Une Année

It's really quite fascinating to see how just absolutely everything can change in the space of a year. An attempt to document this, entirely for myself, is in order. Perhaps not chronologically, just how it all comes tumbling out. On verra bien si je y arrive. En ce moment le quotidien est si changable!

Very important, very clichéd things that I've come out of the last 12 months clinging on to:

• Whatever you do keep laughing and don't start crying


• The what ifs and the regrets just aren't worth it. Don't go down that road, you'll not come back in one piece.


• You regret what you don't do, not what you do. Take the chances. Life's too short.


• When in doubt just keep busy. Very busy.


• Concentrate on the little things. The moments of laughter and joy. They might not come around very often.
• 
  
• When you've got a good thing hold onto it. Make the effort. Love unconditionally, if you don't try you'll never find out.


• Always fly British Airways. Easyjet just ends up being more expensive in the end.

I don't think I handled that very well

Today I had lunch with a very very dear old friend I had not seen for more than two years who was over visiting from Paris. He and I were just as we had always been and I realised how daft we were not to have managed to see each other for so long.

So we're two old friends rather wrapped up in each other. As we enter my pub of choice I suddenly spot The Boy/Ex-Boy (that's another story) sitting at a table immediately in front. The Boy looks up as we enter; we're laughing and have managed to faff with opening the door. For a moment I'm like a rabbit caught in the headlights. When my brain finally defrosts I disentangle my arm and steer Parisian toward a table far away.

Cue a few minutes of me rather unsure what to do.

a) Do I introduce?
b) Do I wave and go over?
c)Or do I just engage in conversation in a somewhat over-enthusiastic manner and hope that everything will go away?

I chose c having decided that a or b could give the wrong impression (or any impression really) and risk making an already nightmarish mess worse. In the end, The Boy takes the initiative and I get a text to inform me that he's rearranged his lunch with The Man With Whom I Never See Eye to Eye (That Man happens to also be one of his best friends) and is going elsewhere.

Crisis averted. Guilt suitably induced. It was possibly all over nothing anyway, but I am in no doubt that That Man would have found a spoon to stir somewhat vigorously.

Tesco. Friday Night. Eleven Thrity Pee Hem.

I've found that now I have overcome the hurdle of escaping my duvet fort the world is, apparently, at my feet.

Naturally, at a late hour on a Friday evening the most logical thing to do with my new found freedom seemed to be to go to Tesco. I bought a veritable treasure chest of items in my excitement to be rid of the Cabin Fever; these included 2 notebooks, 3 jotter pads, an assortment of clickable biros, far too much orange squash, The Guardian, The Independent (got both wings covered there, phew) and a packet of chocolate fudge brownies (Weight Watchers' unfortunately). All was going swimmingly up until I arrived home and spread out my purchases with glee at which point I examined one of the boxes in a new light...

...Bugger. Lent. Chocolate not permitted.

Needless to say I've spent the last ten minutes staring at said sliced temptations willing them to morph into shortbread or something else I can allow myself to consume. I think I'll start furiously eating the peanuts instead.

Perhaps I can even persuade the cat to eat them. Excellent. I'll round off celebrating my freedom by chasing the cat with a box of brownies.

Just another friday night chez franglaise.

An Open Letter to Lush, makers of Fresh Handmade Cosmetics

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to express my distinct displeasure at the quality of your "Think Pink" bath bombs.
As part of a thoughtful, spontaneous gift, The Boy recently purchased me an assortment of your bath bombs and other goodies. He is also aware of my penchant for the colour pink. This naturally resulted in his purchase including one or two the aforementioned "Think Pink" bath bomb variety.

I have spent the last 4 days in bed with flu. What better way to reward myself than by using one of your delightful products I ask myself? I pop one of said Think Pink bombs into my bath, gingerly step in and relax away.

