Tuesday, 29 March 2011

Relationship Invaders, Virgin Vibrators

Thursday I did indeed decide to head into Paris after I finished work, but not before stuffing my face with shite food from Quick. I fancied a bit of wandering around shops, so I decided to hit La Defense to see what was going on in that part of town. It took absolute ages to get there, and I was feeling a bit premenstrual, so my enthusiasm for exploration had sort of expired by the time I’d actually arrived.

I went outside to find the big arch thing that always looked so pretty in films. Mate, it’s just an arch. Bit crap in real life. Another example of how Paris never lives up to the romantic stereotype it likes to give itself in fictional media. (It does, however, quite enjoy living up to the violent stereotypes, but that’s another story for another day)

A bit bored of sightseeing, and starting to feel moody, I decided that retail therapy would sort me out. I found a Virgin Megastore, and was in instant heaven. Here’s a list of the things I stopped myself from buying:

1/ Laptop speakers that look like massive iPhone headphones, I decided that I couldn’t justify spending 70€ on them. However, I keep thinking about them, so I might have to go back and get them.
2/ A portable DVD player. It would make my Eurostar trips go so quicker! But then I do spend half of the trip asleep. But it would be so convenient! I still have a telly that plays DVDs perfectly well. So no. I still want one though, I just might leave it til I get back to the UK.
3/ A new mp3 player. I do sort of “need” one (inverted commas seeing as nobody really NEEDS an np3 player, do they?) since I ever-so-cleverly stepped on mine and broke the screen. It still plays though, so I think I’ll leave that to Amazon when I get home in a couple of weeks.
4/ The 3DS. I can’t even explain how much I want this bit of kit. I miss my DS Lite terribly, and I was thinking about getting the DSi a while back, but my good friend Jon informed me of the imminent arrival of the 3DS, so I decided to wait. However, I never get consoles when they’re new as upgrades normally come out pretty soon after launch. I’ll wait for these. I will have one though.

Another interesting thing I found in there was a range of sex toys. This isn’t going on my list of things I had to stop myself from buying, as it didn’t really enter my head in the shop. I was too busy laughing at the irony of selling vibrators in a shop called Virgin.

After deciding that I would go away and think about these purchases before making them, I walked around a bit, decided that I would bring my lady here when we are in France together in a few weeks time then decided to head home as I was starting to feel ill.

It took two hours. I was unimpressed, majorly.

Friday I was working, teaching year 9 about cocaine in their favourite soft drink then correcting an activity about Aborigines with year ten. I spent my lengthy break planning something that I could work on with year 9, found an article on newsround. I decided to use newsround as it would use a language slightly more informal that might be easier for them to digest, so there I was, searching through for UK news articles, when I found the epitome of British news.

Someone has made a Royal Wedding souvenir… Sickbag.

It went down pretty well, if you’ll pardon the pun. They mostly used it to help their pronunciation (they plan their own activities, you see) and then I went home. I don’t actually remember what I did on Friday afternoon, but I know that I became rather ill on Friday night and even codeine and diclofenac didn’t stop the pain. I pretty much passed out at around half past three in the morning from pain, then woke up in time to get to Lille for the afternoon.

I got my beautiful Haagen-Dazs winning ice cream in order to make my life feel ten times better before getting on my train.

Lille was a bit shit. It rained the whole time I was there and there wasn’t really much to look at. It also took me around 5 hours to get home in total. I did get some new clothes though. And a laugh at multiple falling-over kids. One, for example, who was being a bit flash in the shopping centre doing handstands, and faceplanted the floor.

Sunday, the clocks changed, but I got up in time to go buy things to eat at the supermarket and pop to McDonalds to console myself with more junk food. I then spent my Sunday in my bed, talking to my girl. I can’t wait to get home so that I can have a face-to-face conversation and be able to cuddle up in front of the telly instead of having to cuddle up to my blanket and stare at Skype. She’s a bit amazing, you see, and I miss her roughly 105% of the time that we’re not together.

On Monday, I made the children play more word-games, because I am frankly quite bored of them. Next week is my last Monday ever as an English Assistant, and I can’t wait to see the back of my 6eme who have stopped being cute. English club didn’t even turn up, which meant that I got to sneak off home slightly early. I went home via the kebab shop, as I couldn’t actually wait till I got home to be able to eat something. Out of the 5 or 6 kebab shops on this particular street, I definitely picked the wrong one. There was a dude in there who thought he’d chat me up.

