Back in Le Mans and back to school. And the world makes sense again. Enfin. . . it sort of does. I worked 5 long, hard hours in my first week back, mainly due to my teacher being ill, but also due to an oversleeping incident. THIS week, I've hit up 9 hours and it's only Tuesday! It's practically full time! I'm sat in Mamers at the moment in the glorious sunshine waiting for the bus home. I detest the bus. Whenever I take it thousands of tiny children from neighbouring schools descend on me asking me all the English they know, slash simply stare at me like I'm a FRICKING ZOO ANIMAL. I know I should be kinder and oblige, perform and encourage; especially when they tell me how beautiful I am. . . repeatedly. . .but, they're RUINING THE SUNSHINE and I'm trying to listen to Jack Johnson. Inevitably I have given in and obliged because I am WEAK. God, I hate children. I'll have to hide better next time, under a coat or something.
I have
had an interesting taste of France this month. Have had an interesting insight
into the somewhat humorous way Frenchies view fidelity, and continuing my
recent trend, have been learning a lot more about myself and the people around
me. Like a giant year abroad cliché, I'm slowly uncovering the
kind of person I want to be, and hopefully am becoming that person bit by bit,
shitty situation after shitty situation.
Daniel 'Hurricane' Welsh turned 21 last week and he
celebrated in the understated and conserved manner that is so characteristic of
him. He threw a fantastic 80s party, spent £100
on alcohol and streamers, made sneaky cocktails and an epic 80s playlist, wore
leopard print leggings and danced the night away in various places around Le
Mans. Subtle as ever. I dressed up in very little clothing (channelling
Madonna) which included a red bra and a tiny see-through Lacey top, and in all
honesty spent a fair amount of the evening in a walk in cupboard. I was not
alone in the cupboard. That is all that will be said on this topic.
I have had some very pleasant experiences over the last few
weeks including being treated to a delightful evening with Austrian Berni where
he created a sort of crazy outdoor cinema and we snuggled in the cold on a
couch with rum enhanced tea, while watching the genius of Robert Redford and
Paul Newman in 70s gangster film 'The Sting'. What an evening!
I also recently spent the weekend in the city of amour with
my Auntie and Uncle. I was sufficiently wined and dined and despite the heavy
rain (and my epically poor choice of shoe and general attire for said weather)
had a rather lovely time. We strolled around the Musée Rodin with our baguettes and fresh fraises, meandered up
the Champs Élysées and took in the general delights of the Tour Eiffel and
various Parisien cafes. We almost didn't make it to the Arc de Triomphe as
Auntie Karen caught sight of Marks and Spencers and just had to have a gander. We
also almost didn't find our way up to Montmartre after walking in the wrong
direction for about 15 minutes DESPITE HAVING A MAP before Uncle Paul turned
around to sneeze and saw the Sacre Coeur towering over the city behind us. We
attempted to be cultured by appreciating some of the finer pieces on display in
the Musée du Louvre for a few hours
but very quickly my Auntie made it obvious that she would much rather subtly
lose my Uncle Paul somewhere around the Italian Renaissance so that we could
drink wine and chat up some dishy French waiters.
Merely 2 days after this weekend of fun, fabulous Best
Friend Alice turned up for a cheeky visit. We obviously immediately ate Mcdo
and drank wine - I wanted to give her the real French experience! We spent
about 4 days eating a variety of cheeses, drinking all the wine we could find
and watching unhealthy amounts of Cougar Town and good old reliable,
vampire-based favourite - True Blood. Luckily the weather was fantastic for her
stay so we had a picnic in the sunshine and spent the days we had together
holding hands and reminiscing. We even had a romantic lunch date in a
delightful and traditional French restaurant in the old town before spending an
entire afternoon eating chocolat-framboises, swilling down several kirs and
judging everyone that walked by. Heaven.
On a more depressing note, I have recently been forced to
take note of the manner in which I put people on pedestals, only to be cruelly
disappointed when they don't match up to my expectations. It has taken a lot of
time spent reflecting to realise that this is my fault. When some event causes
these people (invariably of the male variety for myself) to fall from grace and
suddenly materialise on ground level as just another person, it is odd and
actually quite painful to see them much smaller than you thought. We all allow
our imaginations to run wild (I often spend train journeys falling in love
repeatedly with every half attractive man that climbs aboard and planning our
lives together in great detail until they alight) and presume that our emotions
and relationships are profound and without replica in the world, when actually,
you're both far more average than you originally thought.
The silver lining is that sometimes this doom and gloom may
lead to something magnificent - it may allow colour back into your world where
you didn't even realise it had dimmed. Les malheurs may continue to occur, like
big pointy scary obstacles thrown in your path, but don't stop. It's so bizarre
that I never realised before how if you just keep smiling, even when there
appears to be no reason to do so, life strolls by so much easier. If I just
keep leaping over these never ending obstacles with a massive cheeky grin and a
pint of wine in my hand, everything will be fine. God life is good when the sun
is shining.
I’ll fill you in ASAP on the
next leg of my life journey.
Much love
and whatnot, H x
