Well, today we drove to a mystical place called Ruislip (prounounced Rye-Slip) to see the Grand High Wrinklie, also known as Old Gran (my great-gran). It took 4 hours to get there. No, actually it took 6. I can't count. We took 'the scenic route' there. As usual. Always with the scenic route. From about Milton Keynes, things became humourous. People started saying things funny. Water becomes "waw-uh". I forget what else. I became suspicious of everyone. Especially the elderly. They seemed most likely to wield knives. We stopped at a Little Chef. I'll be honest; it was awful. There was a garage attached to it, which said "Bonjour" on it. I assumed that this was a nod at their nearest international neighbours, the French, who are at least 200miles away. It makes me wonder, do they have "Och aye the noo" on petrol stations up in the North East? Or, something crazy and Norwegian. Most odd. It was just generically boring.
(I also understand that today I did not go to the South, I started this nearly a fortnight ago. I thought I had better publish it. Soz 'ard)
Monday 27 July 2009
Friday 24 July 2009
Why would I want to get into Dame Judi Dench's pants?!
Well, things have been uneventful of late. Again. Having said that, I have sent off 3 old phones to envirophone.com, so that they send me some monies back. Admittedly, it'll only be about £50, but still, that's £50 more than I have.
On Friday, my sister and I did something most odd. We baked together. Well, I baked more, but she did stuff. Like cutting the butter into cubes, and putting the flour away. We made scones and then we made cornflake buns with sultanas in. I've not had a cornflake bun yet, but the scones are actually delicious.
Tomorrow involves an epic trek to London and back, well to Ruislip to be precise, to see my gran. Mum thinks my gran doesn't have long left (she is 93!), and as such we should all go visit her. I'm not complaining, I'm just preparing for the "oooh look at that fat!" from her. Ahh, the elderly.
On Friday, my sister and I did something most odd. We baked together. Well, I baked more, but she did stuff. Like cutting the butter into cubes, and putting the flour away. We made scones and then we made cornflake buns with sultanas in. I've not had a cornflake bun yet, but the scones are actually delicious.
Tomorrow involves an epic trek to London and back, well to Ruislip to be precise, to see my gran. Mum thinks my gran doesn't have long left (she is 93!), and as such we should all go visit her. I'm not complaining, I'm just preparing for the "oooh look at that fat!" from her. Ahh, the elderly.
Tuesday 21 July 2009
Marticito: nm a tiny Martin.
Well, my love for Spanish has been rekindled recently. I watched .rec, a Spanish horror film. It is actually amazing. It is filmed in the same style as the Blair Witch Project, but is about an apartment block that is cordoned off by the government cos of a virus outbreak. It's actually amazing. And, I got alot out of it language-wise. All is good :)
In other news, I returned to fair Lancaster on Sunday, for the anniversary of Tom-wa's birth. It was most pleasant. We watched a film about an elderly Elvis stopping an evil Egyptian mummy that was sucking people's souls out through their anus'. It was surprisingly good. I helped Holly attempt to sort their old house out too, which was bad. It felt really sad leaving Lancaster, again. Having said that, I have attempted to organise a Lancaster going-out party.
Not alot has happened recently, mostly taxiing the mother and sister around to various places. The nail place. Xscape. The hair place. Xscape. The hospital. Xscape. Getting annoyed of it now. We (that is to say Becca, Clare, Ruth, Craig and myself) went to see "The Proposal" the other day. It was classic rom-com. The premise is simple: Sandra Bullock needs to mary Ryan Reynolds to stay in the country (like America would deport a Canadian). They go to his parents house. Hilarity ensues. What do we think happens? Rom-com law specifically states that they must fall in love. And, they do. It's all very generic. Personally, I think that the audience laughed more than the film was worth, and some people (*coughs* Craig and Clare) cried more than it was worth. But, it was still a pleasant-enough film.
The parents went away somewhere yesterday. My dad was going to see trains, and thought he'd drag the mother along. She doesn't know what she's let herself in for. As such, today's plan is to make scones, and to attempt to make some clusters (cornflakes and raisins coated in chocolate), with the sister. After we have been to the supermarché, obviously. That is all for now. I think. I don't know anymore.
