A French Thanksgiving, Winter in Paris and the return to my beloved country.

Well, it's been a long time since I last posted. I mean, Thanksgiving was only a matter of weeks ago- really? It feels like months now! Well, the last weekend in November we found ourselves in Bourges celebrating Thanksgiving with the American assistants there. It was a lovely Autumn day and I think everyone's mood matched. We'd all agreed to each bring something for the table- I made nut roast, which I was pleased to see some people try! It always pleases me when people aren't complete and utter meatheads and are willing to TRY veggie food rather than just screw up their nose and whinge about the lack of dead animal before them. Anyway, the table was amazing! Bar the turkey, I could pretty much eat anything- so many vegetables, breads and puddings lay before me. I was especially taken with the pumpkin soup we had for starter and the pumpkin pie for dessert- I freaking love pumpkin!! I was also extremely pleased to find a big bowl of mulled wine on the table- if there's anything to love about Winter, it's the hot drinks!
Like the big greedy bugger I am, I went straight to the food without mentioning that we'd been given plenty demonstration by the Americans what Thanksgiving was about:

Pilgrims and Indians obviously!

After absolutely stuffing our faces, we of course went around the room and said what we were thankful for, I'd say everyone pretty much had the same things to say- family, the opportunity we have at the moment to explore other cultures and the fact we have each other. Bar me, who after my week of hell said I was thankful that my knee was healing and that I'd lost nothing that couldn't be replaced. It's not remotely that I'm not thankful for all the first things, but I'm thankful for them every day- it's amazing how lucky I am to have so many awesome people around me all the time, I'm never alone and it's blooming great! There's absolutely no way I would have survived without the other assistants- especially on my Tours trip, that's for certain. Hence why I'm thankful I lost things that could be replaced- cards and mobiles are, the people in your life aren't. As for my knee- it's the typical 'time heals all wounds' thing, it's just easier to see when it's physical. I'm quite frankly still marvelling at the human body's ability to heal so quickly, one minute my knee is a disgusting mess,  next there's only slight bruising- magic!

Anyway, much food was had, many pictures taken and I had great fun. Thanksgiving is a great holiday and I was pleased the Americans shared it with us, quite frankly they're troopers managing to get through such a big family holiday being miles away from home, so I hope it cheered them a bit.

The week following this, my parents arrived so I went off to meet them in Paris. I was more than prepared to hear a lot of complaining, but I was mostly expecting it from mother- due to the sever lack of veggie food. Hence it was funny when it was dad that was the least impressed- no English speaking channels on the TV, despite being a meat eater he wasn't particularly taken with the food and he and mother pretty much needed a pee-stop everywhere, which is apparently hard to find in Paris where every train toilet was out of order. The parents had booked in at an hotel some miles out of the centre, so we had fun hopping on the train and then trying to figure out where we were exactly when we got off in the centre. Dad and I were prepared to carry on down the road when mother called out "Is that building supposed to look like the Arc de Triomphe?" Needless to say it wasn't 'a building', first landmark spotted and now we could identify where the hell we were. We stopped for a quick, expensive lunch in a café where we had the pleasure of meeting Rosetta the teacup-sized Yorkshire terrier who was sitting at the table next to us and acting up as only a baby can, yapping and nipping at her owner- she was absolutely adorable. We lost our Yorkie a couple of years ago, and since have pined for every single one that has walked by us since, the little buggers just have so much character! And in Paris, there were Yorkies EVERYWHERE! The temptation to smuggle one into a bag was constant.

After finally tearing ourselves away from Rosetta, we got on a tour bus so as to see as much in one day as possible. 

My parents.

Mother and I and bloody great big soldier!

Really wanted to see Esmerelda...

Instead, saw Santa.

It was great fun, but as the light started to dim, the chill started to set in as did stress as I wanted to get the train back at 6.40 and it was 5.30. Seems like a lot of time, but Paris is HUGE and trying to make your way across it can be hellish. Needless to say, I missed my train. This wouldn't have been dreadful, if the next one wasn't at 6.30am. I had work that day, so yes, I was up at 4.30am, running across Paris like a mad woman to get on that train. How great I felt for putting all that effort in when I discovered that some of my classes had been cancelled that day anyway (just nobody thought to tell me) and i was so blooming tired that I just left my one remaining class to make posters while I flopped at a desk trying my best not to shut my eyes and drift off. Knackered!