“You’re so beautiful”
“Er, thanks?”
“Can I have your number?”
“No…”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Ahhhh, okay. But, that doesn’t matter, I could join in, I wouldn’t mind!”
“Erm, no?”
“Yeah! It’ll be fine, I’ll join in, it’s fine”

Oh mate, that seals it. How could I possibly resist you? I’ve never heard ANY chat-up line like that, have me now! With your letchy face and your bright red eyes and your incapability of respecting the fact that a woman would like to EAT HER LUNCH THEN GO HOME.

And another thing, what is it with guys who think it’s acceptable to invite themselves into lesbian relationships, or guys who think that a girl is only gay because she hasn’t fucked him yet? You can’t even get a straight girl, how are you gonna get anywhere NEAR two girls in a relationship with each other? Urgh! Rant over.

I spent my afternoon clearing out my room. I’m getting towards having finished it, I’ve just got to arrange everything into boxes and get all the bins ready to be taken out. I’m going home quite the minimalist, you see.

Tuesday, I’m in work, I’ve found out that Knife Boy has been allowed back to school, but it looks like he’ll be going elsewhere for his education quite soon. He’d best be nice to me, or I’ll stab him.

Thursday, 24 March 2011

J'en ai marre, Vincent!

Left you on Monday with a bit of a whiney blog about how they’re bitching about the internet and my flatmates appear to hate me. I can gladly say that they appear to have stopped hating me now, I think they go through phases. Anyway.

Tuesday, I had a glorious half 8 start, which normally I don’t mind as I tend to get Thursday morning off on the week that I start at 8.30. However, one of my lessons had changed from Tuesday afternoon to Thursday morning, so let’s say I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about dragging myself away from my REALLY COMFORTABLE BED.

I managed it eventually, and slowly trundled down the hill to work. I’ve got some funky leg issues right now, which I really need to get seen to, I can walk up hills pretty much sans probleme but walking down them causes agony in my shins and ankles. Strange. But still – I got there eventually.

Spent my first lesson with Year 10 euros practising witness interviews for a murder mystery. Their module is basically a massive game of Cluedo, it’s awesome. Beats the crap I studied at GCSE. Ou est le syndicat d’initiative? DO I CARE WHERE THE SYNDICAT D’INITIATIVE IS? DO I?

As I was saying. I spent an hour working on the witness interviews with the kids, and was reporting back to their teacher about how they worked, and I left the room as another group of kids I work with were lining up outside the classroom.

I say lining up, I mean more in a massive crowd jeering two kids on who were having a massive punch up. This got split up by a couple of the boys but unfortunately, angry children are unbelievably strong and they were failing in a way that would disappoint Charlie Sheen. Myself and the teacher had to get involved to keep the two boys apart as they were screaming all the “connard” and “putain” under the sun. Eventually it all calmed down a bit, and I strolled off up to the staff room to write my blog about the boy (from the same class, incidentally) who had been excluded for carrying a knife.

As my timetable had been altered and a teacher was absent, I only had one more lesson, which was at 1pm. It was Year 9 euro, who have been working on spirituality and legends concerning the creation of the universe according to ancient tribes and such like. Their teacher had first started suggesting that I help them with translating it, but imagination took over and before we knew it we had an entire project planned out where they were to create their own legend about the creation of the universe. They worked in groups, and let their imagination run free. I gave them an example:


But they had better ideas. I’ll list a few.

1/ The world is made out of a massive doughnut, and the ingredients for doughnuts are the recipe for life.
2/ The world is controlled by a massive Chicken God, called Scrambled Eggs, who rose up from underneath the earth, and laid eggs to create the universe, and lays eggs now like Kinder Eggs, with surprises in them.
3/ The world was created when a giant fell off the top of a mountain, and his arse hit the ground so hard that it broke into several pieces which now form our continents.
4/ Our God is a massive multicoloured parrot and we are born from one of the elements, the element we derive from has a strong bearing on our personality.
5/ God is Chuck Norris. One day he wanted to eat some cooked meat, and because he is God, he decided to make a barbecue. But instead, being Chuck Norris, he created the sun.

I was quite impressed with them, I must say. I love that class. I’m definitely going to miss them when I leave.

After work I decided to go into Paris, to wander about a bit and to buy a phone that would permit me to use Skype so that I could talk to my lady as and when I wish rather than having to wait until the computer gods said it was okay. This was very unsuccessful, as I withdrew the money to buy the phone I wanted then was promptly ignored by everyone in the shop when I wanted to enquire about buying it.

