Monday, 24 September 2012

Goodbyes and Birthdays: Part 2

'Part 2?' I hear you scoff in disbelief...

Look, sometimes I like to serialise my social life. I'm sure there's some dickheady things that you do, too. Just humour me please, and keep reading.

I think I got up to the point where the police rudely interrupted Cece's party. As we were trying to clear everyone out, four complete strangers walked in.

"Excuse me!" said Cece, outraged, "Who the fuck are you?"
"We're friends of Cecile." they said.
"Who the fuck is Cecile?"

Cecile turned out to be a friend of a friend, who had been there all night, so we let the four strangers stay at the party- it was ending soon, anyway.

Everyone quickly finished the leftover alcohol (ok, so all the English people finished the alcohol... I overheard a French girl say 'You can tell who is English and who is French!') before congregating on the street outside. A few people decided that this would be a good time to go home and the rest of us decided to go to Andy Wahloo which was, up until last Saturday, my new favourite bar in Paris. Now I can never go back there again, and I shall tell you for why...

Me and Olivia were the first to arrive and the woman on the door told us it was too late to let anyone else in. Fine. Then the four strangers who had turned up at the end of the party- claiming to be friends of the mysterious Cecile- walked straight into the bar!

Outrageous.

The four gate-crashers were all French, and I was convinced that the cold-hearted trollop (for that is what she was) on the door had decided not to let me and Olivia in simply because she'd guessed we were English. But then everyone else from the party arrived- most of them Parisians- and the answer was still a very cold and dismissive non.

We stood in the street outside, deciding where to go next, and the bouncer actually shushed us. Olivia said to him in indignation:

"I'm not going in your bar, so you can't shush me!"

She had a good point- you can't order about random people in the street who have nothing to do with your stupid bar. (Ok, it's not stupid- it's really, really cool and I like it a lot, but I will never go back. I have my PRIDE, you know.) As we walked away, he followed us up the street a little bit- how annoying. I resolved to say something really Cutting and Clever to him. He stopped just ahead of me and as I went past him he put his finger to his lips and shushed right in my face.

"Shut up." I snapped.

Brilliant, excellent- I'm sure he's still reeling a week later from my very cleverly constructed insult...

From Andy Wahloo we trudged to another bar/club that one of the French people had suggested because they said it was within walked distance. I have no idea what it was called, but it doesn't matter because I don't think I'll be wanting to go there again. We had a good time there, but it was just like one of those cave clubs you can find dotted around Chatelet or Rue de Princesse- there was commercial music pumping and a crowded, sweaty dance floor down in the cave. Our large group kind of got split up and some people went missing, but thankfully I managed to stay with a few people, because I didn't have my phone with me and I had no idea where we were.

The rumour is that Olivia caught me trying to leave the club with a very questionable young man. Apparently, the bouncer wouldn't let me leave, saying I was too drunk and that he didn't trust the guy I was with...

This is a SLANDEROUS LIE.

However, if it was true (which it is most definitely not)- it is horrifying. And if it was true (I already told you though, it isn't true)- I would certainly have to take a long, hard look at myself and promise not to drink so much in the future. For all the advice I love dishing out to young au pairs- telling them to be careful and to look after themselves in Paris- I am the biggest bloody idiot going when it comes to going out and being sensible. But I solemnly swear to stop compromising my safety with unnecessarily large amounts of alcohol. On Saturday night I almost got stabbed on the night bus, but I will tell you more about that later...

Cece's director, two of his friends from England and I got a taxi back to Cece's apartment. Olivia and Katy were supposed to follow us in another cab. In the taxi, Cece's friend Anna suddenly realised that we didn't have a key and she didn't think that Olivia and Katy would be able to get a cab for a while, so she made our taxi stop at a bar- she thought we could wait for Olivia and Katy there. I could see a flawed logic in this plan, but I was too drunk to argue, which is why, at 5 in the morning, I found myself eating burger and fries, listening to Anna and the director discuss Islam... or something.

