Monday, 31 January 2011

Saturday

I didn't get my wages on Friday night like I was expecting. The dull, frolic-less weekend stretched before me like a used condom (and held all the promise)... until Amo and Lauren offered to lend me More Money. Yey for being a Bad Scrounger!

On Saturday me and Amo looked round the vintage shops in the Marais and Amo saw my room for the first time. She picked up a pyjama top that was lying on the floor and started laughing for no reason. I thought it was because it was so dusty and filthy but through her crying she managed to say that she remembered me and her and Chaz all buying the same pyjamas from Primark when we were fifteen. So I've been wearing the same £2 vest top from Primark for six years. So I won't feel guilty next time I buy myself a pair of new pyjamas which, to be honest, probably won't be for another six years.

(In fact, the little boy I look after wears an astronaut costume to sleep in and I think that 'fancy dress' is an inspired choice of night wear, because then you can dress up every day and nobody can judge you because you're asleep and they can't see you and if they can see you then the more important question would be, not 'Why are you dressed like an astronaut?' but 'Why are you in my house watching me sleep?' As soon as I find a fairy costume made of flannel and/or fleecing I'm going to do it.)

Saturday night came courtesy of Lauren. Her friend who she met when she was au pairing here three years was visiting and she brought her friend who she met in China and who is Parisien. Then we went to a bar around Bastille for leaving drinks with this other Parisien girl that Lauren met working in Oxfam in Manchester three or four years ago. It was the first time that I have socially interacted with French People, which says a lot for the Au Pair experience I think. Although my French is still terrible so I couldn’t really converse, watching Lauren speaking French to everyone reminded me why I wanted to speak French in the first place- To Show Off to my friends who can’t speak French.

The night ended with a full-blown meal at Hippopotamus at 3am and also, somehow, a full-blown argument about the Middle East, but that’s another story.





















The picture that Amo posted to her Facebook of my vintage pyjamas

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