So it was home again, with, shall we say, a substantial amount of cash in my wallet. I needed to go to the supermarket, so I popped in there, avoiding the group of criminal-looking kids (I’m sorry but you can’t be too judgmental when you’re strolling round Les Tarterêts), grabbed a few bits and pieces that I could have for my dinner and went over the road to the Lycée where I live, where I found my Brazilian flatmate stood outside. I went over and said hi, and she informed me that she was waiting for the police.

Why on earth was she doing that?

Well, she’d just seen a boy mugging a girl, so she’d phoned them. I was like “C’EST VRAI? PUTAIN!” and as the police arrived, I hurriedly took myself into the grounds of the school where I wasn’t going to risk being mugged for the substantial amount of cash that I’d been worriedly carrying.

Tuesday evening was mainly spent taking bins out, eating bread and cheese (Cathedral City is my favourite cheese ever) and talking to my lady.

Wednesday was a bit of a non-day really. I was ill in the morning, so I stayed in bed in between falling through the corridor to get to the toilet. When I could finally sit up without feeling like I was going to die, I played around with emails, and pretended to be productive.

I popped to the supermarket to get some dinner (I’ve found the nicest microwave meal in the world ever) and as I got home and started putting it all away, my German housemate came into the kitchen and asked me if we could put the bins out together. What sort of social activity is this? She explained something about the bin being “not good” so I assumed that the dustbin was knackered. No, there was just a leak in the bin bag. Why it wouldn’t have sufficed to tip the bin bag into another one, I’m not too sure. And why it took two people to carry our relatively small dustbin out, I’m not too sure either.

Anyway. We got back and it was time to actually clean the bin as it was covered in some stinky liquid and apparently there’d been ants in it yesterday. She tied a cloth around her broom to try to clean it out, this failed, and she got a bit upset that her broom was covered in bin bacteria. Hello? Like tying a cloth around it is going to make a blind bit of difference? She gave up in the end, and scrubbed around the bin a bit before tipping the hot water and cleaning fluid out. I then rinsed the bin out, and to be honest it didn’t look any cleaner, so I took the cloth and cleaned it properly. She was pretty happy after this, so I cleaned the sink out and washed my hands before sitting down to enjoy my dinner.

Now it is Thursday, and I’m in work after a rubbish night’s sleep and having to get up earlier to get into work for 10.30. I took half of a year 7 class for the hour, practising their oral exam, and also trying to stop them all from climbing up on the platform type thing that had been moved from one classroom and piled up in the room I was using. I swear these kids are just, monkeys or something. There was also a group of kids arguing over who was doing what role, and one new girl who was refusing to work at all. Other than that, it was a pretty successful lesson with kids all working hard to get good grades in their test, asking for some pretty interesting vocabulary. One boy asked me a question, and I didn’t know what it was in French, so he drew it for me. A whip. He was punishing his son with lashes for having not cleaned his room. Ouch!

At the end of the class, I was trying to give their teacher feedback, and explaining why I’d given the class bastard a bad report for his work rate. I turned round and there he was, one of the kids from the next class (who had been standing in the doorway with a bit of a Damien kind of expression on his face) trying to break his headphones.

Funnily enough, it was one of the kids who had been fighting on Tuesday. Except this time, he wasn’t crying with rage, he was laughing as the boy whose headphones had just been broken was becoming increasingly angry. It turned into a fight that I swiftly broke up, and only at this point did any other kids try to get involved with stopping it so they could try and gain some brownie points for benevolence or something. I calmed the boy down before sending him off to his next class whilst the teacher shouted at the class, who were still trying to aggravate this kid.

He was very polite about thanking me before he went off to his next lesson to explain why he was late. He’s not a bad kid; he’s just a bastard in lessons and definitely needs some kind of anger management. The other kids definitely don’t help him, but he is a bit of a shit to be fair.

I made sure that the teacher was aware that he hadn’t started it at all, and then I came to the staff room, which is pretty much where I am now, writing my blog, waiting for my next couple of classes in about an hour, and thinking about heading to Paris to benefit from this sunshine for a while.

Tuesday, 22 March 2011

Caen, and knife-wielding eleven year olds

Caen!

