Uh-oh, I feel happy and I don't know why. I want to sing 'Isn't She Lovely' by Stevie Wonder, ok yes, whilst in the mirror, but only because I happen to be sat opposite the mirror as I type. The worst thing about living in a chambre de bonne is that the walls are super thin, and so I can't sing. I miss singing, as loudly as possible, blasting air and noise out of my lungs. It doesn't matter what it sounds like- there's something so joyful about singing to yourself.
Yesterday I felt a similar urge to sing, but instead of Stevie Wonder, I wanted to sing 'I Dreamed a Dream' and 'On My Own' from Les Miserables, and sob at my own reflection. (I did for a little bit, but then I heard someone shuffling about down the corridor so I had to stop.)
Sometimes I feel like my little room is the stage for my very own operetta and the audience has no idea what's going on, but at the end they come out into the cold and as they button up their coats, one of the husbands says, chuckling: 'It was very melodramatic, wasn't it?' and all the wives titter. I don't know why but I've got a feeling they're getting the coach back to Whitby now. Perhaps they came on a trip organised by the Retirement Club...
I'm just talking nonsense now. There wasn't anything in particular I wanted to say. Look at this nice Klimt painting:
If kids ran wild in the woods, they would be terrifying. One false step and you're in Toddler Territory, you feel a tiny weight drop onto your shoulders from the treetops, a squeaky voice chattering gobbledygook and growling in your ear, while two more of the things leap onto your legs, pulling you down to the leaves so they can brush your hair and make you sing 'Incy Wincy Spider' with them until your run out of breath and pass out.
Later I'm going to make lasagne at my au pair job. I never, ever cook proper meals really, because I have to use all the stuff in the fridge, which mainly consists of ham, tomatoes and gnocci, but tonight I am determined. I hope I don't fuck it up.
Well, that was pointless.
The bilingual school asked me to think of some English songs that we can use next month for our Autumn Theme and I couldn't think of any, so I made one up:
Autumn is coming
The trees are bare
Leaves are falling everywhere
The leaves are brown
and orange and red
The leaves are falling on my head!
I know what you're thinking- why do I waste my time as an au pair when I could be making millions as a songwriter? Well... I do it for the kids. Actually, I might ask Lady Gaga if she wants to buy this one off me. Maybe she could wear a leaf-bikini for the video and she could borrow my cloak.
Oh My Goodness Gracious Me- my cloak! Cloak Season is almost upon us... Stand by for photos of me swishing around the streets of Paris in my floor-length, black velvet cloak.
Maybe that's why I'm happy today, because Autumn is here. I was getting sick of the half-arsed, not-hot-but-not-cold-enough-for-tights-weather.
That means it's officially Too Late to finish blogging about Ibiza, it was so long ago...
But if I don't blog about it now, I'll never remember. Ok, I'm going to make a brew and then JUST DO IT.