Me and Cece's other friend Emer, who was as drunk as me, kept looking at each other across the table and giggling, because we had no idea what was going on. Eventutally we walked back to Cece's apartment to find the door wide open...

There was nobody in.

We tried calling everyone, but nobody picked up. I decided this was enough to warrant a full-on hysterical crying fit and had to be put to bed by Anna.

In the morning, I woke up to Emer hurriedly putting her make-up on in the mirror by the side of the bed- she had an hour before her Eurostar left and was still a bit drunk. (I found out later that she made it, though. Phew.) Me and Anna had fallen asleep fully-clothed, me covered in mascara from where I'd been resting my head in my arm and sobbing- and this is when I discovered that I had a huge hole in the knee of my Cheryl Cole pants. Very upsetting.

Cece had been asleep in his bed, the whole time that we were stumbling about the living room trying to call him. He said he'd also gone for a burger and fries with his friend Jo, and we figured out we must have been sat in the same restaurant at the same time. Olivia and Katy and gone to Olivia's, after returning briefly to Cece's flat and discovering that nobody else had arrived.

The next day I felt vaguely panicked in case Olivia left her flat, because all my stuff was at her's, including my phone and my keys. I got Cece to call her and I heard him explaining how he had found 'a little gypsy girl' wandering about his apartment.

"She says she belongs to you."

Olivia said he could send me to her place, as long as I picked up McDonald's on the way.

Me, Katy and Olivia had such a lovely hangover day- we ate the McDonald's and watched four Harry Potter films, then we went for a planche and a beer in the evening, 'to get some fresh air.'

The next night me, Olivia and Cece went for a drink, which turned into a full-on, disgusting binge on red wine. I tried to break into the carousel at Hotel de Ville and we stopped everyone on the street to get in a photo with us. We got back to Cece's and spent an hour filming ourselves rapping and singing, then taking pictures and putting them on Twitter.

I know, I know.

We're bad nobheads.

Tuesday was Olivia's Last Supper. It started to sink in that she was really leaving. She made onion soup, beef bourguignon and 'berrymasu' for pudding- a kind of tiramisu, made with raspberries and raspberry liqueur instead of coffee. Mmm. It was so nice. I performed a rap for Olivia, obviously. (Whenever anyone leaves now it is tradition to write them a rap.)

On Wednesday Olivia's mum and dad arrived- they helped her back and then drove all her stuff back to England for her while she got the Eurostar, she's got them wrapped around her little finger.

It still didn't feel like she was really leaving...

Then on Thursday we went out for one last drink. Of course one drink turned into a bottle at Cece's, just for old time's sake, but then it was time for bed and then it was 5am and Olivia was leaving to get the Eurostar...

Sob.

We've been friends for exactly a year, but it seems a lot longer.  That's Paris though, most people come for one year only and if you want to stay longer, you have to get used to saying goodbye.

But.

Amy was only here for a year, and Clare, and we are still as good friends as ever. Amy is coming to Paris actually, in less than a week! (Clare was supposed to come as well but she finally got a job 'in fashion' that she's been trying so hard to achieve ever since she left Paris over a year ago. Unfortunately it means she can't come to Paris as they won't give her time off, but I'm so proud of her for finally getting the job of her dreams! She can come to Paris anytime, but it has taken her so long to get a job, she can't give it up.)

I'm going to London in a couple of weeks for Olivia's birthday, but until then I'll just have to try and get by. She bought me some rose syrup as a leaving present so I can attempt to make her famous Rose and Lychee Martinis, and Kayt wants to try making Olivia's onion soup.

Pffft. It's hard though, when friends leave.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

3 comments:

  1. That's the most sentimental you've ever been.
    I miss you already.

    Olivia
    x

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. 3.51 am? I think the alcohol was making you be all lovely and missing me. Last time you said that woke up and instantly took it all back...

      Delete
  2. I take it all back.

    ReplyDelete