It's so kickass it deserves an entire post....

WAIT TILL YOU SEE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME. I really hope that the whole Mean Girls strategy of slutness being acceptable on the 31st applies in France...

A bear went over the mountain ... to see what he could see

We have sucessfully integrated ourselves into the inner circle of Lycee Militaire life, which essentially means that if I need booze at 3pm I know who to ask or what cupboards to raid. My students have copped onto my love (and need) for cheese thus have taken to stealing it from the canteen and bringing it as a bribe for lesser homework (and for the record it totally works). Dudes, cheese is massivley the 21st century apple.

Sooooo, not only have we now taken part in the school x-country (note to readers : seriously hilarious photos to come) but we tagged along to the annual Prepa initiation ceremony whereby the new students (and us language assistants) have to climb the nearby Mont Saint Victoire in lycra at a supersonic speed. Imagine Lord of the Rings crossed with Ants and throw in a little Cool Runnings for the sake of it and you have pretty much got it down.
Nat, Stephanie and I (the other English and German assistants)
At the summit
Mountain snacks.
Phillipe, one of many (but by far my favourite) militaires at school


Autumn has hit Aix and the leaves are all amazing shades of oranges, yellows and browns. Autumn in England means RAIN RAIN RAIN, autumn in Aix means 25 degree weather but you wear boots in a faux attempt to pretend its cold. I really don't like the fact I'm starting to dig France so much.



Day trip to London to hang out with my old uni roomie Sarah. We spent about 6 hours looking and/or salavating over all the food at Borough Market on the South bank where S was rendered speechless over the size of the mushrooms (IT'S AS BIG AS MY FREAKIN HEAD).


Back to skool

Please Mrs Butler
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?

Go and sit in the hall, dear.
Go and sit in the sink.
Take your books on the roof, my lamb.
Do whatever you think.
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.
What shall I do?
Keep it in you hand, dear.
Hide it up your vest.
Swallow it if you like, love.
Do what you think best.
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps calling me rude names, Miss.
What shall I do?
Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.
Run away to sea.
Do whatever you can, my flower.
But don't ask me!

Allan Ahlberg

Private school are fairly rare in France which makes where I am working even more unusual. Half run by the French military and half run by civilians (i.e. people like me) leads to a serious amount of bonkerness (new word?). So sharpen your weapons, it’s time for English class, or poetry, which is what I teach on a monday.


It's just the appearance of sanity that counts you know...

Seriously worrying re-occuring theme emerging from the last 20 odd photos I have taken. Hello reflection, how are you today? PS I have new glasses. I love them lots.


In a new light

Today “club photo” (as my prof likes to call it) was drastically easier than previous sessions but mainly because I didn’t really touch my camera and instead had to be the subject. Despite the fact I’m lacking a photographic gene (my sister took it all god dam her) I can be a good poser when necessary (mainly when copious amounts of cheap corner shop alcohol have been consumed). BUT seriously having 8 Nikon/Canon zoom lenses thrust in your face was a hell of a lot more soul bearing than I though. There was defiantly nowhere to hide, especially when you have climbed a tree so they can take photos of you pretending to be part squirrel and part English teacher.



France rocks. And don't say I told you so. Its October and its 26 degrees. I work 12 hours a week for a freaking huge money to work ratio. My photography course is the hardest thing I’ve done in a long long time but I love the fact I find it challenging. I can buy wine in the supermarket that doesn’t taste like feet for 1 Euro. AND wait for it ... frenchies think I’m Quebecois when I open my mouth (well like 3 have said I speak a bit like a drunk Grandpa which totally translates as Quebecois to me) and believe me this makes me happier than any of the preceding statements. HOWEVER despite the current love of frog land and all frogs that live there, slightly missing certain things. For example :

I miss tofu and lentils. Being a vegi sucks in France. Hummm “bah ouiiiii you are a
vegetarienne but you eat chicken non!?”
Ermm let me think about this for a second, ermmm NO!


Alcohol ... self imposed midweek tee-totalism sucks


And the rest. Self explanitory surely?

My sanity... I now understand why all my teachers were nuts :-)



This weekend = mini music festival in Marseille with Nat and the boys where our ears were treated to a mixture of We Have Band, Archive, Au Revoir Simone, Ettienne de Crecy, and Battant. And seriously the girl from We Have Band was quite possibly the coolest person I've ever seen in my whole entire life... she dressed in some AA crazy batwing leotard and a pair of very very very shiny shiny leggings, ahhhh pretty much love at first sight!!



I've spent the whole afternoon hanging out in the town hall (as you do when you are attempting to become as French as physically possible). I love old people. I especially love old French people. Fact, fact and fact! Hummmm one day :-D

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