In other news, I returned to fair Lancaster on Sunday, for the anniversary of Tom-wa's birth. It was most pleasant. We watched a film about an elderly Elvis stopping an evil Egyptian mummy that was sucking people's souls out through their anus'. It was surprisingly good. I helped Holly attempt to sort their old house out too, which was bad. It felt really sad leaving Lancaster, again. Having said that, I have attempted to organise a Lancaster going-out party.
Not alot has happened recently, mostly taxiing the mother and sister around to various places. The nail place. Xscape. The hair place. Xscape. The hospital. Xscape. Getting annoyed of it now. We (that is to say Becca, Clare, Ruth, Craig and myself) went to see "The Proposal" the other day. It was classic rom-com. The premise is simple: Sandra Bullock needs to mary Ryan Reynolds to stay in the country (like America would deport a Canadian). They go to his parents house. Hilarity ensues. What do we think happens? Rom-com law specifically states that they must fall in love. And, they do. It's all very generic. Personally, I think that the audience laughed more than the film was worth, and some people (*coughs* Craig and Clare) cried more than it was worth. But, it was still a pleasant-enough film.
The parents went away somewhere yesterday. My dad was going to see trains, and thought he'd drag the mother along. She doesn't know what she's let herself in for. As such, today's plan is to make scones, and to attempt to make some clusters (cornflakes and raisins coated in chocolate), with the sister. After we have been to the supermarché, obviously. That is all for now. I think. I don't know anymore.
Thursday 16 July 2009
Je suis en panne.
My car is broken. I don't know what is wrong with it. I just know that it refuses to start. It has plenty of petrol in it, so it's not that. It's not the battery either as the lights still light up. It just won't start, so my suspicions lead me to believe that it is the ignition. Update: my dad checked it, and he says it's the battery. I was wrong.
I got another email from the delightful "Gwenaelle" today. It seems there will be a "godfather scheme" whilst in Rennes. It's called "parrainage", which is the godfather scheme. I have been assigned 'Laura Floch' as my "parrain", which I looked up. It means "godfather". I will be a "filleul", which means "godson". There really is something wrong with France.
I got another email from the delightful "Gwenaelle" today. It seems there will be a "godfather scheme" whilst in Rennes. It's called "parrainage", which is the godfather scheme. I have been assigned 'Laura Floch' as my "parrain", which I looked up. It means "godfather". I will be a "filleul", which means "godson". There really is something wrong with France.
Wednesday 15 July 2009
Snape, Snape, Severus Snape.
Well, my Harry Potter crusade reached a climax today as I went to see it in the cinema. I was looking forward to it, and I don't quite feel that it was as good as I expected. Having said that, I have resumed my crusade against the books, and am currently storming my way through book five. The film misses alot out, but the fifth film is good.
Tomorrow it is my sister's "graduation". I shall explain this. In my old school, which is technically my sister's current school, at the end of each year, there is a "graduation" ceremony in which they hand out certificates to everyone based on a. how many merits they have got during the year; b. how well you've done in specific subjects. They also announce the "head boy" and "head girl" of the year group. My sister won it last year. So, as well as beating me in all her predicted grades, and all her actual grades, she is getting "head girl". I wanted "head boy" as a child, but never got it. Great. She is also singing a song. God knows how it gonna go, they have 10 forms to get through in 2 hours. It's gonna be a long afternoon, on uncomfy seats. Great.
Tomorrow it is my sister's "graduation". I shall explain this. In my old school, which is technically my sister's current school, at the end of each year, there is a "graduation" ceremony in which they hand out certificates to everyone based on a. how many merits they have got during the year; b. how well you've done in specific subjects. They also announce the "head boy" and "head girl" of the year group. My sister won it last year. So, as well as beating me in all her predicted grades, and all her actual grades, she is getting "head girl". I wanted "head boy" as a child, but never got it. Great. She is also singing a song. God knows how it gonna go, they have 10 forms to get through in 2 hours. It's gonna be a long afternoon, on uncomfy seats. Great.