I woke up at 8am last Wednesday, and was really struggling to get my eyes open. I toyed with the idea of staying in bed again, but eventually dragged myself away from my really comfy blanket that was given to me by the school (which I am definitely keeping, by the way)

Got myself to St Lazare where I was very confused, the layout of this station is awful. I found a ticket booth outside, and got myself a first-class one-way ticket to Caen, departing in half an hour.

Eventually found my platform after standing there scratching my head like a monkey with nits for a while (out of confusion, not a nits-ridden head), sat myself down in one of the places isolées (isolated seats, you can has window and aisle at the same time and don’t even have to sit next to someone! Win!) and commenced chilling for the next two hours.

When I arrived, it was foggy as though a cloud had formed three feet from the ground. Balls, I thought. These pictures are going to suck.

I wandered about a bit, trying to find the town centre, and sat down by the river to email my lady for a while before going in search of lunch, waiting for this fog to clear slightly.

I hate lunchtime in France. I’m not a particularly patient person and if I want food, unless I’m cooking it myself, I want it now. Only, at lunchtime, it’s nigh on impossible to get anywhere to buy anything resembling nutrition. I couldn’t even get into the door of McDonalds.

Allow this. I’m not getting into this part of French culture. I’ll wait until all you dicks have gone home or back to work or something, then I’ll stuff my face. The fog was already starting to clear so I got a few semi-decent images (well as semi-decent as you can with a camera with no screen) before I luckily found a “sandwicherie” with not a lot of people waiting and bought myself a chicken curry and mozzarella Panini and an Orangina. It was fit. I still maintain that I hate French lunchtime though.

As I strolled about some more, I found a branch of “Le Comptoir Irlandais” – the shop in Paris that I’d been into on Monday and got a massive Irish flag from. I strolled in to see if there was anything that this place might have.

I found what I’d been looking for.

An Ireland Rugby shirt.

GET IN! I was so excited that I didn’t even look at the price tag and had to act unsurprised when the woman told me I was about to pay 55€ for this thing. It’s not even an official shirt. Worth it though.

So I had clothes to wear for Paddys Day.

As I strolled around, getting some amazing pictures of this rather pretty town, I noticed that the people were a little bit dickish. I lost count of the amount of people who shouted something at me for one reason or another. I thought it was just the Parisians who are arseholes.

I sat by a harbour of sorts to relax for a while as my feet were beginning to cause me a remarkable degree of discomfort, I looked at the boats and I played with my phone some more. Then it got cold, so I went to the café across the road to get myself a coffee to warm myself up a bit.

It was pure dirt.

Warmed me up though, and I spent the rest of my time in Caen bounding along the pavement like a 90’s kid with ADHD and a blue Smarties overdose.

Thursday was also rather non-eventful, I went to work a bit later than usual as my first lesson was cancelled and spent all day telling Year 10 about how awesome it is to drink on St Patricks Day. Then moaning at more annoying year 7 kids.
One of my year 7 boys has been excluded for bringing a knife to school. Legend.
Thursday I was emailing my mother in between getting drunk as it was St Patricks Day and her birthday.

On Friday I went to work, delivered two pretty good lessons on Comic Relief (thanks G) then sat chilling in the staff room for two and a half hours before going to my English club.

Before this, there was something going on in the staff room involving cheese, peanuts, tomatoes and champagne. I stole some of this and nattered to a few teachers (who told me my French was awesome – quite nice of them seeing as I’ve recently been feeling quite demotivated as my French doesn’t appear to be improving anymore) before wishing everybody a pleasant afternoon and heading to my class.
The kids had all gone home.

I really should learn to read the crap that gets put in my newly-discovered pigeonhole.

Oh well, never mind, I never had anything to do anyway.

So I left, and headed into Paris, where I ate the nicest lasagne in the world EVER, then proceeded to get onto the Eurostar to go home for the weekend, to see my beautiful girlfriend and to surprise my mother by showing up at her birthday meal.

The man next to me on the train was very pissed off to have to give up the plug socket to the person who had booked the seat with the plug socket. Should have reserved a window seat then, dick. I might have shared the plug socket with you, but after huffing and puffing over putting your cables away, you didn’t stand a chance. I plugged in my phone, cuddled it and went to sleep for an hour, snoring loudly. Haha. Poor miseryguts. No computer, no peace and quiet. Learn to be a nicer person, arse.

