Mieux vaut faire, et se repentir, que se repentir, et rien faire.

Sitting watching “Les soeurs Kardashian”, so thought it was enough time for my brain to sleep if I also wrote my blog.

Last weekend was spent Lille-ing it up. Sat in with a bunch of Frenchies and the yanks, having a drink, or a few. Coralie was spectacularly sick in the hall, so she didn’t make it out and Myra wasn’t feeling smashing so it ended up just being me, Ava, Jess and a bunch of french boys, some of whom were total douches. Jess was totally fucked and ended up making friends with some different French boys we met in the street (French boys will always try and make friends with you in the street. Do not make friends with them.) and by the time we got to the club (me and Ava being so annoyed by obnoxiousness of most people there we turned to each other and said “aide-moi”, since we never talk to each other in French we were too shocked to even jinx each other.) Arrived at Network and was told by one of the French boys that I lived in a “low brain” area, and was surprised I found that offensive and called him on it. At this point Jess stomped past us shouting that she “didn’t wait in line”, with the French boys. This was the last we heard from her, until the next morning when she called, from the hospital. Quite the night for her, I feel.

Ava & I had a little dance then decided to head home. Thankfully, one of the boys who was actually decent gave us a lift home. For some reason when we got out the car, another boy did too, being France I assumed it was to faire la bise (the cheek kissing those French kids are famous for), so was surprised when this didnt occur and when he continued to walk with me and Ava to the appartment. Since Ava didn’t react to this, I then assumed he was crashing, but I later discovered, he had just decided himself he was staying there.

The next day his imposing-himself continued when he accompanied us to lunch and was branded with the name “gluestick”. Found an outstanding kebab place, not like kebabs back home, they were amazing and the guys that work there are such cuties. Coralie was still dead to the world, so had fashioned a bed for herself on the bench and had a pashmina wrapped round her, sensing her discomfort he brought us extra water and the remote for the TV. You can’t say fairer than that.

School this week was a mixed bag, started my new timetable for the 3rd trimester so there were a few teething problems. On Tuesday, I had my first class which was fine, then for my second I was with a teacher who changes classrooms, so after failing to find her class (and walking into a few wrong ones, bumbling out, saying “excusez-moi”), I asked my mentor teacher who said she didn’t know, so I went to the office to ask what room she was in, and I was told she was running late but her class were there. I’m not going to lie, I basically concluded from this that there was no point me taking the class so went and sat in my room. Planned to play on the ”I’m foreign, I was confused” card after that, and at break I met the teacher who asked me “do we have any classes together today, I’ve forgotten to bring your timetable?”. Took this as a sign not to tell her, and also since I didn’t have my timetable on her I was unable to tell her when we were together, so when we did have a class together, I again tried (and failed) to find her. I asked my mentor teacher, who, as lovely as she is, basically just said “I don’t know, I’m finished. See you tomorrow!”, so went and sat back in my room. My doggin’-it antics finally caught up on me, so I agreed to stay on later for another hour, since she had the same class twice that day. Turning up for my second last class, the teacher told me it was the next hour I was with her, and when we looked at my timetable we realised it had been printed wrongly, so she too asked if I could stay to do the last hour, but since I now had a class with the other teacher I couldn’t. Was all a bit of a mess, but the last hour of the day was brilliant, the kids were such a cute, enthusiastic and lovely class of sixieme (first year) kids, who if I could teach every day I would love my job.

On Wednesday I had a couple of classes then went to Hannah’s for some luncheon. She stays in a wee village, that I don’t know why, but I had it in my head it was basically 2 houses and the obligatory French pharmacy, it turns out it was much bigger, but still full of mentals. Shopped for our lunch in the supermarket, and made the rookie mistake of trying to go to the bakery for some treats before remembering that like Sundays, France shuts down on Wednesday afternoons. I don’t know how they cope. Managed to get what we needed at another supermarket, where whilst waiting in the clue a mental turned round and just stared right at us, I find in these situations it’s best not to look, as they will then try and talk to you. It’s like not moving so a T-Rex doesn’t eat you. Anyway, he asked us if we were English (I constantly then need to explain that English and Scottish are not the same), and why we spoke to each other if we were in France. I’m not sure why people are constantly outraged by this. A group of people with a common first language will always talk to each other in that language, regardless of what country they’re in. Was made a delightful lunch by Hannah who would have definitely been giving into trouble on Masterchef for her timing, and spent the next few hours giggling and eating Haribo, perfect afternoon.

Since my classes are all new, I spent this week just getting them to introduce themselves and then getting them to ask me questions. It must be the same for every single assistant, every time you do this, at some point, a group of people will giggle and ask for your telephone number or if you have a boyfriend. I’m not sure why they think these questions are so risque. They’ve also got it into their head that to “kick it” with someone means to fuck them. Being fairly fluent in English, the only time I’d ever hear this is to say you were hanging out with someone, but from some source, French folk have got it in their head it means this, so after class one day 2 of the teachers came to ask if it was true a wee boy had said he wanted to “kick it” with me, since some of the other pupils had told on him, and to ask if I thought he should get detention. It was very funny to have such a serious don’t-laugh,-now conversation over this. Also had some apparent stereotypes in my classes this week, when they introduce themselves I get them to tell me a like and a dislike and I had a girl wearing aout 5kg of eyeliner telling me “I like rock music and I dislike my father”, whilst a 13-year old playa in the making, told me “I like football and the girls”.

I’m aware I’m not up to date, but the weekend’s antics shall be blogged in due course, I fear I will mould into this chair if I sit on my laptop any longer.

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