So... sort of left it two weeks before writing another blog.
I managed to get online yesterday with the free day of internet that SFR offered me as I had identified my line (two weeks previously). I managed to upload my blogs then check on uni work (wow, there’s a lot) but then it decided to go tits up again, so I am once again writing in Word and will upload once I get online.
Last time I wrote a blog was the day before Dad and Amber arrived to visit me. Well, I suppose it was actually the day they arrived, seeing as I didn’t finish writing until 2am. As expected, I struggled to get up at 7am and jumped out of bed and into my clothes, Wallace & Gromit style. Had to wait ages for my train, and they actually beat me to the station. Amber found me and immediately began moaning about having to pay to go for a wee, but she was so desperate that eventually she paid. Haha.
Friday, we did the Notre Dame and a nearby Irish pub. Amber and Dad experienced how gay French train ticket systems are, and Dad experienced the wallet rape that you sign up for by staying in a pub past Happy Hour. Two pints, 2 burger and chips, and a plate of nachos, 50€. Ouch.
Nice nachos though.
We went home and opened the keg I had bought, well I say opened it, I actually mean that we broke it. Still drank it though. I suffered the next morning, however.
Saturday we did the Eiffel Tower. We queued up for over an hour just to get into the actual ticket queue, where we were promptly queue jumped by a group of young pilled up Germans. They got to the top and were bouncing off the walls. Good job they have a wire fence all around up there, as I suspect these crazy ravers might have decided to see if they could fly up there.
The tower was amazing. But I maintain that it would be far cooler with a helter skelter to use in order to get down.
Sunday they went home, and I was sad. Very very sad. My internet key had been identified but I still couldn’t top up for some reason. I had no credit on my phone. Once Dad and Amber had gone home, I had nothing to do, no way of contacting home. So I got myself quite upset at Villabe, and I think I upset my dad in the process.
What an idiot.
The next week was fairly boring, with me spending three days in my flat without the motivation to do anything at all. I went back to work towards the end of the week where I did next to nothing (although I did feed Marmite to my students – brilliant stuff). The weekend – Dad came back! With Sean, who had just returned from his gap yah in Canada, selling knives to the general public.
They brought me a lot of cool stuff, including my bike, a TV and DVD player, some more food items, a microwave, a kettle, and lots of other useful items. We popped to Carrefour to pick up a few bits for lunch and went home to eat them, before having a few drinks and then going out to Paris to get drunk. We went into the same Irish bar we had been in the week previously, and achieved our aim. We got back to Corbeil at roughly midnight, where the trains had stopped running to Villabe, the last bus there drove past us just as the bus attendant informed us that we needed to get on it, and there were no more taxis until the morning.
So we had to walk.
Via the kebab shop, of course.
We stuck a DVD on, Sean fell asleep on the floor, and I went to the bathroom to get myself ready for bed when I heard him waking up and moving towards the small bedroom. “Ahh, he decided to go to bed”.
He must have ninja’d back up the flat, as when I left my bathroom there he was, in my bed, soundo.
Oh, I’ll have the guest bed then?
Sunday morning they went home, leaving me to play with my new toys.
Monday was time for work again, where I accidentally taught my year 7s to swear by informing them that sticking two fingers up is rude in England, then a conversation on bonfire night in English club with the year 8’s quickly turned into a conversation on Christmas, then somehow turned into a discussion on execution methods. I was given wine in the staff room that was a lot stronger than I expected, and I spent Monday afternoon finishing Crocodile Tears by Antony Horowitz on my Amazon Kindle what my daddy bought me for Christmas and gave to me early, because he is so lovely.
I’m probably too old to still be reading the Alex Rider series, but it still captivates me like it did when I was fourteen, and so I shall continue.
Tuesday, seeing as it is week B in the second school I work in, I was lucky enough to have a lesson with 3A again, you know, the cheeky shits who are anything but interested in anything I have to say. I was trying to teach them about Ellis Island (you know, because as an English Language Assistant I am a fountain of knowledge on American culture and history) when one of the students asked me the cheeky bastard question I had been waiting for.
“Ça veut dire quoi, fuck?”
Another student informed him before I swiftly moved on.
The hour after the class was spent chatting to their teacher about anything and everything. During the conversation, she asked me,
“what’s the worse swear word in the English Language?”
I informed her that it probably begins with C (obviously I told her what it was but I’d like to keep that kind of language off of my blog, in all honesty) and we then got into a lengthy discussion about is it the word for a womans...
... is it used as an insult, how offensive is it, will I get a smack if I say it to someone without a good reason (probably), how do you spell it, and then she sat there repeating it to herself for a little while.
I giggled to myself. A lot.
I had one Year 7 group who I was asked to take alone, and my improvisation skills were clearly not up to scratch for this. The other Year 7 class I worked with were all in need of a lesson in how to brush your teeth, as I was working with them one-on-one and I was almost gagging with nearly every one of them.
Tuesday had been a bad day for me. I got halfway to work before realising that there was a stain on my jumper. Work was unsuccessful. My bag broke. I waited for a bus in the rain getting repeatedly splashed by merciless cars and lorries who were making no effort to avoid the massive puddle that spanned the entire length of the bus stop. I got home, deciding that I was finally safe from my bad day, and got into a nice hot bath to relax. On my way out, I broke the small bathroom mirror that had been resting against the wall.
Good job I’m not superstitious.
I banned myself from cooking that night, as a precautionary measure, instead having pistachios and beer whilst I watched my IT crowd box set. Well, Sean’s IT Crowd box set.
Wednesday, I met my new class of Year 8 children, who I have already decided are not going to be my friends whilst I am here. Annoying creatures. They were chatting to their mates, so I moved them. They continued their conversation, just shouting across the classroom instead. Time to get my thinking cap on to keep these ones quiet, I think.
Wednesday night I met up with a friend to find a bar to get drunk in, but by the time she got to Corbeil every bar was shut, so we just went to my house via the off licence. She decided not to drink, but a nice time was had nonetheless.
Today, it is Armistice Day, which is a public holiday in France. I have spent this day asleep.
Tomorrow, I am going to work, then I have a few errands to run. I have plans this weekend, but they are top secret.
I’m afraid this blog has been a bit boring, but I didn’t want to go into massive detail about everything I did over the last two weeks otherwise that would have been really long, and I’d have still bored you anyway. However, I promise that I will get back into maintaining my blog from this point, hopefully in a manner that makes a few of you giggle.