Back to skool

Please Mrs Butler
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Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.

What shall I do?
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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.
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Please Mrs Butler

This boy Derek Drew

Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.

What shall I do?

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Keep it in you hand, dear.

Hide it up your vest.

Swallow it if you like, love.

Do what you think best.

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Please Mrs Butler

This boy Derek Drew

Keeps calling me rude names, Miss.

What shall I do?

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Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.

Run away to sea.

Do whatever you can, my flower.

But don't ask me!

Allan Ahlberg

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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.

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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.

Frogletts

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 :

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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!

Hockey

Alcohol ... self imposed midweek tee-totalism sucks

Llamas

And the rest. Self explanitory surely?

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

Marsatac

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!!

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Hangin'

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

Cobra Snake

Aix brought to you Cobra Snake style. Please don’t let me drink rum. Please don’t let me out in public. And God please extend the same courtesy to my immediate friends so none of us have to nurse a 3 day hangover ever again. I think Mark Hunter would be proud ;-)
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P.S. I do believe Alice stole the Carlsberg sign as a housewarming gift for Mark..... hummmm we are all probably going to hell.

Worklife

Darn it! Contrary to the image I was trying to create, it now actually looks like my friends are rapidly disappearing. Today I'm officially an employee of the French Minister of Defense. Sounds kinda kickass doesn't it hehe

Ode to Doty

I love moving around and trying new cities and countries on for size, especially one's where excessive drinking and eating is inbuilt in their culture. However being a roamer kinda has its downsides too, like the fact suitcases and backpacks are only limited in size and you can't squash all your family and friends in there as well as the 17 pairs of shoes you want to take. What I'm trying to say is I miss Dorothy!!

Looking at me looking at you

Whooooza this past month has just been mental and I have no idea where to start or what the very random photos of my friends taking photos of me taking photos of them has anything to do with the uneducated ramblings of this post. Anyhow my current place of residence is Aix en Provence, a small spa town in the south of France. I'm working very little, drinking lots of coffee and wearing stripped tees like a good french lady would. I've signed up to a photography course so that I can finally learn how to use my beast of a camera (allbeit in French) and am taking modern and african dance lessons (yes watching me dance is really as hilarious as you think it might be). Hope to share lots more photos and anecdotes when I've finally got settled and into a normal routine so until then my friends.

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Current

Not really doing much at the moment as I'm moving to the south of France 1 week today and everything is on the wind down. I'm just making lists and lists of lists I need to make (I like lists, almost as much as I like packing, ohhhh and tea) and collating every item of stripy clothing I own and red berrets in order to look as French as possible. So her is a few things I've been diggin' of late. Fun times fun times.

Macaroons from Ladurée, especially Rose flavour, thanks Harrods!

Jeans with kickass patches

THESE CDG SHOES

Beer in my garden in the afternoon sun

Evening walks on Bridlington beach