You know what?
These grèves are really getting on my tits.
I went to go shopping yesterday, got on the wrong train. Whoops, silly me. I’ll just hop on a train back to where I started and try again.
There was no train back for an hour. Over an hour, to go one stop.
It was at this point that I really began to feel homesick. Lonely, on an outdoor train platform with only a hoody to shield me from the intermittent rain, it really sank in how crap this area of France is. Give me London back. At least they have buses in place of lazy bastard train drivers.
Anyway. I got to Courcouronnes after almost two hours commuting (I so should have asked Cika to drive me there) with a vague plan in my head. “Work clothes, washing powder, shampoo, bath towels, wine, internet key”. What I really came back with, was shampoo, wine, and a hoody. The homesickness had taken its toll on me – and I was wandering around Evry2 (a really crap version of lakeside) wanting to cry.
Nobody wanted to go out last night, and to be honest by the time I got home, I didn’t really want to either. So I sat in my living room with my mobile phone, logging onto Facebook every five minutes hoping for a notification from someone from home.
On the plus side, I managed to fix my internet key with some masking tape so I got to chat to a few people last night. Wine and MSN worked out as quite a nice Saturday evening for me.
Today, I have barely got out of my bed. It has been brilliant. Sat on the internet all day, did some interior design, and made plans for the rest of my room for when I get 10 days off (starting Friday). Bliss.
Tomorrow I’ve got to be imaginative with getting kids to speak to me about how clever they are at English. Then I have English club. Hopefully there will be some more this time. If not, I really wonder what the point of me being here actually is.