Eventually my parents arrived in Isengard. Trying to get them a taxi from the train station to mine proved to be absolutely hopeless however. Ask a Frenchie in Issoudun if there are any good taxis, and they simply laugh at you. And no wonder, every single number I phone: "n'est pas possible". As I walked to meet my parents, many empty taxis went past me but all with red lights, one even stopped outside the bakery, got out and came back with a baguette- absolute pisstaker! 

After much grumbling, we got back to my flat having walked it with all their luggage. The grumbling didn't stop there, my TV didn't work, my water was too hard, calcium build-ups everywhere.. I was prepared for a week of hell, but within a matter of days, I'd had things fixed, cleaned and cooked for me- blooming marvellous! My dad had fixed everything up in a matter of minutes where the French janitor had faffed for about an hour then shook his head and mumbled about coming back later, to never return again. 

As my working week finished (where I'd had to correct some boys and explain why Theo Walcott is not a famous football 'streaker' but a 'striker' and explain why I was giggling), mother and I decided we wanted to go to Disneyland. Absolutely childish it may seem but the pair of us were excited as hell. And so we should have been!

Our hotel was decorated for Christmas!

The park was full of festive displays and parades such as a Goofy Santa.

The moment of absolute joy for me came when we were outside having lunch and hot chocolate when fake snow started fall down and the song 'It feels like Christmas' from the Muppet Christmas Carol played by a brass band came loudly across the speakers in the park. I pretty much squealed and bounced like a typical childish girly girl. I was definitely in the festive spirit! I absolutely loved my time in Disneyland, it was great watching the little kids getting hyper and dressing up. The only thing we could possibly complain about was our dinner, decidedly 'gourmet' meals are not for us. We've had disappointment after disappointment where gourmet food is concerned, and this was no exception. Mother and I didn't expect much for us veggies, but even dad was disgusted. While we were served the driest, blandest pasta mixed with very little cooked vegetables, no sauce, dad was served a plate of barely cooked zander fish- it stank to high heaven and was still slightly grey in the middle, along with a vegetable we didn't then recognise, the French's beloved endives. Well, endives taste like earwax quite frankly, hence why I don't believe them to be that popular in Britain, thank god! After picking away through our meal, we were relieved to be served a cheese course... Or so we thought, before us sat what I believe to be some of the unpasteurised cheese that the French also bewilderingly love, the reason why us Brits tend to avoid it I can only guess is because it stinks like horse piss and tastes like it perhaps was milked from a horse, or a pig... all the farm bar the cow quite frankly. Well, we returned to our hotel room, slightly green, washing our hands repeatedly and trying to get the lingering stench out of our nostrils before heading back to the park to see the festive lights in all their glory, and to find something nicer to munch on. 

Despite our hideous meal, everything else was fantastic. I was even delighted to meet Jack Skellington, what a dude! He totally checked me out.

See! Sally who?

I did NOT want to leave, I loved it there and quite frankly, the thought of going back to work when you feel so festive is a complete comedown. At least for the most part I just got to play Christmas themed games with the kids such as a competition to see who can make the most words out of 'Christmas tree', it got surprisingly competitive! And I played Christmas themed Pictionary with the younger ones, which just about became a bloodbath as they got even more competitive and high as hell on sweets. I was disappointed to find out that some of the kids didn't know what an elf was, even in French... They shall never know the joy of Buddy the Elf. 

Anyway, my last week in Issoudun was ace, we watched Xmas films, went to the Xmas market and drank even MORE mulled wine while I got sucked into buying crepes for everyone as my students were running a stall there, and on the last night we got together and had a Secret Santa, made our own paper hats and an Xmas roast. It was fab. :)

Everything was great. But I had to travel back up to Scotland- yayyy Scotland! BOOOOO travel! The 4.30am start wasn't the hard thing, nor was negotiating Paris, the hell began at Charles de Gaulle airport. I was sent here, there and everywhere by clueless workers, met many more exasperated travellers in wrong queues, LONG queues, flights had been cancelled to some areas and it was basically just chaos. As the time of my flight got closer and closer, I came closer and closer to tears and wanted to just throw myself down in a childish strop on the airport floor and scream that nobody knew how to do their jobs. Eventually, a tired, hungry, haughty me found myself in the right place and with the right people- they were cheery and managed to have me smiling again in a matter of seconds. 

