Monday, 14 March 2011

Stop Apologising For Us, You SICK BITCH!

My three Visitors are on their way to Gare Du Nord as I type, in a taxi, having agreed to get the metro just three times the entire length of their stay. I have got more taxis this weekend than I have in the entire six months I’ve lived in Paris. Before they came, I was saying to my friend Kayt, ‘I wonder if we’ll do cheap things or if they won’t mind splashing out a bit…’ My question was answered within two hours of them arriving in Paris; I went to find them after I finished working at Friday lunch time and they were sat in a bar on the Champ Élysées, on their third round of fifteen euro cocktails.

After I left them to get back to work, which killed me a little bit inside, they went onto another cocktail bar and then got a taxi back to mine. A taxi, in Paris, after everything I have said about them being impossible to get hold of and driven by people who cannot understand English people trying to pronounce French place names. It was the start of something special…

Oh- I just got all teary. We were singing Moment 4 Life in a taxi at some point and I’m listening to it now and I wish the weekend wasn’t over. When my Visitors arrived I said ‘Oh no you’ll be gone soon’ and I was right, the weekend has gone so fast! I want to do it justice so I’ll write it up properly later for now I’ll just say that I haven’t laughed as hard, drank so much, caused as many scenes or spent money so recklessly (all on barely any sleep and, frankly, with little regard for personal hygiene) since we finished our drama degree last summer. In the words of an extremely posh person exclaiming surprise and amazement- FARQ!

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