Well well well.
This will be my last blog post from Paris for a while... for four weeks to be exact, I'm going home to England tomorrow and I can't FUCKING WAIT and then I am flying back (straight from Ibiza, baby) on September 3rd.
Oh My Goodness- I can't believe I will be England this time tomorrow... I am so excited that I have the horrible feeling I am going to die before I get there, you know when you are looking forward to something so much that you can't actually believe it's going to happen?
Me and Georgie spent today sunbathing by the Seine, they've turned it into a beach with sand and deck chairs and bars... I never thought in a million years that I would be able to sit in Paris in my bikini without being murdered by outraged, conservatively dressed Parisiens... I guess it's possible because all the Parisiens have made their annual exodus and the only people left in the city are tourists, who don't know any better, and poor people, who can't afford to swan off to the South of France for the whole of August. At least they can make do with an artificial beach on the banks of the dirty river.
Wow. Has it really been a year? I wanted to write a really profound, reflective goodbye piece but...
I can't be arsed.
And anyway, I'm back in four weeks! To do the whole au pair experience again (I know, I know, what am I thinking?) and here's the exciting news that I can't remember if I told you about or not, but I am also going to be teaching drama as well, in English, to French kids.
Paris, sweetheart, you've been good to me. I'm sorry for vomiting on your lovely clean streets, I'm sorry for disturbing the peace with my horrible, drunken ways, I'm sorry for walking around looking like a scruff, I promise to wash more often next year.
Thank you for the music, even if it took me approximately five months to find where the rave was at... (By the way, you should have a word with the bouncers at Social Club because they are Proper Bad Nobheads.)
Thank you for the sunsets and the sunrises, thank you for the friends I have found here.
Thank you in a way, to Family Thrift as well: if you hadn't tricked me into coming to Paris to live in your scratty house and eat grated carrot for dinner; I never would have got the job I eventually found and I never would have met those girls in the park who at first called me the Running Nanny, before they got to know to me and before I latched on to them like a paranoid, long-haired mollusc. I don't think they will ever get rid of me.
I'd like to say a big thank you to the male population of Paris- you have never failed to amaze me with your Insane Mental Ways, I beg of you to stay away from me next year, or at least refrain from saying to me 'is your daddy hairy like me' during You Know What.