Wednesday, 5 January 2011

BFHB

What was I saying about staying in Paris and making the most of it and not going back to England every chance I get? Just booked myself on the Eurostar for the Seventh time to go to 'Mulletover's 7th Birthday'... seven is my lucky number! It really is! and the date I return to Paris will be 03/04... what do 3 and 4 make? SEVEN!

So you see, I had to do it.

Oh my god. Just checked how much it cost. £77 (and fifty pence but whose counting pennies?) It's Destiny. Do you know what else? There are seven letters in my name. My room is number seven. My birthday is 07/07. Sometimes I feel like I am the number seven, in human form.

Apparently it is going to be amazing, click here to hear what I will be dancing to...

Anyway, I've realised people don't like to hear about nice things I am doing, you only want to know when I am fucking up badly, eating cheese in the bathroom and hiding from French children. As many, many, many people have now said to me in real life and through this blog, 'You make me feel better about my own life.'

So in the spirit of this, I am going to go out tomorrow night and get hideously drunk, then stay at Lauren's, then get up at 7am in order to go my French lesson at 8am which I have no idea how to get to it. I've had one lesson so far and it was ok, but I left my room at 7am because I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get there and in the end the bus took five minutes. BUT I don't understand the timetable at all so I have to give myself loads of time in case it doesn't come. So it looks like I will always be forty minutes early or forty minutes late.

The lesson was ok, I didn't feel like the class Special Person, like I did in GCSE Physics one lesson when Miss Twat gave me cutting and sticking to do and everyone else practice papers (seriously, what a bitch. But I bet she still has SHIT HAIR, so HA). I have French class twice a week with a group of what seem to be mostly other au pairs, and then on a Friday we have this lecture thing in a different building. I've tried to find it before just so I know where it is and I ended up at the Arc de Triumph, which is unfathomably far away from where I started.

So, it will be fun finding it after three hours sleep and feeling very hungover. After my 'lecture' I will have go and pick up the eight year old girl and her chum from school; take them back and cook lunch for them, me and the eleven year old; then take them all back to school; then go back to the house and sort out the laundry/tidy the children's bedrooms/drink as many cups of tea as I can, before picking the little boy up from school at ten to four, taking him to the park for forty minutes of tig with him and inevitably every other little boy in the park while their au pairs sit on the bench chatting and smirking; then I will have to take the eight year old her horse riding gear; then take the little boy back to the house, cook dinner, make sure the boy and the eleven year old have showers and get ready for bed; then go back to mine for a couple more brews; then go back to the house at about half eight for babysitting, which is normally til about two am.

To be fair, it sounds like I have a lot to do, but not anything particularly difficult. But a simple thing like 'making dinner' isn't simple. What do I cook? What will they eat? What needs using up in the fridge? What doesn't contain protein? What is healthy? What is fiilling but not 'too much' as they constantly scream at me over meals?

They may have a point though. I generally eat 'everything there is'. If there's anything left in the pan/bowl/bag/oven/tin/packet/box/fridge, I feel like I must eat it. Whereas here they just eat a little so that they are not hungry. I thought it was having an effect on me actually, look at the size of my Christmas dinner:



I was thinking like I'd eaten loads and loads but Lauren looked at the photo and pointed out that there actually isn't a lot of food there. The French way of not over eating may have sunk in subconciously! Actually, on this photo my Christmas dinner doesn't look very nice and I'd hate to think of anyone being under the impression that I don't have the nicest Christmas dinner in the world. The parsnips aren't burnt they were sort of caramalised in honey, and bear in mind this is before grazy, and bread sauce, and there's three types of meat on the plate, it's not dodgy turkey. Hmmm... perhaps a career in food photogropahy isn't on the cards then.

Is it a lot? It doesn't look like a lot but then I guess I did have a few helpings after the first plate. And starter obviously and then Christmas pudding. And cheese and crackers. I think I will go on a diet this year though because the little boy said my stomach was gargantum so that's two five year olds now that have told me I have a big, fat belly. (BFB) Luckily they haven't seen under my top or they'd know it was BFHB too. If you don't know what the H stands for, feel blessed.

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