I am 99% sure that I am staying in Paris. That 1% uncertainty is there because I don't know what to actually do in Paris...
The easiest option would be to au pair again. I don't know whether this would be a good idea or not. Some days I will be crouched behind the cupboard door, crying into my spoon as I dip it in and out of the Nutella, and I'll think in my head: I WILL NEVER, NOT EVER, DO THIS JOB AGAIN. But then other days, like Friday for example, I go to work, help myself to their chocolatey cereal*, pretend to be a lion or a baby dragon, make some robots out of lego, eat lunch, take the little boy to see a castle and walk right to the top and pretend to fire arrows at the people below... (At this point the little boy watched me in silence and when I said 'Join in!' he shook his head sadly as if to say 'I will never join in firing imaginary arrows at real people. You are a Mental and it is sad.')
I have a slight intuition that the family I work for won't want to keep Shit Au Pair on for another year, but even if they did I think I should find a job where I have to speak French with the children, then I can finally start to learn French. I say finally... I guess I could be learning it right now by listening to my Michel Thomas tapes instead of writing my blog and Facebook stalking, but... I don't want to.
My friend Clare is leaving her job and I think I'll ask her to recommend me. She gets seventy euros a week, which is half what I'm getting now BUT she only speaks French with the family and she doesn't do many hours, so I could get a job in a bar as well and do babysitting. Also, she lives in her own room underneath the family's house and it has a little courtyard and it's really, really nice and the little girl she looks after is really cute.
I wonder what my family will say though if I tell them I am getting another job up the road? I wonder how the kids will feel? Sometimes I think they hate me and won't care when I'm gone, but other times I think underneath it all, maybe... This week the eleven year old went to the shop and bought me a rose. It's really big and pretty and I almost welled up, then I realised it's the only flower anyone has ever bought me and then I really did well up.
Hmmm. What should I do?
Am I being stupid going for a job that pays half what I get now? The wage I get at the moment isn't enough- last night I spent fifty euros that I was saving for Easter Weekend and I don't even know what on. I remember there was a kebab involved and some wine... Me, Amy, Mairie and Emma went to the Bleu Note again, the place with the samba music that we went to when Rachel, Jen and Rosie were here.
The music was the same, it's brilliant, but last night there were so. many. men and they don't know when. to fuck. off. We were all dressed kind of casual, I didn't even have any eye liner on, I've lost it. Ooh I got my make-up back by the way! Desperation took hold of me yesterday afternoon and I went to the ghetto and got it. Anyway, last night, the men... In England if a weird creepy man kept pulling you away from your friends and grinding on you, you would be able to tell him to fuck off and eventually he would get the message... but last night it was if somebody had sat them down and said:
"Right lads, the way you get in a girl's knickers is to keep Pestering Her. Pull on her arm, grind up behind her, get in her face and ask her why she 'No want sexy sexy?' Pester her like this all night, ALL NIGHT. And then ALL DAY.. Then ALL NIGHT again. For days. For weeks. Pester her for months. For years. Forever. No matter how long it takes, you just pester her and pester her and pester her and no matter how many times she says Fuck Off You Nasty Little Prick, if you keep doing it forever and ever then eventually, if you persevere, she will turn around and sleep with you.'
But other than that it was a good night! Then today I actually queued up to get into a museum. To see a Manet exhibition. I know, I know- my wide range of leisure activities is astounding.
*BUT I have to be cunning with the cereal from now on, as the mum has started buying all the kids their own boxes of cereal, because they all wanted something different apparently, and the other day the little boy looked in his box and said 'Somebody eat my cereal!' because his is the most chocolately and the nicest and I have been running into the kitchen and eating little cups of it thoughout the day whenever he goes to the toilet. I'm starting to think that the mum isn't spoiling her children (as much); maybe this is her way of proving I am a Sneaky Cereal Binger.