I've literally done nothing all afternoon. I went to my au pair job for a couple of hours this morning, then came back, ate some potatoes and had a nap. At the weekend, I resent anyone asking me to do anything that doesn't involve bucks fizz and cake, but in the end this morning wasn't too bad. I took the toddler to the park, we saw two tractors, then I came back and the dad gave me half a bottle of wine that he thought was disgustingly sweet. He let me taste a little bit first and I had to pretend that I really liked it, otherwise the mum and dad would know that I will drink anything for the sake of getting drunk.
So. I don't really know what to do with myself now. It's one of those days where you know you're going out but nobody has a solid plan, so you just hang around feeling anxious and vaguely wondering what you're going to wear.
Olivia left Paris for good yesterday. Well, not for good, because she says she belongs in France and Paris is her favourite French city, but at least for a few years. She has to finish her French degree and then she wants to go to drama school for three years.
The problem with Paris is- everybody leaves. Every year you say goodbye to your friends and you feel like the last one on a sinking ship. Next year I'm jumping overboard, I promise.
Anyway, our last weekend together was very fitting- we did ridiculous things and had such spiffing fun and frolics. On the Friday, Olivia's friend Katy arrived from England, so we took her to Chez Gladines. I haven't been for months and Olivia needed to go one last time. We've had so many fun nights in that restaurant, and so much lovely food. Well, actually, every single time we go we order the same thing. I know it sounds weird to always order the same thing, but once you've tried the pavé de canard avec sauce Roquefort, you will not be able to order anything else; because you know you'll regret missing out on the duck in Roquefort sauce.
It's so good. I could eat it twice a day for the rest of my life.
For once, we didn't get too drunk and went to bed quite early- we wanted to save ourselves for Cece's birthday the next night. When we got home we drank tea and sat on the bed reading the English magazine Katy had brought, taking it in turns to read things out. (Maybe we were a little bit drunk after all.)
Oh, and while I remember, when we were at the bar waiting for a table (you normally have to wait for at least an hour, but it's so worth it) some idiots at the bar overheard us speaking English and decided to try and talk to us in their appallingly bad English. (There's always someone at Chez Gladines. Once a man tried to order our wine for us and said to the barmen in French that we were English and so didn't know what we talking about... We were absolutely FUMING.) We replied in French and one of them corrected Olivia's French because she said 'tout le trois' instead of 'toute le trois.' The correction wouldn't have been so bad, but then he said 'C'est dur, le français .'
Absolute choc ice.
We didn't correct their shitty English. I would NEVER do that to a stranger, trying to make conversation with me. I've been feeling really angry recently about how people in Paris will either insist on speaking English to you, or be really rude about your French- they can fuck off. I've completely given up on my French now and I will NEVER care. I feel like nobody in Paris wants me to learn French anyway.
So, it was Cece's birthday on the Saturday. Me and Olivia were secretly worried that his Birthday Monster would be worse than mine, but for most of the day we managed to keep it docile. The only time the Birthday Monster got a bit aggressive was when we asked Cece what the plan was for the evening, so we just stopped asking. He was having a party and then we would go out... somewhere. Me and Olivia didn't bring up the fact that in Paris, it can be quite stressful trying to get into clubs, especially when there are thirty of you...
Some of his friends had come
over from England for the weekend and we started the celebrations with a
boozy lunch in the Marais. The next table was shooting us dirty looks
the entire time because we were being a little bit loud. I knew then it was
going to be an EXCELLENT weekend.
Me, Katy and Olivia went shopping before the party to buy Cece a sarong, because on Sundays he always says, 'I wish I had a sarong to wear right now.' Sarong but so right.
We also wrote him a rap and performed it at his party. We decided to tell everyone that if they were embarrassed for us, they could turn around and face the wall in until we'd finished. As it happens, when we arrived, the only people there were Cece and his friends from home, all of whom are actors, so they loved it and didn't see anything wrong with us giving him the gift of Performance.
The party soon filled up and it was really fun to be around so many different people. At first I felt a bit awkward, like I always do at parties with French people I don't know, but once everyone was drunk it was fine and we all mingled and danced. I even did my Cheryl Cole dance because Cece had requested that I wear my Cheryl Cole trousers, you know, the purple, Aztec-print ones*. In fact, everyone decided that as we were having such a good time, we should stay at Cece's apartment all night, rather than go out and risk the night going downhill.
But disaster struck. Somebody called the police. (It was midnight, on a Saturday night) The policeman said to Cece- 'Make your party somewhere else, next time you go to jail.'
Oh, now I have to get ready for tonight and I have nothing to wear. I will continue this tomorrow.
*Sadly I might have overdone the dancing because when I woke up the next
day, my Cheryl Cole pants had a big hole in the knee. I'm so sad. I secretly think a
lot of my friends will be glad though, because, while I think they are
amazing, let's just say... 'only a mother could love them'.