L'Etrangère

I slept really badly last night. I think I was over excited at the imminent arrival of my visitors from Angleterre (Mum and Keeley, on Sunday evening). Anyway, by five in the morning I decided to give up trying and go and find a nice place to watch the sunrise instead. So I jumped in the car and trundled off eastwards to look for a beach.

I found a secret plage not far away, near Rivière Salée, where I could drive almost onto the sand and get a really good view of Dawn’s crack. But just as I switched off the engine and opened the door it began to bucket down lashing rain and wind. And due to the incredible saturation risk, I was forced to remain in my vehicle.

So, fatigued and saddened by my adventure spoilt, I rested my weary head on the steering wheel and listened to the rain pounding the car instead. And somewhere in the few moments that followed I found a kind of inner tranquillity - or maybe it was just exhaustion taking over. Anyway the persistent precipitation tapping on the roof reminded me of good old soggy old England and I felt momentarily happy again.

It was still far too early when I got back to do anything useful (like all the food shopping I needed to do) so I spent the next hour making a ‘Joyeux Noël’ banner out of clever drawing talent and tinsel. And then I hung it up and looked at it proudly for a moment ...before realising I’d spelt it wrong and had to start again.

Still too early to go to the shops, I decided to make an enormously elaborate breakfast of fried potatoes and onions, egg and salami. Mmmm... heart attack... And eventually I got so bored of the shopping channel and its anti-cellulite knickers (how the hell do they talk people into buying such ridiculous things?) I decided to go to my school’s Christmas Fête.

I wish I hadn’t. Those things are rather irritating at the best of times but at least one would normally go with a friend (or have a dad working on the tombola stall or something) and therefore have someone to talk to. But apart from a couple of games of dominoes with some of my CM1 kids, the only person I spoke to there was Mr Lazimo – and that was only out of desperation and loneliness and being unable to bear feeling like a complete outsider any longer.

So I’m currently filled with yearning and sadness. And this evening, like some annoying existentialist French ponce, I can only fix my eyes on my own belly button and contemplate my pointless existence.

But don’t worry – it won’t last. I’m entertaining this week! xx