Monday, 22 November 2010

Mademoiselle Superman


The nap I mentioned in my last blog lasted 4 and a half hours, you might like to know. However, after that I couldn’t actually be bothered to do my cleaning, so I left it to Saturday morning instead.

Once I’d done that, I decided to head towards Courcouronnes, because I wanted to buy a new jumper for going out that evening. However, someone at Orangis Bois de l’Epine decided it would be a fantastic idea to get onto the tracks, and as a result went underneath it, meaning that all trains were diverted past that section of the line, so in effect I had no way at all of getting to Courcouronnes, unless I went back to villabe and got the bus. Allow it. I went to Paris instead, there’s a New Look in Chatelet so I bought my jumper in there instead. It was also reduced – bonus! So I treated myself to a pretty tasty chicken salad baguette and a bottle of coke, for the very reasonable price of 5€.

It beats a 151€ passport, anyway.

I headed back towards home, and once I reached Corbeil I headed up to the Centre Commercial at Villabe, by bus though, as I couldn’t be bothered to walk up that godforsaken hill. I went into Lidl and picked up my predrink and some stomach lining products for Louise and I, a dirty pizza that I will not be buying again.

In true Beezley fashion, I got myself pretty tanked up and by the time I reached Paris I was already quite far gone. But, ask yourself, when has this ever stopped me?

Correct. It hasn’t. So I carried on, knocking back the beers and whatever else was put my way, talking to strangers like they were my best friends, falling over in the street, you know the drill. I bumped into Kyle which was nice, but lost him as soon as I’d found him pretty much, but to be honest he was probably horrified at how drunk I was and so decided to get his friend very far away from me. Haha.

I have genuinely lost a good couple of hours of Saturday night, some of which Louise has very kindly filled me in on. We decided to go for something to eat, and the next thing I know we were sat in an Italian restaurant at 3am. I ordered spaghetti Bolognese, which is very unlike me – I never order that in a restaurant as I find it a fairly boring thing to choose when you have a menu full of interesting stuff.

So I bet you’re wondering, well why the hell did she have it then?

Honestly? I couldn’t read the menu.

Not because of the language barrier, or because of the font, but because I was so drunk that I couldn’t read the words. In fact, I couldn’t even see them.

We EVENTUALLY got home, after a very long wait and some amusing/bemusing events that aren’t really worth mentioning, apart from being fascinated by a family of rats having breakfast in a bin. Went to bed, and didn’t resurface until about 4pm. At this point, I realised just how badly I had fallen on more than one occasion the previous evening, because of the sheer pain in my legs that is still there now. Drew went home after a while and Louise and I stuffed our faces on lasagne. I walked her to the station afterwards for some much-needed air, then came home and monged out on my sofa for the rest of the evening.

I went to bed at about 1am, but I was woken up repeatedly by bad dreams, involving a crocodile trying to eat me (he got my mp3 player though – and the funny thing is in real life I don’t know where it is now), also finding out I was in the wrong destination on my Year Abroad and having two days to get to somewhere in Africa before they sentenced me to death for going AWOL, oh and Tony Blair giving a sex ed lesson on Southend Pier.

I was so tired, but honestly – I couldn’t wait to get up and out of that ridiculous dream state. It left me feeling rather fragile.

Today at work I had the 6èmes who I like (mainly as I only work with 5 at a time and they are so easy to amuse) and we worked on telling the time. In the staff room at lunchtime, I was given some red wine, and also some duck stuff on bread. It was like a pate sort of thing. It could have been poo. It tasted more like salmon than duck. It was awful. English club, they really are getting hard to handle, this younger group. There are two who just won’t shut up, one who wants to learn and one who is too shy to even look at anyone, and when I ask her a question the keen one always tells her the answer. It’s okay in lessons to help each other out like this from time to time, but the shy things not gonna get any better like this – and it’s equally infuriating when I’m asking her opinion on something and she’s getting the words whispered in her earholes all day long. THINK FOR YOURSELF WOMANNNNNN!

At least they’d done their work though, and next week will be showing me their new designs for the Union Jack (incorporating Wales, you see). They’re starting to grasp the concept of idle chit-chat in English too, as when I gave them the freedom to choose their topic of discussion for the second part of the lesson they even managed an argument (in English) on what they wanted to talk about.

After work I ate some beans and relaxed a little before going to Mennecy to give Louise back the make-up she’d left in my flat, and to also have a slight bitch about the world (again). On the way home I bought a baguette and some cheese for my dinner. These two things are, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing about France.

Now I’m here, writing a blog. I’ve not got much interesting planned for the rest of the week, so I think I’ll have to make my own entertainment, in between writing up my plan for my work report.

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