I've just found a weird French flyer that has 'Adrian' scrawled on the back of it, along with a mobile number. It wasn't for me, it was for Laura, who happens to have a boyfriend living in Belgium. (No, he's not Belgiumese, he's actually an English guy that she met whilst working in St Tropez this summer: he was flipping burgers on an English campsite, she was cleaning caravans- what could be more riveria chic than that?)
For a moment or two I had no idea where the flyer came from or who 'Adrian' was, but then I got Total Recall and the whole drunken night came flooding back to me. I have since made myself a cup of tea and I'm now getting settled in my bed, because I think this is going to be a long one...
Let's start at the beginning.
On Saturday I got up at 9.30am and went to my au pair job, in a foul mood because I resented working yet another Saturday. I took the eight year old and the baby to the park, but it had been raining and everything was wet, so the kids couldn't play on anything and we had to come home after half an hour, even though the mum told me not to come back for at least an hour.
When we got back I curled the eight year old's hair with my curling tongs. It took about forty minutes and when I'd finished, she said she didn't even like it. I know she secretly loved it though, because she couldn't stop marvelling at herself in the mirror; pouting and tossing her curls about.
After lunch her little mate came round and we did 'choreography' which basically means the eight year old and her friend sit on the bed and yell Danse! Danse! at me and I have to dance to the Black Eyed Peas while they watch me, smirking. I was dancing for them for about an hour, struggling to think of new moves and wondering how many more Katy Perry songs I could bear to listen to, when finally, finally the baby's nanny arrived about 3pm and she said I could go- I was freeee to start my weekend.
I had an hour long Disco Nap and then Olivia rang me to discuss The Plan for her birthday drinks that evening. I suggested Le China near Bastille- we went there last May and I fell in love with the place, it's a bit pricey but I thought it would be ok for everyone as we were celebrating and it is 'lush', as Kayt would say.
Plans made, I met up with Kayt and Laura for a quick trip to H&M. Laura was down for the night from Amiens, which is a couple of hours away from Paris. When she moved away from Paris last year I thought we would never get to see her, but she's come to Paris so many times since we all came back in September that it's like she still lives here.
Oh my God, I have just realised I am telling everybody about my life in the most excruiatingly minute detail, I'm so sorry, it's just that I have such a shit memory, and writing my blog really feels like I am writing in my diary- I want to capture everything for Future Reference... You know what? You could stop reading at any point, so don't be bitching about me being boring.
Anyway, we went on a little shopping trip... Since getting paid from the restaurant I have been uncharacteristically sensible about my spending habits, but I was feeling ever so slightly miserable on Saturday and as much as it pains me to admit me this about myself, Consuming makes me feel GOOD.
I bought a coat, a pair of shoes, some tights and some really cute pyjamas. Actually, it doesn't sound like a lot now that I've written it down and I really needed a new coat and it was 50% off. Just for Crystal, here is a picture of the shoes, but I'm not even sure if I like them anymore:
They look a bit cheap, but I was just desperate for some new 'going out shoes' and these are black, they're quite high and they're really comfortable. Tick, tick, tick. Nobody will look at them in dark clubs anyway. And they look really nice with my new camel coat...
After the shopping spree me, Kayt and Laura ate a disgusting amount of filled pasta and pesto in my little Cinderella room and got ready to go out. Well, me and Laura did, but Kayt had to go and babysit. I'd like to say that because I knew Laura was staying, I tidied and cleaned my room... but I didn't. It was and still is absolutely disgusting, I half feel sorry for Laura and I half don't really care, because I am a very Selfish and Lazy Girl.
Anyway, we went to Olivia's for pre-drinks and on the way I bought a bag of Haribo Ours d'or (gummy bears) because when I am feeling A Bit Miserable I can't walk past food I like and not CONSUME IT and I like Ours d'or A LOT. I thought everyone would be up for gummy bears, but I ended up eating almost the entire bag by myself and I felt a bit sick. Also I drank quite a lot. We were at Olivia's remember, Ms Mixologist. She made us Espresso Martinis and Mojitos, plus there was a lot of wine.
There was also her mum, who was visiting from England and was lovely. She was drinking and chatting with us and Abby said it was weird drinking with somebody's mum, because French parents don't realise that their children drink to the extent that they do. She said her mum and dad think that she only drinks alchohol with meals! How weird is that? Last Wednesday afternoon me and Abby went out for 'a coffee' and we got a glass of wine instead which then turned into a bottle of wine back at mine... we were drunk and arguing about spaghetti carbonara before I bet her mum and dad had even sat down for their dinner.
I digress, a lot...
There was six of us that went out. We headed to Le China at about half eleven and it was absolutely rammed. We had to go downstairs in the club bit and they don't make all the nice cocktails down there. We waited for agesss to get served and I think me and Laura were the only ones who liked our cocktails. Maybe it was because they were too busy, but they just weren't nice. Last time we went I had one of the best cocktails I've ever had ('The Cointreaupolitan', made with fresh sage) and there was a really calm, elegant atmosphere, but it was just ghastly on Saturday night, simply ghastly.