One trouble done. On to the next one.

Eventually got to Birmingham where my flight was delayed by an hour so I was stressed that I wouldn't make my connecting flight at Aberdeen. But we made it in time.

From Aberdeen- simple. Got home. No luggage at Kirkwall Airport. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

I'd barely eaten, I was tired as hell as I'd been up since 3.30am British time and I was just not amused. My luggage still hasn't arrived. But thank buggery I'm home now. Reunited with British food, all English speakers and my kitty! Absolutely delighted. And the best thing was seeing my little cousins yesterday, all chuffed to get their Minnie ears from Disneyland. :)
Now if only I can get out of the annoying habit of waking up at 9am... ><

You absolute vagina!

(The title of this blogpost is dedicated to the absolute cunt who stole my phone and purse last Saturday, and is a direct quote of the text I sent them the next morning when I discovered the full extent of the damage they'd caused me.)

So, our weekend in Tours set out to be a fun time from the beginning. I got slightly bus sick on the way there and had to swap seats for one in the aisle.

This was our bus, I kid you not. (Soc Interurban Transport centre, of course the French swap the last two words around) I found it somewhat amusing. I am slightly upset now as I realise this was the last picture I took with my Blackberry which I miss shitloads right now. :(

We began by meeting Isy's friend Alex, who is an assistant in Tours, she showed us around the old parts (the studenty part) of the town where we met Rachel and Clara. After a nice wee drink we headed to find food and our hotel, which was fun as Clara was on crutches and French people aren't particularly mindful towards handicapped people- in fact, they make targets out of them, barging past and perhaps hoping to knock them over. When you add this to the fact that, much like Edinburgh, Tours' main streets are a bloody nightmare to negotiate due to the work on trams- ramps everywhere, completely uneven ground and everyone forced to walk in single file, you can see the difficulties. In Tours,  if you want to get to two places that are just across from one another- good luck! You are forced to walk a mile (bit of an exaggeration) full circle to get to a place that is literally 3 metres away, if only you could walk through the barriers... Sigh. 

Anyway, we found the hotel, got some drinks and had a nice Italian dinner. Once we returned to our hotel we played a drinking game (much like Ring of Fire, but with bits of paper in a cup- lethal).

And from that point on, my life went downhill. After so many whiskies, once we hit town- town hit me, literally. Remember how I was saying about those annoying trams? Well, I came across a ramp and pretty much flung myself down it, absolutely tearing my knee to shit. As I was more than a little tipsy, I was adamant that I was "fiiiiine, done worse before", thank god the others saw sense and dragged me into the nearest bar to clean me up- cos quite frankly I had taken quite a large chunk out of my skin. (Thanks again folks!)

You would think that that would be the worst done with, but no. After having quite a lot of fun, and unfortunately more drinks in a club- where the DJs didn't know Crystal Castles to my drunken annoyance, we got home and I found out that my purse and Blackberry were gone. To add insult to injury, I still have my absolute brick of a French phone. As Rachel wisely pointed out, there was nothing to do at that time but go to bed and worry about it in the morning, which I did... Next day, voila! I woke up to find out that some arseholes had been on my FB, and quite obviously gone through my private messages as they had targeted my ex, clearly they thought it would be fun to add yet more problems to my life. It's horrible to know that someone has looked through your extremely private messages and found all the most hurtful stuff that has happened to you, and found it extremely funny and wished to add more emotional stress. It's so spiteful, and I feel extremely violated. 

Anyway, I sent my text (the title of this blog). I knew I wasn't going to see any of my stuff again. Phone contract and cards were quickly cancelled, I phoned the local police station when I got home and started to try piece everything together again. I got everything sorted... Eventually. The joy of France is that everything of importance (the bank) is closed Sunday and Monday, and the town goes into a 2 hour lock-down every lunchtime as everyone heads home for food. Can you imagine that happening in Britain?! Everyone just goes on a looooooooong lunchbreak, the French really don't have a reason to be miserable bastards, they get to go home and make a meal instead of scoffing down a Mars bar and a Lucozade in a matter of minutes before the afternoon rush. How anyone gets anything done, I don't know, if you work 9-5 your only option to go out and get your bits and pieces is on Saturday.

