I haven't done a blog post in a long time, not since a loose adaptation of 'You are old, Father William' caused one enthusiastic Facebook goer to ask me whether I was in fact losing my mind. Thanks for that.
Truth is, I've been pretty busy/pretty ill. After an over-zealous drinking session at New year I kicked up an old digestive system problem that I'm STILL not 100% over so I left it an extra few days to go back to Paris. Finances only allowed me to book onto the overnight coach, an experience which although not scarring as it could have been was certainly interesting as several of my fellow passengers decided I was to be privy to the innermost workings of their minds by talking to themselves the WHOLE FUCKING WAY. What I can now tell you is the full details of a office supplies company run by a man of Indian origin, the fact that he was trying to set up new business links in London and then there was the small issue of Pascal, who hadn't yet paid for his stationary and this 'wasn't good enough'. Also tested out my Spanish as the Portuguese driver spoke neither English nor French, only his native tongue and broken Spanish. Makes sense on a service from London-Paris... Cheers Eurolines.
I threw myself straight into work when I got back as I had a ridiculous amount to do, but after 11 days of pretty solid 15 hour days I was done and dusted! No exams, so had a quick fete at the residence and headed for Lille then home! My casual lethargy meant there was no big drinking and no staying out till the small hours, but its been good times all the same.
I think in my week at home I ventured out of the house somewhere in the region of 4 or 5 times, deciding instead to concentrate on the YARP project; where I basically have to explain in 6000 words what a shithole(spell correct wanted to correct this to shibboleth- what on earth is that!!)the place I live in is and what is being done to improve it(surprisingly little). The social highlight of the week was probably being sung at by a waiter at a curry house while out for curry with the delightful Miss Evans or talking to my old year 2 teacher in Waitrose.
Just spent a week in Southampton seeing some of the importants! Bare games of Fifa and flat 3 banter, some classic Fran quotes, a night of skanking junk styley, gettin rowdy in the mitre, watching shit tv with geo b and getting my spend on in Primark. I think France has obviously affected my ability to dress properly in the eyes of English checkout clerks as the lady at the till asked me completely seriously upon seeing my purchases; "oh, so what are you dressing up as?". This was followed by a slightly blank look and the reply of "nothing.. just myself..". I think I've just become too Parisien.... I did have several comments of 'You look French' dispersed throughout the week. I genuinely have no idea how to take that.
With valentines day coming up I also tried to up the anti in terms of looking for love. I learnt the song from the match.com advert on the ukulele and decided to head down St.Denys station and play it at pretty ladies. Unfortunately, it got really fucking cold. Maybe next time.
With the weather came the disappointing fact that driving to a gig I have looked forward to for AGES became unfeasible, and we were therefore unable to go. The band's last gig too, so massive miss. Living in France has made me appreciate English music that much more, its ridiculously good, especially our indie scene and grime scene. Then there is my own special soft spot; a good dub electro/dubstep tune, its just not the same abroad. There is a reason that they say British music is the best in ther world! LUCKILY, I have a gig in London before I head back to Paris next week, get some headphones and some bass on this tune. Gona go watch them smash the garage in Islington!
From music to accents! I have already written about how the British accent is far more loved than I thought it was, but I thought I would share with you all a line from a Turkish Erasmus exchange girl who said; "Your accent sounds like music". Apart from my Irish mate jabbing me and basically saying... 'get in there'(boys will be boys) this was a shock to me as everytime I go home I am told I don't speak properly by my family. They hate the very slight London twang I have picked up since going to university in, well, Southampton. Such a bizarre world we live in.
A bientot x
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