Unfranced

Sacre bleu it has been quite a long time (well it hasn’t really has it I’m being a drama queen) as time seems to drag here. Besides going back to saafampton for a week to ambush the housemates with a full-head pig mask and getting clobbered startledly like an unexpected piñata, I haven’t really been up to much on this side of the channel. I bought a ‘cocktail de legumes’ the other day at the supermarket instead of the old multifruits mélange; a rampant amalgamation of tomatoes, carrots, yellow pepper, beetroot, cucumber and ONION. Curiosity destroyed the cat, I don’t think my tastebuds have forgiven me yet, although in hindsight if I’d just heated it up it probably would just have been soup. Will I ever learn to stop trying new things? It remains to be seen.

I honestly can’t remember anything noteworthy about France since the last post (except LOSING THE RUGBY) so I won’t try. When I got to London at 1am though I planned to mull around at the 24h McDonalds in Victoria Station (which I had wisely presearched) until my 5.30am train from Waterloo – only to discover that stations close between 1 and 3am. Shivering and oozing mucus and tears in a pussylike manner round Westminster with only the unsympathetic bundles of homelessness for company, I contemplated inhabiting a night bus to Tooting Bec for a few hours or trying my luck being the little spoon of one of the destitute bundles. I wandered lonely as a clood until I saw a sign that almost made me religious: 24h Accident and Emergency.  And that is how I spent the night for free in central London at St Thomas’ Hospital, damn did I feel like a smug bitch.

Oh also in France I went to Nice which was agreeable and saw a non-existent carnival and ate a chickpea pancake. It’s sunny here too nerrnerrnerrr. Time for Chinese revision, my noodle is feeling dim sum.

(… sorry)