Now back to the  knee that I fucked. By the time I got home, it was a big mess- pus everywhere! Honestly, this happened to the same leg that I had just managed to stab with a  pair of scissors that very week (I was opening a box, and the box stopped but the scissors didn't). After visiting the school nurse twice (which was nice as she started asking me for English words and phrases, and was generally a pleasant person to be around), I realised it still wasn't healing much. In fact, I was hobbling around like Mad Eye Moody. I was very lucky in that the secretary of the Lycée decided to call her own doctor for me and get me an appointment, she even drove me there herself- absolute doll! 

Well, visiting a doctor in France is fun. It's like going to an accountant, there were 3 card machines glowing on the desk and a cash box. He took one look at my knee, peeled off my bandage covered in pus and SNIFFED it! I know that it is the most effective way of discovering infection, but ick...

It didn't smell bad anyway, so I'm not going to die of blood poisoning and have my leg cut off like I originally imagined. It's just going to take a century for me to grow back skin.

After the intimate moment of pus sniffing, he then robbed me blind again. I know I'll get money back from MGEN after sending away the forms, but having to dish out 70 euros for medical expenses when you have no card is a complete and utter bitch! I certainly miss the NHS now. 

Anyway, throughout all this. I did well not to break down and cry, I simply had to get on with things and back to preparing classes. Unfortunately that morning I had to swap classes last minute to work with a class who were studying Miley Cyrus. I was NOT in the mood for 'Party in the USA', I'm NEVER in the mood for 'Party in the USA'. I felt well and truly cursed.

In the next class we did an English Karma quiz, which just made me wonder what the fuck I'd done to deserve all this crap in one go- did I kick a baby in the face in a past life?

All was fine, until I cut my finger with a bread knife- something so little and silly, but at this point I just felt cursed and went in to a complete meltdown while finding myself a plaster. I was contemplating whether in fact I'd not only kicked a baby, but blown-up an entire maternity unit in a past life. Or perhaps I was actually Gengis Khan in a past life who, according to Loren's beloved Uberfacts, killed 11% of the world's population. 

Needless to say, everything felt better after a good cry. 

Now things are coming together again, my new cards are being sent, I FINALLY got a landline installed and will be getting cheap internet soon, and I can only hope that the nice man from Carphone Warehouse realises I just ran out of credit while filing my insurance claim- if not, mother can work it out. 

Today I had really nice classes, if they were this sweet all the time everyone would want to teach! Honestly. 

Let's hope things can continue looking up from here on.

The 2 hour shit, another whiskered companion and the return to Isengard.

Quite the long title for a blog post, I agree.

Following Halloween, I found myself whisked to my cousin Joop's (pro. Yope) house for his wife's birthday and found myself blinking in absolute disbelief to find my cousins Mandy and Arline now at eye-level, if not taller than me (last I saw them they were still kids, not big gangly teenagers). I also saw uncle Hans, cousin Johnny and aunt Bep, so I felt I could breath easy knowing that they'd all got the chance to see me for a short while. 

The next night we were at my friend Anne's for her birthday, it was great seeing her and finally getting to meet her boyfriend Dik. After living in the countryside of France, I'm far more amazed at my Dutch friends being able to hold conversations with me and understanding me so well that I don't have to slow down my speech for them. If I tried talking to anyone my age in English in France, I'd get nothing more than a wide-eyed expression and a mutter of "chepas" (dunno). 

Well, after that came the day of the 2 hour shit. I was shocked to discover that my 9 year old cousin still had her bum wiped when she went two-sie, in a case that was definitely 'could but wouldn't'. I think my shocked expression gave her mother the final push to let the little one do it herself. Wellllll, 2 hours (yes, TWO HOURS, she was that determined she wasn't doing it herself) of screaming, shouting, throwing things, crying and cursing like a Dutch sailor, my little cousin eventually returned from the toilet, cowed, having wiped her own bum which I gathered was rather sore after sitting on the porcelain throne for a great length of time. Huzzah! 

