It's one of those restless nights, warm air and city sounds floating through my open window. Out there, evening is fading in on the city and I'm just pacing round my room, listening to spacey remixes of old RnB songs.
This is exactly what I used to do when I was thirteen, listening to music (back then I used to have 'Say My Name' by Destiny's Child on repeat and now it's the Cyril Hahn remix), gazing out of the window, wondering when my life was going to start...
What did I think was going to happen?
I really felt like blogging tonight. Earlier I was looking out of the window at the sun setting over Paris (the tiny bit I can see from my skylight, anyway) and I had the sensation that I was somewhere else remembering the moment... then I suddenly pictured myself in my old bedroom in Fallowfield, looking out of the window late at night, in summer, listening to music and feeling exactly the same.
I know this post seems a bit melancholy and pointless, but I actually have some disturbing news to share- my mum is getting a puppy. Anyone who knows me will understand my horror at this news. (Remember when I was indecently assaulted by a mute Labrador?) I should have seen it coming... When I was home over the summer, my mum kept cooing over dogs we'd see in the street and gushing about this thing called 'Doggy Daycare' that her friends send their dogs to. I didn't think she'd ever actually get one- my stepdad and my mum are at work all day and they have a cat...
Last night she sent me a photo of a vicious-looking dog saying: 'Look at the puppy we're getting! She'll get a lot bigger!'
Straight away I asked her if she knew what breed it was, because it looked like one of those illegal breeds to me...
'Are you kidding?' she messaged me back.
I then told her that she'll have to train it not to bite me and she said, 'Don't worry, I'll train it and she'll love you!'
I don't want the dog to love me, I want it to not tear half my face off. (Last week I read yet ANOTHER story of how an evil dog in Britain ripped into a toddler, scarring the child for life.)
Just to give you some idea of what I'm talking about, this is the type of puppy my mum is getting:
They look savage and you can already see how powerful their front legs and jaws will be when they're fully-grown. Apparently the breed is called Rhodesian Ridgeback (sounds suspiciously like a dragon's name to me).
I was thinking about maybe living at my mum's over the summer while I sort out my next move after Paris (argh) but there's no way I'm staying there now: yes I might gain money because I won't be paying expensive London rent; but I might lose a limb.
I was also thinking it would be nice to live in Manchester for a bit because Amy has just moved there with her boyfriend and Kayt will be moving there to live with her boyfriend when she leaves Paris this summer... but I was forgetting that Any Northern Mill Town is bloody miles away from the city centre.
Is it definitely London next? Why do I keep thinking about Marseille, or somewhere in Spain?
If I go back to England there's no way I can live with my mum. Before you know it I'll be gazing out of the window- except I'll be looking at cows instead of Parisian rooftops- listening to nostalgic tunes and wondering when my life is going to start...