Saturday night I went to the restaurant to wait for my mother after going to see Daddikins at his house. He gave me a lift (mostly to be nice to me because he’s an awesome dad, but I suspect partly because he wanted to show off his sexy new car) and I booked the table, bought Amy and myself a drink and waited for mum. Mums workfriends hid me as Mum strolled into the restaurant. She said her hellos as Amy turned to me and said “I’m waiting for her to actually notice you”. I replied, “yeah, me too.” Then she saw me as Kerry and her partner stepped aside. She cried. Apparently she was happy? I hope so.

In all, awesome weekend. I saw my girl, saw my mum, fed my craving for various items of food, and got to drink Dr Pepper.

Then it was Sunday and therefore time to go back to gay France. We said our goodbyes in the station (for the last time – next time I leave for France she’s coming with me) then I got on my train, back to Gayland. Nothing untoward, I got back to Corbeil, fed myself and chatted on Skype for a bit before heading to bed.

Monday was nothing untoward, until I got home to be told that I hadn’t done my share of the housework last week (erm, yes I had) and also to be told by Colin (in English, actually!) that somebody is using Skype too much and the technician is getting pissed off. He cut the internet off this morning and “has warned that he will do it again”. Awesome. The only thing that makes living here bearable is being cut. Still, three more weeks, I suppose…

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

I still want an English Rugby shirt for work.

Well I didn’t make it to Lille as I was MALADE. So I spent my weekend in bed complaining to myself and my girlfriend about how terrible my life is. Sorry, not much else to report on this story.

Monday was relatively uneventful, except for getting scolded by the headteacher for using the staff room whiteboard for non-administrative purposes when I asked for teachers to participate in a survey (like she thinks I can’t read French – never seen an administrative thing on there in my LIFE). I think she just wanted to scrub my writing off so she could write some bullshit about a cake sale. Maybe she’s having it off with the mayor and doesn’t want us to have an opinion on how his election win was a complete farce.

Tuesday I got to go into school late and finish early, as my colleague had to look after her baby who wasn’t feeling too good. One kid in a 3eme class (who is a DICK) refused to touch the oyster card I passed round the class during a lesson on London Transport without his glove. After the lesson his teacher was explaining to me the extent to which this boy is a DICK, when another kid burst into the class and the pair started fighting. Definite DICK.

Tuesday night I had a tantrum with my rubbish internet and took myself to Evry to buy some new bedding and such like. I found a shower mat that was decorated with the word “DOUCHE” written across it in large letters. To any French person, this is completely acceptable, as douche means shower. I, on the other hand, had to stand in the corner of the supermarket to minimise the amount of people who could see me laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I bought it.

Wednesday I still wasn’t feeling great so I stayed in bed once more. I planned to get on with my Cultural Report, but it didn’t really happen.

Thursday I strolled into work, the first class pretty much didn’t fancy doing any work, and the second class got to listen to stories about squirrels. Then it was time for an all-nighter to get the Cultural Report done.

And what an all-nighter it was too. It took AGES.

At around 5am, I allowed myself to drift off to sleep, having sorted out my references and only having a small amount left to write. I planned to get up to my alarm at half seven, and caffeinate myself through Friday.

I woke up at 9am. My first class started at 8.30.

I pretty much ran to work, luckily grabbing a train for the one stop that saved me about 15 minutes walking.

When I rocked up at the classroom door at 9.45 I was expecting the bollocking of my life. I’d missed one class and was late for the second. But nothing! I just helped them correct some work and was asked to have a lesson prepared on Red Nose Day for next week. Fair enough! The teacher was really nice about me being so late. I still told her about how ill I’d felt the night before though, just for good measure.

I spent my 2 and a half hour break in the staff room, putting the final touches on my Cultural Report (which is rubbish, by the way).

The headteacher wandered into my English club today (at a particularly productive moment – I had one girl practising grammar on the board – I must have looked right professional) and asked me if I was going to “portes-ouvertes”. I’m not too sure what this is, although it sounds like an Open Day sort of thing. I didn’t know a thing about it, so she informed me that she had placed an invitation in my pigeonhole.

This is the first time in the history of my employment at this school that I have known about having a pigeonhole.
Never mind, said Mrs Headteacher, if I was otherwise engaged, that was cool.

Which I was – with Kronenbourg and facebook and otherwise doing NOTHING to celebrate having submitted the most (oh my gosh I’m doing that dickish thing where I’ve got an adjective in French but can’t find the English one that works here…) the most, painful 3000 words of my life. (Painful isn’t the word I’m even looking for, oh gosh, I hate bilingualism)

This weekend, I stayed in bed, too tired from enduring the all-nighter to get out anywhere to explore anything.