Tuesday 14 July 2009
No será un sin-hogar!
Well, yesterday was fun. Jessica and I went to Cannon Hall Farm. We were going to go to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, but we got there, and it was a. full of children, b. full of the elderly and c. the carpark was full. So, we trundled off to Cannon Hall Farm. It is just a farm. With a stately-home attatched. Having said that, it was quite exciting. We paid our money, got our sticker (which wasn't of the pig, like it used to be as a child) and our animal feed. Cows. Cows are actually evil. As a child, you learn to never feed them again. "Mummy? Can I feed the cows?" you ask, as your hand is stretched out, ignoring the warning your mother is about to give. As she goes "Don't feed the cows, they have long tongues", you learn this for yourself. So much slaver. Naturally, I just settled on stroking the cows, something they hate, and as such, try to lick you with their massive cow tongues. We moved on to donkeys. Donkeys are lovely, and don't try to bite your fingers off as they eat the peculiar feed in your hand. Unlike some animals, namely goats. Twice I was bitten by bastard goats. Having said that, there were some really cute baby goats (we called them 'goatlings'), that Jess and I wanted to steal.
Today, I found out that I have got a place in 'una residencia' in Girona. This is good, but I'm unsure if it is cheap. I forget. Rebecca will know...
Today, I found out that I have got a place in 'una residencia' in Girona. This is good, but I'm unsure if it is cheap. I forget. Rebecca will know...
Monday 13 July 2009
Traffic Wardens, Liquorice and Windmills.
Well, today I had my first run-in (ever) with a traffic warden. At first I just thought it was an unusually short man with some sort of device, then I realised it must have been "Casual Monday" as he was a traffic warden. In shorts. I hope it absolutely buckets it down today. In Pontefract. I was dropping the mother off at the bus station so she could renew my sisters bus pass. After what I imagine to be 3minutes and 31 seconds, the warden came up to the window to remind me that I had 1mintue and 29 seconds remaining. At which I pointed out that my mother was on crutches. He then saw her emerging from the bus station, and fucked off. The woman is a legend. She scares traffic wardens away. Even 'casual' ones.
Yesterday was the epic Liquorice Festival in Pontefract. Epic is not the right word. I think the word I'm looking for is... shit. Yes. Shit is just the right word. I had never been to the Liquorice Festival before, and I can see why. It was just a series of stalls selling either liquorice, liquorice parafernalia (sp.) or crafty shit. Plus, for some unknown reason, there was an african choir thing on a stage. I'm unsure what they had to do with proceedings, but people clapped when they finished a song, so I assume people liked them. Or hated them, and were clapping them because they had finished. Either way.
The evening brought with it a trip to the cinema. Being 20, I now have lots of choices over what film I go to see. In fact, I can see anything I like. Having said that, we went to see Bruno. It was rather gay. In fact, there was more nakedness than Borat. But, it was funny nonetheless. Windmills, in the title of today's blogg, refers to Bruno. If you see it, you will understand.
Ps. Who put down "boring" in the boxes the other day? hmmmm?
Yesterday was the epic Liquorice Festival in Pontefract. Epic is not the right word. I think the word I'm looking for is... shit. Yes. Shit is just the right word. I had never been to the Liquorice Festival before, and I can see why. It was just a series of stalls selling either liquorice, liquorice parafernalia (sp.) or crafty shit. Plus, for some unknown reason, there was an african choir thing on a stage. I'm unsure what they had to do with proceedings, but people clapped when they finished a song, so I assume people liked them. Or hated them, and were clapping them because they had finished. Either way.
The evening brought with it a trip to the cinema. Being 20, I now have lots of choices over what film I go to see. In fact, I can see anything I like. Having said that, we went to see Bruno. It was rather gay. In fact, there was more nakedness than Borat. But, it was funny nonetheless. Windmills, in the title of today's blogg, refers to Bruno. If you see it, you will understand.
Ps. Who put down "boring" in the boxes the other day? hmmmm?
Saturday 11 July 2009
WTF?!
