I can only claim now that I am a veteran Calaisonian (this is, apparantly an actual term that the people of Calais use about themselves). By this, I mean, I am a regular user of the laundrette (soul destroying), I can pidgeon French my way through a meal in a restaurant and topping up my internet dongle, I have been out for coffee and a beer on my own, I walk everywhere, I sit on the beach and I watch the ferries go in and out of port. The only things stopping me from becoming a proper Frenchie is that I don't drive like a maniac and I don't feel the need to take a gun to people on the grounds of the religious beliefs (thanks for the update dad) - NOTE this is happening in the South of France, the only thing that Northern France cares about is baguettes - there is always a queue in the boulangerie. I am safe - fear not.
So now I feel proper at home here in Calais I have no excuse to not sit and do some work for my WSET (wine exam) and yet, like the three years I spent at uni, the two years of college and the eleven years of school before that - I am finding every excuse not to work. I have re-arranged my flat to something lightly more homely, I have cleaned it top to bottom, I have read all seven Harry Potters and I have started to work my way through Fifteen Minute French. What is it with me and work - it's a good job I didn't dtay in education. I could not be bothered with it. My WSET can suck my balls (and as I don't have any, the term 'my' clearly means Joe's as what is his is, technically, mine). Ironically, I have just finished (and now hate with a passion) the French section of my WSET and have decided that I would rather eat my own face than have to worrk about the AC's of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Beaujolais, Rhone, Loire and Southern France. All of which are apparantly ever so important. Fuck Off. As long as it is drinkable I don't care (you can take the girl out of Chorley...)
Being in France has helped me direct my thoughts in regard to life in general. I know now where I want to be when I come back to the UK, what I want to do with my life and where I want to take it and who I want to stay as a part of my life and who I don't need any more and who don't need me. I am thoroughly enjoying being in the wine trade and it is taking me to places I would never have been able to go to in other jobs so I am happy staying within it, I am just more focused now in my role within the wine trade - something that I never thought I would say. Considering this time last year I was applyin for these graduate jobs with the only thought being that I needed a job, to actually have a lifel plan, I believe is a goal - allbeit a very personal one that may seem minor to others.
What a vague paragraph.
So I had a bit of a wobble the other day (which I am sure some will be pleased about). It was mothers day and it just hit me how much I miss home. That and a skype call to Katie on Monday was enough to have me in tears for most of Monday night sniviling like a child. I managed to gget myself tangled up in that self-pitying circle (which I am most definitely out of now) of reminiscing. High Mead and all the Liverpool kids, Tash, that Fav night, and Jacques. Black and white is your friend/everything looks better in black and white, The Chapel, Jones, Uni and Leeds in general. Pooopia, naked Emma at Kendal and girls lunch dates. It's hard being out here, away from all that. But on the other hand, fuck it - I am in France.
Got a few days off next week, holiday days, which if it is sunny I shall spend driving the coast, I think a trip to Dunkirk and possibly Belgium is on the cards - no doubt I will regail with you of tails of war sites that I have visited and chocolate houses. I wonder if there will be a Willy Wonker-esque factory awaiting my arrival - maybe I won't come back to Calais...mwahaha. Basically, what I am planning is going to go and scope out some really cool places, and learn loads about it so that when you come over and visit I can impress (bore) you with my knowledge on the local area and history.
I am such a tool.
Tonight I am drinking water - by the bucket load.
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