After that, I spent quite a lot of time lazing, watching TV (I have none in France) and streaming Criminal Minds and Game of Thrones. However, my cousin's internet is slow and the moment someone else tries to get online- you get knocked off, which led to me getting rather impatient when MJ got ill after her injections and wanted on her laptop every time I was on mine, and wanting the TV when I gave-up even trying to download videos and resorted to watching Comedy Central... after this became quite the pattern, I decided to head out a walk for my own sanity, to get away from the Dutch kid music in particular:

This delightful example is from the Dutch Junior Eurovision, with such inspired lyrics as "I'm a teenager, I do what I want!"

I decided to try head for some fields I'd seen earlier, I'd seen a path and wanted to follow it- turns out it leads straight back to the motorway... But before I made this somewhat annoying revelation, I had a nice breezy walk through mud and grass (just what the country girl in me needed). I was also surprised to come across what must have been hundreds, if not, thousands of geese! 

It made me feel at home, Orkney has its fair share of geese but the number of them in Vinkeveen took my breath away I have to say. After stopping to marvel a while, I carried on till I came to a bit a of a dead end.

As I realised my way forward led to the motorway, I decided to turn around and go back the way I came, gandering at the geese once more while feeling all my muscles relax and my mind mellow as I took in the sun and listened to the Coraline soundtrack, which is brilliant music for chilling and adventuring in my opinion.

'Exploration' by Bruno Coulais

On my walk back I came across another feline friend, black and white, much like Captain Nemo. Again, I believe this cat had a Dutch accent, while French cats are whiny and high-pitched, Dutch cats have a deeper, lower yowl...

My new companion decided to lead the way home for a while, till he got unsure and tried to follow me- somehow I don't think my cousin's hamster or budgies would have been thrilled at the new arrival so I had to ditch him. Cutie though, huh? 

On my last day in Holland, my cousin treated me to a lovely meal- I was delighted to go out somewhere and NOT have goat's cheese salad, the French really need to explore other veggie options for crying out loud. The amount of meat ingested in this country should not be healthy. Instead, I had the most amazing pumpkin risotto and was amused to find that what could be the only other Brit in the restaurant of a tiny town in Holland, was seated at the table right next to ours. Saying that, I heard fireworks on Guy Fawkes night and wondered if there were more Brits abroad- we really do get everywhere!

And on my last night, I got bitten to buggery by a mosquito- at 5am I woke to a buzzing in my ear and with my ninja reflexes got the little bastard against the wall. I don't know if you've ever squashed a mosquito, but it's rather satisfying as it actually explodes with blood- your blood! I'm actually the kind of person that wouldn't normally hurt a fly, but that little git harmed me first! I've been bitten several times on the arm, on the bum(?! I slept with leggings on!!), on the neck, on the chest, and, I believe, on the eye. Which you'll find more on later...

Anyway, I found myself at the train station waving a sad goodbye to my cousins and starting my trip back to Isengard (Issoudun), so called as the only thing of significance it has bar pile-ons is a white tower like the one in Lord of the Rings. Well, all went smoothly till I got to Paris and decided to brave the Metro- which as everyone knows is where the phrase "stuffed like sardines in a can" must come from. Some big fat black behemoth of a woman decided she wanted a seat, an improbability as I was squashed into the aisle- still this woman continued to say "excusez-moi" while I could do nothing but twitch and say sorry. She decided to force her way through. Seeing as the space between the seats could barely contain this woman, with me also in said space, the pressure increased until I finally went flying like a cork out of a champagne bottle into some poor Asian lads' laps, they kinda looked the type that played Dungeons and Dragons and seemed to be extremely terrified to find a female flung on top of them. As I struggled to my feet and relocated my suitcase, we came to a stop- the Behemoth got up and got out. ONE STOP! She'd caused all that trouble to sit down for one fucking stop! I could have booted her arse out of those doors.