The trip to take my sister to her dance class was most odd. As usual, we got held up at the railway cross in' Lane. Waiting for the train to come, as per, took forever. When it passed, and the barrier lifted, a flood of men in pink came cycling through. I say flood, I mean 5. Me and my sister both chuckled, confusedly, and assumed that it must have been either the Tour de Featherstone, or Featherstone Gay Pride. Perhaps a mix of both. Either way, it explained the abating mob at the bottom of' Lane; complete with pitchforks and flaming torches. It was most odd.
Change is in order
Well, in case you haven't noticed, I have reformatted my blogg slightly. It looks more brown, and there are some odd boxes at the bottom of each entry. I think you should use them. I don't know why you should, but you should.
Do it!
In other news, it was the finale of Torchwood last night. It was actually TOO grim for my liking. Normally, I love grim episodes of Torchwood/Doctor Who, the ones where you spend time thinking "how will we get out of this one?!". But, this was too grim. There were several really sad, verge-of-tears, moments (as if the death of Ianto wasn't enough [on that point, join the group on Facebook: "Bring Ianto back you fools!"]). The ending wasn't very satisfactory. Too many people died, and it was just depressing. Having said that, it was most satisfactory when the Prime Minister got his comeuppance. Bastard.
The number of orange people in Featherstone is on the rise. Well, only mariginally. I wonder if there's a disease that makes you go orange; like jaundice, but orange, not yellow. Hmmm. Most disturbingly, I have seen an orange man around Featherstone. I think it's a man anyway. It's most androgenous.
Do it!
In other news, it was the finale of Torchwood last night. It was actually TOO grim for my liking. Normally, I love grim episodes of Torchwood/Doctor Who, the ones where you spend time thinking "how will we get out of this one?!". But, this was too grim. There were several really sad, verge-of-tears, moments (as if the death of Ianto wasn't enough [on that point, join the group on Facebook: "Bring Ianto back you fools!"]). The ending wasn't very satisfactory. Too many people died, and it was just depressing. Having said that, it was most satisfactory when the Prime Minister got his comeuppance. Bastard.
The number of orange people in Featherstone is on the rise. Well, only mariginally. I wonder if there's a disease that makes you go orange; like jaundice, but orange, not yellow. Hmmm. Most disturbingly, I have seen an orange man around Featherstone. I think it's a man anyway. It's most androgenous.
Friday 10 July 2009
Lols.
Every now and then, I stumble upon a humourous article which belittles our nearest European neighbours. Today is one of those days. I have copied and pasted it below. It's from the BBC. I hope this doesn't infringe copyright laws.
'Rude' French are worst tourists
The French are seen by hoteliers as the world's worst tourists
French tourists are the worst in the world, coming across as penny-pinching, rude and terrible at languages, according to a new survey.
The study by travel company Expedia asked 4,500 hotels worldwide to rank tourists on their behaviour.
Japanese tourists - seen as clean and tidy, polite, quiet and uncomplaining - came top for the third year running.
French travellers made amends on elegance - classed third - as well as for their discretion and cleanliness.
But the French were the least ready to try a new language, unlike US tourists who were most likely to swallow their pride and order a pizza, baguette or a paella in the local lingo.
WORLD'S BEST TOURISTS
Japan
Britain
Canada
Germany
Switzerland
Holland
Australia
Sweden
USA
Denmark
Source:Expedia.co.uk
US tourists also got top marks for generosity, as the biggest spenders and tippers.
But they fell short on other counts as the least tidy, the loudest, the worst complainers and the worst dressed.
Britons came second for their overall behaviour, politeness, quietness and even elegance - second for dress sense only to the Italians.
But in Europe, the British were seen by the hoteliers as the worst behaved.
Jonathan Cudworth, the head of product marketing at Expedia.co.uk, said: "Being voted the worst tourists in the world by our closest neighbours highlights the fact that the 'Brits Abroad' moniker is a label we still haven't managed to shrug off.
The Japanese came top for their politeness and cleanliness
"While we are in second place in the global best-tourist rankings, we clearly have a job to do to convince our European counterparts and those at home that we can be better behaved on holiday."