I felt really guilty for bringing everyone there but honestly, it can be a really special place. I think the best time to go would be early on a Friday night, when it's quiet. Apparently the food is really, really good.
Anyway, we cut our losses and got on the metro to Le Truskel. I can't exactly remember why we decided to go there, but I do remember getting a ham and cheese crêpe on the journey... We also lost one of our number on the way there, as Abby decided to go home, I think she had uni work to do or something.
Le Truskel is basically a glorified 'celtic pub'/Indie club. It's a bit scrubby but it's fun.
HOWEVER. We did get approached by a lot of horrible, horrible men. It started at the bar when I was pinning up my hair, a man wearing a Pretentious Scarf pointed at me and said: "Why do you put your hair in shape? Nobody cares! It's so late!"
I had no fucking idea what he was talking about, so Julia asked him if he wanted her to translate for him and he got all huffy.
"I lived in London for six months, I speak fluent English!"
Yep, ok, I'll just continue to put my hair in shape then...
After Prententious Scarf Man, we got hounded by a whole gang of Horrible Men at once who were all mates with each other. Maybe they met at a Woman Abusing Conference. By this point, I was at that stage of Drunkeness where I decide I must lie about my Ethnic Origins and I told everyone we were Swedish so that they wouldn't try and talk English to us. We quickly tried to give outselves 'Swedish names' but we only managed Ulrika and Erika before we ran out of ideas. After a lot of gibberish talking (which is an Excellent way to convince drunk people you are Swedish or Greek, I have done it a lot in Paris and I would highly reccommend it if people won't leave you alone because they want to speak English to you) we finally got rid of the Horrible Men, only to be approached by a gang of Not As Horrible Men.
These men had heard us yelling and hollering so they knew we spoke English, but we just wouldn't admit it. We decided to all give ourselves different nationalities, I don't remember most of them but Julia was a Russian girl called Natasha and I was, obviously, a Romany Traveller called Esme. The brilliant part of the plan was that we pretended I was ashamed of my real name, which was Esmerelda, because it was so obviously Romany Traveller, so I made everyone call me Esme and not tell anyone I was a Romany Traveller, but of course they let the cat out of the bag...
Anyway, it all gets a bit hazy. Everyone left to go for a smoke and I kept the table. One of the Not-So Horrible Men actually turned out to be pretty Horrible and because I wasn't touching his arm whilst laughing coquettishly in his face and saying things like 'Ha ha that is so charming', he started to say things like "All your friends have a sense of humour, you have no sense of humour. You are horrible, men will be horrible to you, you deserve it." Obviously I didn't understand a word he was saying because he was talking in English and Esme only speaks Romanian, but his friends were really embarrassed and they dragged him away.
I went downstairs to wait for the girls and lo and behold, Pretentious Scarf Man popped up out of whatever arsehole he'd been lurking about in, wanting to apologise but also to try and make me look like a dick at the same time, in that way that men do. "You over-reacted, I was only being friendly, I'm sorry." I am sounding like a real man-hater in this post... oh well.
After the girls had finished their fags in the disgusting, windowless 'smoking room', we moved onto the dance floor. It was very crowded and a lot of people were pushing into each other and knocking drinks over. One guy barged into Olivia and knocked her drink all over her, so in retalliation and annoyance she threw her shot at him. Unfortunately it went directly into his eye and he Flipped Out. There was a lot of shuffling around, trying to remain in the middle of him and Olivia and then thankfully he stalked off somewhere, rubbing his eye and making a big deal out of nothing.
Come on you aggy bastard, some people do shots through their eye on a regular basis, we've basically given you a shot for free!
After the Drama we had some good dancing times and then, somehow, we appeared to have made friends with a group of Not Weird Men, one of whom kept showing me photos of his wife and his little boy, so there was definitely a refreshing lack of the threatening/sinister behaviour that I've come to associate with the lovely gentlemen of Paris.
The club closed. We were outside talking to the three Not Weird Men and then suddenly ShotEye pounced on us from the shadows, shouting at Olivia and generally being an Aggy Bastard. Olivia said to him very seriously "Who cut your hair? I'll get them for you." I had never heard that one before Olivia said it and now it's one of my favourite Scouse sayings. (It means you have shit hair, he did have quite shit hair.)
The Not Weird Men, plus their Not Weird Female Friend, tried to intervene and before I knew what was happening, we were all walking back to a party at a random apartment which was 'just around the corner'. ShotEye followed us for quite a long way and we had to keep stopping and yelling at him. We were all venting our man-hating anger on him and eventually he skulked off with his shit hair.
The next thing I can remember is... creeping through a dark courtyard filled with flowers. I can remember whispering "Whose are all these flowers?"
I have a really weird impression of the building and the feeling of the place- it seems like I'm looking back at an old photo, or it could be a faded scene from one of my earliest memories, those moments you can't really remember but you can recall the feeling of them.
The courtyard was filled with pots and troughs of flowers and then we walked into a tiled hallway that was also filled with flowers. We were led up a narrow, winding staircase and there were pots of flowers on each step for the first couple of flights of stairs and then they gradually disappeared. I can't remember what flowers they were.
I'm so tired all of a sudden, I feel sick, I'm going to finish this tomorrow afternoon. Good night!