After this stressful encounter, I got on the train for Limoges. Well, that increased my anxiety levels. I dislike travelling at night at the best of times as I can't look out the window and make sure of where I am, but the driver left 10mins late, stopped 30 times on a 4 stop train and announced nothing... My 8.30 arrival time to Issoudun came and went, the poor French woman next to me had to deal with a lot of twitching and questions until the girl with the trolley came- we were all about 40mins late according to her. WHAT?! How it was possible to stretch a train journey that long I'll never know. But at 9.30, une heure plus tard!!! I found myself in Issoudun. Carting a heavy suitcase wasn't great in the first place, but when I got in and came face-to-face with all the stairs to my flat, I could have sat on top of my luggage and just cried. About 10 dizzying minutes later, seeing stars and tasting blood in the back of my throat, I entered my flat. TEA, FOOD, LAPTOP, WASH! As I looked in the mirror I saw my eyelid had swollen up, and when I tore off my jumper, I was delighted to see great big red welts where I'd been bitten- and now that I was relaxed, they were bloody itchy! After consulting the internet, I decided to go for the teabag fix, as I was gunna have a cuppa anyhow. Literally, take the teabag while it's still hot- hot as you can stand it and shove it on top of the mosquito bite- it worked, it hurts SO good! Itching had stopped. 

However, this morning when I woke up the bites still hadn't gone down, nor my eye, so it's safe to assume I'm allergic to mosquito bites. After a long steamy bath in the hope to stop more itching, I went to the Pharmacy and got some cream, so that's where I am now- covered in cream and about to go flop on the couch with J.K Rowling's new book and put a cold teabag on my eye in the hope that it'll reduce some of the swelling... C'est la vie.

Halloween in Holland.

After about a day of travelling to Issoudun which led to me almost falling asleep face first into a pizza, and later face-planting onto my bed (completely unconscious to the world), how dismayed was I to find the French had holidays a few weeks later? While some of the assistants living near the South of Britain were delighted to be going home again so soon, I threw quite the tantrum: "I JUST GOT HERE!"
However, I soon saw this as an opportunity to go visit my family in Holland, it's been 4 years since I was last here so it's about time I caught up with them and saw how the little ones had grown.

I wrapped up my week in France by lugging a Jack-O'-Lantern from class to class, doing Halloween quizzes and telling the kids what activities we did in Scotland, such as 'dooking for apples', and saying how it's more traditional to have a neep as a lantern (a "neepy lantern", unfortunately the teacher heard "neeKy lantern" and was shouting this at the class- I didn't have the heart to correct her in front of them all). I then went to other classes and taught them the words to Thriller, played Halloween Pictionary with the younger ones, and got into a bit of a debate with the teacher of one class who were looking for the rhyming words in Thriller- yes neighbourhood and blood sort of rhyme, but as the kids are already saying "bloo-d" instead of "blud" I felt it would lead to some confusion later so scrapped that one. It's more important for them to get their pronunciation right in this case, you can't exactly shout at them that it's pronounced "blud" whilst telling them it rhymes with neighbourhood, which was what she was doing...
Anyway, I had lots of fun and I think the kids did as most of them were throwing their own dance-moves in class.

My Jack lantern- kept him traditional this year. Never getting a pumpkin this size again though, it took HOURS of scooping.

Come Saturday, I was packed and off to the train station in  a flash. I was rather nervous about negotiating Paris alone- I'd avoided it on the way down, preferring to arrive in Nantes, I needn't have worried though- you can hail a taxi just about anywhere if you're not willing to take the metro. However, after being in the middle of France where the weather is somewhat mild- Paris was fucking FREEZING! Ever seen Cool Runnings when they arrive at the airport? Yeah, that was me- just about turning my entire suitcase out to wear everything at once.

For those of you who haven't seen it- you should! No excuses.

After spending some time in Paris sharing pine-nuts with a pigeon (I love plosives), I was sat at a table of 4 with a Dutch family on the train to Holland- slightly awkward, but I was rather fascinated as the mother got out a tin and started stitching small clothes to a doll.

With a bit more train switching, I was soon in Utrecht and receiving a warm welcome from my cousins Sandra and Mary-Jane. There was warm spicy pumpkin soup on the stove, and a Halloween mask and card awaiting me. 

I should say MJ doesn't speak any English yet, but she does understand me perfectly. Also Halloween isn't popularly celebrated here, so this was particularly thoughtful.