The model Japanese were followed by Canadians as the least likely to whinge when a trip goes wrong.
France's rivals for the world's "worst tourist" tag, Spaniards and Greeks, came near the bottom of the pack in almost every category.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8143780.stm - that's where I got it from :D
'Rude' French are worst tourists
The French are seen by hoteliers as the world's worst tourists
French tourists are the worst in the world, coming across as penny-pinching, rude and terrible at languages, according to a new survey.
The study by travel company Expedia asked 4,500 hotels worldwide to rank tourists on their behaviour.
Japanese tourists - seen as clean and tidy, polite, quiet and uncomplaining - came top for the third year running.
French travellers made amends on elegance - classed third - as well as for their discretion and cleanliness.
But the French were the least ready to try a new language, unlike US tourists who were most likely to swallow their pride and order a pizza, baguette or a paella in the local lingo.
WORLD'S BEST TOURISTS
Japan
Britain
Canada
Germany
Switzerland
Holland
Australia
Sweden
USA
Denmark
Source:Expedia.co.uk
US tourists also got top marks for generosity, as the biggest spenders and tippers.
But they fell short on other counts as the least tidy, the loudest, the worst complainers and the worst dressed.
Britons came second for their overall behaviour, politeness, quietness and even elegance - second for dress sense only to the Italians.
But in Europe, the British were seen by the hoteliers as the worst behaved.
Jonathan Cudworth, the head of product marketing at Expedia.co.uk, said: "Being voted the worst tourists in the world by our closest neighbours highlights the fact that the 'Brits Abroad' moniker is a label we still haven't managed to shrug off.
The Japanese came top for their politeness and cleanliness
"While we are in second place in the global best-tourist rankings, we clearly have a job to do to convince our European counterparts and those at home that we can be better behaved on holiday."
The model Japanese were followed by Canadians as the least likely to whinge when a trip goes wrong.
France's rivals for the world's "worst tourist" tag, Spaniards and Greeks, came near the bottom of the pack in almost every category.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8143780.stm - that's where I got it from :D
Mr Desponsey-Smythe?
Today, I took the mother to the hospital. It wasn't just any old hospital, oh no, it was a 'private hospital'. After a short journey to Methley (no, it's not full of Meth addicts. Well, not many), and a brief drive up a country lane, we arrived at the tiny hospital. It, naturally, was full of posh cars with private number plates. We proceded into the building, where it was just like a doctor's surgery. The only difference, and this is key, is that it was full of the upper middle-class. People with double-barrel surnames with accents that clearly weren't local. And an American enquiring how long we'd had private hospitals. Me and mother got glares, as we had accents. Surprisingly, she got seen on time, and we were in and out within half an hour. When I had my pot on my leg, I waited 2 hours before I got seen to have it taken off, then had to wait some time afterwards to see the doctor to check my knee, then had to hobble up to physio (and it's quite a trek at Pinders) to book an appointment. At this point I was told they'd ring me to make an appointment. I was most unimpressed.
Well, that has been my day so far. Perhaps I shall go out this evening. I am unsure yet. We shall see. If I do, it will be to Pontefract, and I may not return alive.
Well, that has been my day so far. Perhaps I shall go out this evening. I am unsure yet. We shall see. If I do, it will be to Pontefract, and I may not return alive.
Thursday 9 July 2009
*Warning: contains Torchwood spoilers*
Well, today I have read Harry Potter and the Philosopher's (Or Sorcerer's if you're stupid and can't comprehend what a philosopher is) Stone. All of it. I'm rather proud. Now I'm watching Psychoville. Something which is amazingly surreal. I strongly recommend it.
Also, IANTO IS DEAD! :( The bastard writers of Torchwood deemed it good TV to kill him off :( *Laments*
Also, IANTO IS DEAD! :( The bastard writers of Torchwood deemed it good TV to kill him off :( *Laments*
Bonfire anyone?
