Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
It's Friday and I was born on a Friday, so I thought 'Friday's Child' would be a good title. But actually, that poem is a load of shit. 'Friday's child is loving and giving'?
That's not me at all: I would like to be more giving, but somehow the money I mentally put aside for Christmas and birthday presents each year gets spent on alcohol and mascara; as for being 'loving', last year I shocked the girls by telling them, rather herodoxically (thank you 'A Word A Day'), that I didn't believe in love.
Oh, don't look at me like that!
I'm not going to get into it now, but one day I'll sit down and tell you my theory about why love is not a Real Thing. It is a question of believing in it or not. I believe in fairies, you believe in love. Lets agree to disagree, ok?
Anyway, I am writing this blog post on a Friday afternoon when I should be in work. The mum of the family texted me earlier to say that they didn't need me today because they were going to their country house for the weekend, straight from school. Obviously, not being a fan of Work and his scary cousin Hard Graft, I am elated at having the afternoon off, but I am a little worried that the parents are going to turn around and say "We've realised that we don't actually need you at all. Bye."
I don't really do anything. This job is so different from my last job. A few months ago, when it was the summer holidays, I was working eleven hours a day (8.30 am to 7.30 pm), five days a week, looking after three children and sometimes more if they had friends over or cousins to stay. I had to get them up, give them breakfast, get them dressed, drag them out of the house to a museum or to the park, despite them screaming that they just wanted to stay at home watching TV all day... I had to cook lunch, clean up, do the laundry, force them all to shower, tidy their rooms, prepare the dinner, put the dishwasher on, play with them, unload the dishwasher...
And my new job? Yesterday I got to the family's house at quarter past six in the evening. The mum was there, the nanny was there and the grandad was there. I ran a bath for the eight year old and because she was doing her homework with her mum, I just stood in the bathroom awkwardly, fiddling with the temperature as intently as if I had been left in charge of controlling a nuclear cooling tower.
When the bath was ready, I called to the eight year old girl to get in it. After a bit of messing about she got in and I just knelt down besides the bath, trying to make jokes and chat to her. She ignored me and I felt like a bit of a Creepy Weirdo ot be honest, sat in silence while an eight year old girl I don't really know has a bath, also in silence.
After she got out, I told the eleven year old to get in. The eight year old wanted to play with her grandad, so I started preparing dinner which involved opening a box of sushi and getting three plates out. This was not me being lazy, the mum bought the sushi and told me to give it to the girls for dinner.
We ate the sushi. I put the plates in the dishwasher. The eight year old was being sulky so the mum sent her to her bedroom. I followed her in, as my main job is to keep her entertained, but she just lay on her bed in silence. I chatted to her in my special 'lets be reasonable and just have a laugh, I'm not arsed if you are naughty I just need to play with you so I can get paid' voice, but she didn't respond.
I tried to get her interested in some furry toys, but she wasn't interested. I sneezed eight times in a row, which normally makes her laugh, but she just buried herself further under the covers. In the end I sat at her desk and read one of her books, feeling very useless. The mum came in to the bedroom about eight pm and said "You may as well go, you can do nothing for her." So I left, after she had given me my eighty euros for the week, because she wasn't sure if she would see me today.
Hmm. As well as the eighty euros: they are giving me somewhere to live; they are doing a weekly food shop for me; and they are paying for half of my transport. In return I feel as though I am not doing a lot.
But. All this means that I have a lot of free time. I am not going to waste it, I am going to get a second job, just as soon as I find out what is going on with the drama teaching thing... Before I left for the summer it all seemed so certain and now that I am back in Paris, I get the feeling things might not work out like I planned.
Still, I made a payment on my credit card today! What a responsible adult I am! I am even contemplating not going out tonight, as tomorrow I am going to Rebel Rave Paris at Cabaret Sauvage and it is 23 euros and I'm sure the drinks will be about ten euros each, but Seth Troxler and Jamie Jones are playing and I've never been to Cabaret Sauvage before. It's in a really dodgy area of Paris but it's supposed to be really cool inside, apparently it's like a circus tent.
Tomorrow daytime it's the Techno Parade, which I went to last year but I don't know if I want to be out all day drinking and dancing to techno whilst trying not to get pickpocketed (there will be thousands of people there), and then be out all night, drinking and trying not to get attacked as I make my way to and from Porte de la Villette. I must be getting old.