Unfortunately, the flu means that after around 10 minutes I am shivering violently and forced to abandon attempts at bathing. However, your products have suitably relaxed me and I do not feel upset by this situation. Job done you might say? Oh no. On getting out of the bath and emptying the water I discover a 3 inch deep pink watermark. It took me twice the amount of time I was able to spend in the bath to scrub said pink line away. After which I was thoroughly exhausted and forced to retreat under the duvet for the duration of the evening.

I would hardly consider ten minutes to be an average duration of a relaxing bath, what happens to the poor people who decide they dare relax for half an hour? And more to the point, what sort of ridiculous, half-assed, thoughtless company manufactures bath bombs that are going to STAIN THE BATHS OF PEOPLE WITH FLU who have made said washing excursion the HIGHLIGHT OF THEIR DAY?

Yours grumpily,

Franglaise

The tone of this letter may or may not be related to me having run out of lemsip and nurofen. Help.

Franglaise?

1. After spending many years not just surviving but apparently thriving on less than 5 hours sleep a night, there was the crash. Now I seem to experience a permanent state of exhaustion.


2. I passed my driving test first time.


3. But I can't park to save my life. In my driving test I was asked to do a 3 point turn and reverse around a corner, had I been asked to parallel park I would not have passed. This is a constant source of amusement to friends who often become frustrated whilst driving with me and end up parking the car themselves.


4. I was a prefect at school (ooh la la).


5. I spend far too much of my life worrying rather than acting on what is worrying me.


6. I never did enough work. Ever. I'm secretly afraid that I never will. I wonder if I'll ever be able to beat the procrastination.


7. I'm a size 8, entirely by accident. I feel like a cheat, I wobble far too much to be a size 8. I appear to be one of those people who can eat anything and still say slim(ish). If I wasn't, with my diet, I'd be at least 30 stone by now. This scares me. As does the knowledge that I'm not sure I would have the willpower to really diet if I ever was to become very overweight.


8. As does how often I consider smoking again. To get rid of my appetite.


9. I found myself a "second' family entirely by accident. They are, more often than not, why I get up in the morning. I miss them all day. I am getting through things at the moment by knowing I will soon be back near to them. This is all wrong. This implies there is something amiss with my wonderful wonderful "real" family. Yes, there's a very difficult situation or six buried in there, but they are my family. I love them. Perhaps it's all fine. I can have two, right?


10. I will always be a flirt. This has got me into trouble more times than I would care to remember.


11. I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It is an instant reminder of summer, friends and cricket. Walking barefoot is another instant reminder of summer; my feet are regularly in tatters due to my love of the freedom of walking barefoot. Typing this I'm humming along to Ash's "Walking Barefoot". Good song that.


12. The first CD I bought was a Steps album, closely followed by a Five album. Oh the shame. Needless to say, my music taste probably hasn't improved all that much, despite how hard The Boy tried.


13. Nothing can beat communicating by letter. Especially with those you love. Somehow, if they are too far away, writing brings you so much closer together. I love being able to look forward to the post arriving again. The postman knows to put the letters with the certain postmark at the top.


14. I always dreamt of a very very traditional very very white wedding (oh, how typical you say), perhaps because I attended my parents' aged 8 or 9 dressed in football kit. Yes, took the tomboy phase further than most.


15. I have no piercings or tattoos. This is not due to any dislike of either, I just never got around to it.


16. I can't sing, not even remotely. This is midly upsetting although I have been known to lose awareness of this particular fact whilst riding on a tram listening to my ipod. As a child, I couldn't help but feel my life would have been different if I could sing. And if I had an "innie" belly button. All the cool kids had "innie"s and I felt like the imposter.


17. I have always been hopeless at public speaking. I clam up, stammer or just speak at a hundred words per minute. Recently, however, I have found that just forcing myself to stand up and talk has yielded surprisingly successful results. Long may it continue.


18. Mon coeur sera toujous en trente trois. C'est là où ma vie a changé. Je ne suis pas à l'aise quand je ne suis pas là. Jamais. Cela m'inquiete.