Well, as luck would have it, I managed to pass all my exams! 70 in Catalan (I expected nothing less), 66 in Euro (the one where I made up several lies about pensions and farming) 53 in 'The Roland' (honestly, I'm surprised it was that high) and 62 in French politics (another surprise.) This means: NO RESITS! And no excess work in the holidays! More importantly, this means I can burn all my revision notes! I shall ask the wrinkles if I can have a bonfire tonight. If I can't, I'll find someone to let me have a bonfire at theirs! (I'm sure that that "theirs" necessitates an apostrophe)
Back to Harry Potter now :D
Back to Harry Potter now :D
Judgement day...
... has been postponed.
Today is results day. No, no, not my HIV results (that was a joke by the way, I haven't had HIV tests), my exam results. Or rather, today would be results day, had student registry not decided to sneakily change the date to tomorrow, and not tell anyone about this. As I write this, it has just gone 8am. I got up 20 minutes ago. I'm most unimpressed. I was dreaming about getting them. Finding out I'd even got some 80s. I don't know how on earth I'd realistically get 80s, but nonetheless. It was most disordered actually, it just said "French : 80". I don't even know how that would work. Catalan wasn't even there.
I'm unsure if I blogged about our neighbours the other night, but I shall do so again. They have been arguing again. "I'm fucking sick of you", to be precise. It's all very exciting. They have been at this for months, ever since they moved in. Mother informs me they got married a few months ago. God knows why. They clearly never have any sex, and are always arguing. Oh, the 'no sex' theory, is basically that they're not getting any, so they both throw themselves into working on the garden. Pressure-washing their drive at 10 o'clock at night. Sweeping dirt onto our tiny little path. Losers.
Rumour has it, that it's just Student Registry cocking up. Results are today after all. We shall see.
Today is results day. No, no, not my HIV results (that was a joke by the way, I haven't had HIV tests), my exam results. Or rather, today would be results day, had student registry not decided to sneakily change the date to tomorrow, and not tell anyone about this. As I write this, it has just gone 8am. I got up 20 minutes ago. I'm most unimpressed. I was dreaming about getting them. Finding out I'd even got some 80s. I don't know how on earth I'd realistically get 80s, but nonetheless. It was most disordered actually, it just said "French : 80". I don't even know how that would work. Catalan wasn't even there.
I'm unsure if I blogged about our neighbours the other night, but I shall do so again. They have been arguing again. "I'm fucking sick of you", to be precise. It's all very exciting. They have been at this for months, ever since they moved in. Mother informs me they got married a few months ago. God knows why. They clearly never have any sex, and are always arguing. Oh, the 'no sex' theory, is basically that they're not getting any, so they both throw themselves into working on the garden. Pressure-washing their drive at 10 o'clock at night. Sweeping dirt onto our tiny little path. Losers.
Rumour has it, that it's just Student Registry cocking up. Results are today after all. We shall see.
Monday 6 July 2009
Ya gotta squeeze ev'ry penny...
When did American stop speaking recognisable English? I mean, take for example today's blogg title: when did "ya" replace "you"; when did "gotta" replace "have to"; and when did America start using pennies? At least let us keep our precious pennies.
Recently I've not been up to much... My level of poverty has become so great that I have finally got round to putting my bags of money into the bank. Silly
Natwest thought it a good idea to give me a credit card too. Morons. I have become my mother's taxi. Taxiing her to everywhere. The hairdressers/nail salon mainly. And her 'friends'.
I have lacked the urge to blogg recently. I don't know why. I still lack a job, so my day generally involves nothing. Watching 'Teachers' on DVD. It started off quite poor, but it improves. And is most humourous. I am also reading "The Long Walk" by a Polish man who escaped a Soviet labour camp. It's surprisingly good. I'm only reading it because Grampi told me to read it.
Yesterday was Michael Jackson's 'memorial service'. I won't lie: it was boring. Just people saying generically nice things, not mentioning the whole kiddy-fiddling incident (except one woman who reminded everyone of the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' thing). There was the odd song. It was most odd. Apparently they are introducing a bill to make him live forever. Or something like that. I just remember the woman going "for ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever."