I love my British holidays, so it's been great coming here and having the family getting in the spirit especially for me- MJ and I played Nacht op het Kerkhof (Night at the Cemetery) and watched Coraline. We also made Halloween style cakepops:

Then, on actual Halloween, Sandra had guests- an old friend of the family who married a Londoner, and their daughter, so I was delighted to speak to more English speakers! As MJ was away for most of the day, I kept 7 year old Aisha occupied by making Halloween decorations, with some Katy Perry in the background- I was quite appalled to find out that even she didn't really get to celebrate Halloween in London, just pfft! Kids should be allowed to dress up and get high on sweeties... And so should I. 

Aisha proudly presenting our work.

When MJ got back, we watched Monster House and later fashioned some costumes, Mj made a good wee devil:

I then got a call from my parents to go on Skype, I was delighted to see my 3 wee cousins at home were all dressed up for Halloween (witches) and were still buzzing on sweets after doing lots of trick-or-treating. They then proceeded to pull faces at the webcam while telling me how they'd shaving foamed their gran's car... I really shouldn't be so proud of them, the little brats that they are!






On a side-note, it's great being somewhere with lots of water again (being from an island I was starting to miss it), I am delighted by the food here- HARD CHEESE!! The French have lovely cheese, don't get me wrong, I can sit and eat a whole wedge of brie by myself, but I'm missing cheddar something hellish... But Dutch cheese is just as gouda (ah, bad pun), I particularly love the cheese that has cumin bits. And, I had a good chuckle that the Dutch have an expression- doing the cleaning 'the French way' (badly), I'm sure the French would be delighted.

Bourges- Part I-II

Well, I have to say it's been a while since our first trip to Bourges- I believe it was another somewhat early morning start, which was thrilling for poor Isy who didn't quite get enough time to shake her hangover but plenty to acquaint herself with train station toilets.

On the upside, it was a beautiful sunny day and Bourges is quite a pretty little town- a big step-up from Issoudun, boasting a gorgeous Gothic cathedral (Saint-Étienne) and streets that feel like you've just stepped into the Middle Ages:

Gotta love all the lattice-work.

We met up with a LARGE group of assistants from around the area- I think there was about 15 of us, which led to a bit of trouble at lunchtime... All in all, it felt like a bit of a school-trip. We visited a French comic-con, which I have to say is nowhere near as exciting as an American one. There were no people dressed-up, it was a rather quiet affair with a bunch of elderly French people smoking at the door- dull. However, there were some interesting displays and I believe everyone was rather pleased to see some Lord of the Rings illustrations.

Then came the tourist train- which again, didn't scream fun as we were all packed in like sardines, and an elderly French trio and a German group joined our car. After what was not so much a quick-shop at H&M (German boys can really take their sweet time in there- eh Sam?), our Issoudun group headed home with a Rachel (an assistant in Vierzon) in tow. I really enjoyed my day out in Bourges, but have to say it felt ace getting back and sitting down to watch The Twin Towers with pizza and a cuppa.



Bourges part II: We returned to Bourges for Katie's birthday. This time the weather was less than cheerful, but I believe we set out with a better mood- more sleep makes for better company. Isy also had a new camera which she got snap happy with:

Check out the girl in the background- stinkeye much? Of course we immediately noticed this and started laughing, but unfortunately she seemed to notice too and thought this was the perfect time to practise her English. Although not looking at us, she proceeded to shout "Fuck you! Fuck! Do you speak English?" It was such an awkward situation, I was quite glad she didn't stick around when we got off the train.

Anyhow, we arrived safely in Bourges, met the birthday girl and got drinks- while the others got 1 euro wine that came in a plastic bottle, I splashed out a bit and got some Desperados, and thank god as their drink tasted like vinegar! It was quite a nice, chilled-out evening, again we had a large group which made it somewhat difficult to talk to everyone. We had a meal (goat's cheese and salad for me AGAIN- this is the soul thing I can find on any French menu that is vegetarian, I am most likely never gunna want it again when I return home) then headed back to the flat for a few drinking games and some Spice Girls. It was a good night, birthday girl got well and truly trashed,and started speaking in nought but French which I have to say was rather impressive! 

Next morning the hangovers were cured by Pat a Pain and another H&M shop before getting the train back to Issoudun, pizza makes a most excellent breakfast. 

Meetings.

