From hence forth shall Wednesday be known as Lots of Fucking Walking Day and also in some circles, Let Us Have a Breakdown on The Subway Day.
On a Wednesday I have to take les enfants to their music lesson, which is o.k except I don't know where it is. Today the dad came with me to show me, but then we walked round in circles and came home a different way, so I may have to Google 'Piano for Kids', roll up my sleeves and sack the whole thing off.
Then there is lunch and 'playing'. 'Playing' is a trap I have got myself into many times before with young children, by which I mean I will one day make the mistake of shouting 'Let's pretend we're on a magic boat!' and do a great mime of somebody catching and struggling to hold a fish (three years of studying drama at univeristy not wasted, thank you very much) and then from that day forth I am expected to behave like one of those furry toys that have a string you pull to make them vibrate, except instead of a long string I have long hair and instead of vibrating I leap and jump and pretend to be looking at faraway islands with my invisible telescope.
The family keeps asking me why I am so tired all the time. I can't really say 'Because in England I spend 80% of my time sleeping' or 'Because I don't know the French for 'Got any coke, mate?''
On Wednesday afternoons after much 'Playing' and lunch (which today was a plate of peas and a piece of turkey ham) I have to then take les enfants to horse riding, which is two subway rides away and a VERY LONG WALK and honestly I am not being mardy it is a massive trek over the Most Dangerous Bridge in France and then a perilious uphill journey through the Forest of Gondor.
The dad also came with me to horse riding today, but there is no way on earth I wiil find it next week.
The Forest of Gondor was to be fair a very nice park, although there were many conkers which meant I had to stifle back the tears as they reminded me of Lyme Park. Lyme Park, the apple of my eye... before I came to Paris I went there One Last Time (everything I did was for the Last Time because I had the weirdest feeling I was never coming back to England and was going to die here. I think it was a pyschic premonition, my mum said it was an idiotic premonition. But actually she also said 'I know you like your Thierry Henry types but... well you have seen La Haine haven't you?' so you decide who is idiotic). (Actually, when my mum said that I was secretly thinking 'Why do you think I'm going? For the peas and turkey-ham!?' but I have already asked the dad where Le Ghetto is and he says it's a fair subway ride away, and even I can't be bothered travelling that far to be roughed up by sexy French hoodlums.)
What was I talking about? Ah yes, I was talking about how I went to Lyme Park One Last Time and how the massive woodland I have to voyage through to get to the horse riding school reminded me of it.
Well, as we walked through this mythical forest, the dad turned to me and said 'You can do your jogging here, it is very nice.' I must have looked like someone threw a bag of Tetley's Tea in the bin because he said 'You know, faire du jogging, you say you go four times a week?'
This is why you must not lie on application forms people!!! Now, as well as doing all this walking and fasting, I must jog four times a week just so they don't think I am a compulsive liar as well as a Lazy Person.
I also didn't mention in my application that I was allergic to horses, as I am allergic to all of God's creations, even cats, although this does not stop me grabbing them and lovingly rubbing them on my face at every available opportunity but that is another story.
So, Wednesdays are now my Day of Doom.
Hey, but guess quoi? The little boy needed the toilet when we were at the horse riding, so I took him to reception and I said 'Excusez-moi, ou est les toilettes?' and she told me and although I didn't understand her, I found them quite quickly! A small victory, my friends, but a victory nonetheless.