In other news, Rennes have finally updated me on the 'accomodation' issue. It seems I shall not be homeless in Rennes. I will however, lack a 'chambre rénovée' and will be in a normal €127/month room, which is 3x3 big. I don't even know how big that is. I did some research and apparently my 'building' has access to a 'laverie' (laundrette) and a vending machine, amongst other amazing things. So, it seems that '5 Rue du Maine' will be my new home as of September. :) Je suis excited :)
Recently I've not been up to much... My level of poverty has become so great that I have finally got round to putting my bags of money into the bank. Silly
Natwest thought it a good idea to give me a credit card too. Morons. I have become my mother's taxi. Taxiing her to everywhere. The hairdressers/nail salon mainly. And her 'friends'.
I have lacked the urge to blogg recently. I don't know why. I still lack a job, so my day generally involves nothing. Watching 'Teachers' on DVD. It started off quite poor, but it improves. And is most humourous. I am also reading "The Long Walk" by a Polish man who escaped a Soviet labour camp. It's surprisingly good. I'm only reading it because Grampi told me to read it.
Yesterday was Michael Jackson's 'memorial service'. I won't lie: it was boring. Just people saying generically nice things, not mentioning the whole kiddy-fiddling incident (except one woman who reminded everyone of the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' thing). There was the odd song. It was most odd. Apparently they are introducing a bill to make him live forever. Or something like that. I just remember the woman going "for ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever."
In other news, Rennes have finally updated me on the 'accomodation' issue. It seems I shall not be homeless in Rennes. I will however, lack a 'chambre rénovée' and will be in a normal €127/month room, which is 3x3 big. I don't even know how big that is. I did some research and apparently my 'building' has access to a 'laverie' (laundrette) and a vending machine, amongst other amazing things. So, it seems that '5 Rue du Maine' will be my new home as of September. :) Je suis excited :)
Friday 3 July 2009
Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.
Well, today it has rained. Finally. But, now I miss the sun. I miss waking up on a morning and groaning because it's sunny. Again. I miss the stifling heat. But, I suppose I can't complain. It's clearing the air, and soon we'll be able to enjoy heat without humidity. And maybe, soon, sheep will fly.
Today, for those not in the know, is Friday. On my street, this means something suspicious happens. Number 8 receives alot of visitors. Visitors who park in neighbours driveways. It's most peculiar (Julia). I personally think it's some sort of Jehovah's thing, or some religious cult. My dad says it's just some old woman who cuts other old women's hair. Dad is probably right. Still, we can hope. One just pulled up, and parked in the middle of the road. Well, not in the middle of the road, but not mounting the kerb. It was lazy parking. I judged.
Yesterday, I got bored, so I asked Ruth if she fancied a trip to a park or something. It was agreed that we'd go to Pugney's, but then we decided to go to Bretton Hall Country Park, or the Yorkshire Sculpture Park as it's otherwise known. It was most pleasant, if incredibly hot.
My plan for today was to go to York, and to see Catherine and Davie, and to go to the Jorvik Viking Centre. Alas, my father has gone off for the day, and someone has to stay at home to look after Karen. Typical.
Today, for those not in the know, is Friday. On my street, this means something suspicious happens. Number 8 receives alot of visitors. Visitors who park in neighbours driveways. It's most peculiar (Julia). I personally think it's some sort of Jehovah's thing, or some religious cult. My dad says it's just some old woman who cuts other old women's hair. Dad is probably right. Still, we can hope. One just pulled up, and parked in the middle of the road. Well, not in the middle of the road, but not mounting the kerb. It was lazy parking. I judged.
Yesterday, I got bored, so I asked Ruth if she fancied a trip to a park or something. It was agreed that we'd go to Pugney's, but then we decided to go to Bretton Hall Country Park, or the Yorkshire Sculpture Park as it's otherwise known. It was most pleasant, if incredibly hot.
My plan for today was to go to York, and to see Catherine and Davie, and to go to the Jorvik Viking Centre. Alas, my father has gone off for the day, and someone has to stay at home to look after Karen. Typical.
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