As you can imagine with all the paperwork we have to fill in, there also comes plenty of meetings. The first meeting for assistants in this region took place in Orléans, I cannot say I was particularly thrilled about having to catch a train at about 6.45am, but hey ho. Ultimately, I felt the majority of this first meeting was a waste of time- literally everything I needed to know could have been summed up within 30mins, but instead us Europeans had to sit through talks about Visas etc. and of course there was time wasted on stupid questions which led to me pulling my scarf tighter and tighter around my neck.

However, I got some pretty pictures while on our whistle-stop tour of the city.

The French love their water features...

And this man loved his teddybear so much, he took it to work and strapped it in the passenger seat, I'm absolutely gutted that he sped up as soon as I got my camera out. We'd seen him earlier in the morning too.

And our second meeting took place in Chateauroux, I can't say it went to a good start- Isy and I were late, the ticket office at the train station wasn't open so we had to spend our last pennies buying tickets on the train, then we got slightly lost in the city, were sent on a wild goose-chase around the school trying to find the other assistants, then were so happy to find out that lunch would cost over 5 euros. Fortunately the professeur  in charge was very understanding and kind. 

The other assistants appeared lovely, though I have to say I felt very outnumbered on the carnivorous front as they all berated vegans whilst going on about how they couldn't live without meat. I also found the lunchtime chat about Proust a bit difficult to digest. I have to say I found it amusing that one of the assistants seemed annoyed and surprised that his kids knew nothing/couldn't care less about politics, cos you know- 11-15 year olds today, I just can't get them off their wee soapboxes. 

I saw this yesterday on The Breakfast Club FB page, thought it somewhat appropriate. 

As for my most important meetings- with the students, I have to say I've got a lively bunch at the college (tweens) and I've got another mixed lot at the lycée (teens). For the most part I'd say they're a good bunch, though I've heard some tales at the college e.g. one kid stood up and said their teacher dressed like a whore, while another class gave their teacher a present of a toothbrush as a hint he had bad breath... All I can say is I hope I don't get any presents this year, though as I'm my usual unkempt self, I may be presented with a hairbrush at some point no doubt. 

Paperwork, first impressions and a cat called Captain Nemo.

Hell, the French love their paperwork. No sooner have I filled out one form, then I'm presented with another- usually in triplicate, with a demand to sign 'here, here and here'. I've now lost count of how many times my passport has been photocopied. I feel like I've maybe signed my soul away somewhere along the line. At the moment, I'm still to fill in forms to make sure I get paid properly by my schools and tittering away at the choice of 'concubinage' under 'family status'.


On another note, I arrived in Issoudun at 2am- having spent all day travelling from Orkney (I had a 6am start), meaning I didn't really get to see my surroundings. In fact, for the first day all I did was sleep, which led to the French couple (who I stayed with the first few nights) to call me "our little doormouse". For the first few days, they went to work, leaving me without a key and therefore no way to come and go as I pleased, which meant I was very late in exploring my surroundings and getting things like bank accounts sorted. However, I'm now moved into my flat, getting semi-organised, and I've been lucky enough to find 4 other language assistants- 2 Brits, one German and one Spaniard, in this small town, so I'm actually far from lonely here.

Oh, and I've made a friend who hangs around my flat- Captian Nemo, he talks NON-STOP! I swear even French cats sound nasally.

He's quite fond of chasing the squirrels- there's tonnes of red ones here, naturally they're a protected species but Nemo doesn't seem to realise that.

Tohu-Bohu:

In modern French, "tohu-bohu" is used as an idiom for "confusion" or "commotion".-Wiki.


It's rather fitting I think, and it's a word I came across completely by accident and now love. I'm not promising this blog will be well kept- every diary I've had usually dwindles to a few words by late February, and then perhaps a sentence in August saying "Wow, I forgot about this."
I will try my best though. 

It's now less than 2 weeks till my move to France, so I'm getting slightly antsy and feeling more than a little daunted, but I'll save those fears for another post I think. Till then, here's a picture I found from http://www.willowandstone.co.uk/gifts-sundries/french-enamel-cat-and-dog-signs.php

'Nice dog/cat' and I think you can translate 'lunatique' yourself. :) I need the bottom right one for Kit, she's taken to peeing in mother's shoes lately... Actually might save my money, by the time I get back from France I imagine there'll be no cats but mother will have a nice, new pair of furry slippers.