Monday was fairly uneventful, apart from noticing that my year seven children have stopped being so small and cute and are starting to grow into the horrendous Year 8 kids that every language assistant hates. I still detest my Year 8 English club, but they seem content with having presentations to prepare. I’m getting bored of the special needs boy who brings me something printed out from Wikipedia every week though.

Monday afternoon I went into Paris to buy some Irish merchandise for Thursday. I got a BIG flag. I love it. Then I met up with Leanne and after a bit of searching for some hotels, we went for a drink, which was nice.

Tuesday I’ve had a day off work as for various reasons all my classes have been cancelled. I’ve tidied my room and gone on something of an eating Spree. Caen tomorrow.

Sunday, 6 March 2011

The Beginning of the End (Written 4/3/11)


Hiyar,

Sorry for leaving it so long to get back on dis writing ting. I got back to France on Sunday after a holiday in London that I can only describe as eventful. I had no food in the fridge and by the time I arrived in Paris all the shops were shut, so I ended up buying both my lunch and by dinner from a shitty baguette stand in the Gare du Nord. That was my entire Sunday, in French terms. I missed my girlfriend from the second we parted at St Pancras too, so I felt a bit miserable to be honest.

However, the first advert I did see upon arriving in Paris was one for Paul. This made me incredibly happy as it now means that I can go and watch it again. And I’ve told all my students that they have to go see it too.

Monday was another class with the new year 8’s that I’ve taken on, who seemed happy to talk about their holidays practising the past tense that they’ve so conveniently learned recently. Year Seven, however, decided to play hangman. Their teacher has stopped giving me subjects to work on with them, and the kids have stopped listening to the subjects I give them. So now it looks like the kids are inventing their own lessons until the end of term, right?

English club was fun. I only remembered on Sunday night that the lesson was already planned for them as I had set them presentations to do. However, I’d make them talk about Valentine’s Day (mine was amazing btw) if they hadn’t done their presentations, then swiftly kick them out of English Club. Amazingly, they’d all done it!

One of the new girls had prepared a presentation on her holiday in the Dominican Republic, and presented me with a gift. She did her presentation, she had some white sand in a bottle (that I VERY inappropriately told the kids was cocaine – it raised a laugh anyway so I don’t care, quoi) and showed everyone a fruit of some variety that apparently has cocoa beans in it. I asked what this thing was that she’d given me, and she responded with; “it is errrr haricot……..it is……… bah c’est une decoration madame!” 

It is a decorative bean.

Cheers kid.

I later found out that it is a dried out seed pod, but I’m still going to decorate it and put it on the mantelpiece when I move into my own little place. Maybe with glitter. 

Tuesday I had my 3A, who were little pricks, all lesson. There’s not much else to say about them.

Or the 6eme I had in the afternoon, who completely failed at describing their houses to me. One kid told me in his house there is kitchen and stair. Wow, boy, you live in poverty! Mind you, this is Corbeil. And they all seem to have a meekroewavv in their kitchen too. If I hear that word one more time…

Wednesday = no work = nothing.

Thursday, I got into work at half past 9 for another lesson with 6eme, who were slightly better. They didn’t talk about meekroewavvs, anyway.

I went to another class with a group that I don’t usually work with as I had been speaking to their teacher in the staff room (maybe it would be more accurate if I said I was being peer-pressured into getting a job as a teacher). These kids were bastards. They didn’t even ask me questions in English in the end, which kind of defeated the object.

Then I had my 6eme class in the afternoon who are a little bit MECHANT. Well, a few of them. Some of them are actually quite nice, and clever. One kid, though, is an absolute BASTARD. Too rude for his own good. Definitely needs a slap. Or drowning. Or a slap then drowning. On top of the usual year 7 “look at me I’m funny asking where my condom is rather than where my schoolbag is LOL” behaviour, he also swore at me, slapped his classmates, and generally made everyone’s lives Hell. Die, child, die.

Thursday evening I ate a massive pizza and I chatted on a very temperamental Skype connection to my lady. 

Friday I’m at work, I’ve written a letter that I intend to send to some politicsey people to help with my cultural report (due next Friday) and I’m planning a trip to Lille tomorrow.

Sorry this post’s been a bit boring.