Day 73-76 dans la maison de grand frère.

For anyone who isn’t bored of my constant weather reports, I measured a positively balmy 3 degrees in my bedroom on Thursday afternoon. Members of staff here were ‘hoping’ that the part to mend the boiler would arrive on Friday but if it doesn’t, it is likely that it won’t arrive until Monday at the earliest. If that is the case, consider this my appeal for accommodation to anyone in the Manche region.

Also that evening, I was able to sample the best of French vegetarian cuisine. I must say, it was an excellent dish for a bitterly cold December night. What was the delight? I hear you cry. That delight was some cold couscous to start and a plate of air for the main course – délicieux! Some helpful stranger told me not to worry, the salmon quiche is vegetarian. I think something might have escaped him there…

Not to brag, but I timed my Friday morning to perfection. I managed to escape the school early enough to avoid the confinement safety exercise, but late enough that I still had a respectable lie-in. I pottered around the town for a while, before going to a café/bar that I have frequented on many occasions for a little hot chocolate. Seeing as I been to this bar numerous times, I was confused when my simple question ‘How are you?’ to the barman was met with an apparent shock and discomfort. Had I asked him on a date? I certainly hope not, but it’s hard to tell what is appropriate with these traditional country folks.

Sarah and I had planned to spend Saturday in a (relatively) nearby town called Avranches. I caught the bus early in the morning and, since I was the only customer, ended up having a chat with the driver. He has a daughter called Sarah, so remembered us well on the way back.

In Avranches, we did quite a bit of Christmas shopping, visited the morning market, and had some lovely food (tomato and mozzarella tartines to be precise). It was a great day out, but I stupidly forgot to take any pictures, so I’ve got nothing to show you!

Now it’s Sunday, and I’ve got my hibernation techniques down to a tee: Pringles + Guacamole + Cosmo = recipe for success.

5 days to go!

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Rude emails, excessive kissing and freezing fingers

Dear readers, welcome to the latest installment of my thrilling French adventure. I am thinking of renaming my blog ‘Heating, and other problems with France’ but that is still subject to revision.

On Monday I went straight into work at 8am from my weekend in Rennes because I needed to sort out an incident involving a rather impolite email from a colleague and to find out what I was going to deliver in my classes of the day. As it turned out, the situation was resolved, and I was required to conduct debates on the UK’s intervention in Syria, which proved to be quite interesting. Many of the students were pro-air strikes, which I found surprising considering my own cohort’s reaction to the news. Perhaps considering the recent success of the FN in France, this is just a small example of right-wing politics among the younger generation. The afternoon found me wandering round the school looking for my students because no one had informed me of the room change for that class. Eventually, one of them found me in the corridor and led me to the others, whereupon I discussed with individuals their opinions on war films and propaganda. A day full of light and airy topics. I bailed on badminton in the evening because I have actually picked up an injury from going on the bumper cars on Sunday. This one girl had it in for me, I’m telling you. At one of her ‘bumps’ I actually cried out ‘BLIMEY!’ Very French.

Tuesday: I continued marking year 11 oral presentations, led a semi-successful activity for the year 8s, and did equally fascinating things with the year 13 and over-18s, which you can read about in my extended edition of ‘How to lose the will to live in 12 hours a week’. Besides that, I thought I’d better try doing some studying because I’m missing out on all the jokes in the staffroom. Half because I can’t understand, but I suspect half because I’m basically a lost child hanging around with my parents’ friends there. Two interesting things I noted today: 1) The excessive amount of kissing that goes on among the students before each lesson goes some way to explaining the stereotype of French lateness. 2) I’m not saying the French are unhealthy, but half of my students were rolling fags BEFORE leaving the classroom.

I began Wednesday by momentarily forgetting everything and ending a sentence with ‘I can’t even French.’ So that went well. I helped out in a couple of year 8 classes, then caught the bus to St Hilaire, where I met up with Sarah. We had pizza, cider and tarte tatin in a nice little restaurant, then chilled (literally) for the rest of the evening at my place. As I write this, I am covered in clothes, a dressing gown and a duvet and still cannot feel my fingers. If anyone would like to come and have a go at the people responsible for heating in this place, they would be very welcome indeed.

A plus (provided I still have the ability to type)