Thursday, 9 February 2012

The Man in the White Furry Hat

Guess what?? Julia has very kindly lent me her old MacBook to use until I get my laptop fixed!! She doesn't use it anymore because some of the keys don't work, but with the on-screen keyboard, and a bit of patience, it works perfectly. Yey! I can write blog posts and watch animal porn again! : ) 

But before I dash off to watch 'Two Slags and an Armadillo', I need to run you up to speed- we've got so much to catch up on darlings! Shall we start with last Friday night? 

So. Julia invited me to a 'secret party' somewhere near Bastille... someone had told her flat-mate Eduardo that we had to wait on a certain street corner and look out for a man in a furry white hat who would lead us to the party, which was five euros entry but then an open bar, apparently... A Foolproof Plan if ever there was one. 

I agreed to meet Julia, and Eduardo on the RER, a plan that could have so easily gone to shit if I didn't time it right. I was planning on setting off early just to be on the safe side, but as I was getting ready to leave something Rather Alarming happened... 

I was sat on my bed eating chocolate and thinking about how many pairs of tights I could get away with wearing without looking like that woman who has One Giant Leg, (in the end I went for one pair of tights, with leggings over the top), when I felt something sharp and bitty in the milk chocolate I was munching. I didn't think much of it until I'd finished my chocolate and I started choking on something. I reached into my mouth and pulled out the offending 'bit of Mystery' and held it up to the light. It was a shard of tooth. 

Then I realised that I could feel more of these little shards nestled like knives between my gums and the soft fleshy thing that your tongue is attached to... you know, the bit that looks like an oyster. I noticed that one of my teeth felt really sharp and weird. I was pretty sure it was the same tooth that has recently developed a massive cavity (I've just been politely ignoring it, because I haven't got a dentist in either France or England). I looked in the mirror to discover that the hole had gone... because the half of the tooth that the hole was in had crumbled away. 

So that was slightly worrying, but I'll allow myself to panic when the other half falls out... 

I didn't want to mess up the RER plan, so I put the shards of tooth under my pillow for the Tooth Fairy and hurried to the metro station.
I got to Charles de Gaulle just before Julia and Eduardo's RER passed through, so it was all good, apart from the fact that half my tooth had crumbled away for No Reason.

Eduardo didn't tell us the somewhat suspicious plan until we got to Bastille At first I thought the whole thing was terribly exciting and very 'Alice and Wonderland', but after standing around in the freezing cold for what felt like an Age, it seemed less like an adventure and more like a Cruel Joke. 

"There is no man in a white furry hat, is there?" I concluded, after we'd been waiting for over an hour.  

But then a couple of other people showed up and started hanging around near us, so we got chatting and it transpired that they were also going to the 'secret party'.  Then, just as the blood started freezing in my veins, a scrawny man with two black eyes showed up, wearing a white furry hat. 

After some hesitation, we followed him round the corner to a quiet street and the Man in the White Furry Hat led us to a boarded up building. He swiped a key against something hidden in the shadows and one of the graffitied boards swung open, revealing a dark staircase... 

The Man in the White Furry Hat lit his lighter to guide us up the stairs, but apart from his little flame the building was so dark that I couldn't even see the person in front of me.

I heard Julia whisper somewhere just behind me: 

"I hope someone is not going to take our kidneys."  

When we reached the top of the stairs, I expected to find a heavy door, leading into a sound-proofed room or something, but instead there was just more darkness and nervous, hushed silence. Beneath my feet I could feel broken beams and chunks of cement and I had to get my phone out to cast a little light over the hazardous terrain we were navigating blindly. 

As I moved my phone about in the damp gloom, the light showed enough to tell us that we were in a building that looked as though it was one collapsed ceiling away from being demolished.

The Man in the Furry Hat led us up some stairs, then down some stairs and eventually we arrived in a corridor that was filled with people. It was still pitch black, but by the light of my phone I could make out a bouncer-type man. We gave him our five euros and he stepped aside... 


At the bottom of yet another dark staircase made out of crumbling cement, there were three large basement rooms, filled with people sitting on chairs or stood around chatting in groups. It was very tame. The 'sound system' was a pair of iPod speakers resting on a pile of books. Oh yeah, let me tell you about the books. 


Against one wall were stacked hundreds of books, all brand new and wrapped in cellophane. It was so weird. I picked one of the books up to have a look but the title was in Hebrew... I wonder why someone was keeping hundreds of new books in a derelict basement? I wonder if it was the same person who had the bright idea of charging people five euros to stand shivering in an abandonded building, drinking cheap beer and listening to someobody's shit speakers? 

Anyway, we drank as much as we could before the free wine and beer ran out and we ended up having a Good Time. Towards the end we got chatting to a group of fairly normal French men and they invited me, Julia and Eduardo back to theirs. As the 'party' finished at 4am and we'd only arrived at 2, we thought 'Why not?' 

However, when we got to the 'studio' (it was kind of like my Cinderella Room, but three times the size and with a balcony) we realised that although it was definitely 'after', it wasn't a party. We called a taxi home and as we left one of the French guys, who Julia had said was being a dickhead all night but I hadn't really noticed because he was speaking in French, called me a 'stupid cow' or a 'fat cow', I can't remember which.

Julia said they were a bit mad at me because I'd been chatting to them all night and then hadn't kissed them goodbye. I was really mad and wanted to say something cutting to him, but unfortunately I'm not a very sharp girl, so instead I yelled at him bluntly:

"Watch your fucking mouth!"

I was triumphant. He looked at me in shocked silence. Then everyone asked me what I meant, so I spent five minutes trying to mime watching one's own mouth and then gave up, my empty threat hanging in the air like silly string behind me. 

I got in about half five and stayed awake for about an hour, bawling my eyes out for No Reason Whatsoever. I watching myself in the mirror the whole time, the ex-drama student in me observing how my mascara really did stream down the contours of my face, just like in a film. Oh I'm very vain, aren't I? And dramatic. There was nothing at all the matter with me, but I indulged in such a hysterical crying fit that you'd think I'd just been dumped at the alter by my childhood sweetheart, Edgar, because he's galloped off on a horse with my lady in waiting, Ethal. Beautiful Ethal. Such sparkling wit and rumoured sexual prowess she possesses... It was inevitable really. I hope that horse throws Ethal and Edgar to the hard ground. No, I take that back! I wish them love and happiness! (Even imaginary ill will can harm your karma.)

Anyway, it's taken me about three years to write this post, the on-screen keyboard isn't as quick as I'd first thought...


  1. You're welcome to come to mine for a cup of tea and to write your blog anytime you like love.

    Liv x

  2. Thanks I will definitely take you up on that!

  3. I know this shouldn't make me happy but: I'm SO GLAD I'm not the only one who has so much trouble with French men! They are all so rude... I know that British boys get off their faces and act like arses but at least they're funny most of the time :|
    Do you think they're this rude to French girls? Or just English-speaking ones?

    1. I don't know what it is, but my French girlfriends tell me it is the same for them to, it's not French men though... it's Parisien men! Thanks for commenting, even more thanks for reading and stay away from rude horrible men xxx