Briefly:

I've written quite a long explanation of what I learned in my French class today and realised that you're probably not here for the French grammar lessons that I am. If you're interested in reading then by all means, it's over here, but otherwise my day was as follows:

Going into the office to discover that I had made two small errors the previous evening both, unfortunately, to the same person. Having finished a minor proofread and edit I sent the editor a cheery email, explaining that I'd only found some very small errors and that with my enclosed corrections the piece was ready to be published. As I sent it I realised I'd forgotten to attach the document, and shot off another quick message, apologising for the first and reaffirming that with my attached correction the piece could be published. I then went home.

You're all laughing, because you can see where this is going, but I couldn't and didn't.

So when I came in this morning I settled into my desk, opened my inbox, and got an understandably irritated message and, shortly after, a phone call. All was fixed in minutes, but the editor had a point - without the article he'd been left twiddling his thumbs. I try not to err, as it only reminds me that I'm human, but I do think that all email systems in the world could do with something like this from +Gmail:

I did! Thanks, Google!

Aside from that, however, my morning progressed as normal - I took some phone bookings for the cultural events we run for alumni and my supervisor and I adjusted the plan I've done for my old office. Since it's now finished with, I'm going to share it with you, because I think it's awesome and I hope you'll appreciate the huge number of hours I poured into it.

Isn't it glorious?

It's also a 3D model. Even as I type that I can hear the appreciative susurrations of future friends and acquaintances.

In the afternoon I discovered two things; one, that dates for the next TOEIC session had already been set - a fact I discovered by opening my inbox and watching 120 inquiring messages come in - and that someone high above me had given the order for my office to be moved, bypassing both my colleague and my supervisor. I suspect this is a danger in many large organisations; it's hard to ensure that right and left hand both know what they're doing at the same time. After sorting out a more suitable date for them to deconstruct everything the foreman and I had a pleasant chat about my internship and he congratulated me on my French. Happy days.

Last thing today was French class, which was interesting. I've done preceding direct object pronouns before but one thing caught me out; preceding indirect objects which, as it turns out, don't agree. The lessons are really helping with vocabulary and to clear up little grammar points I've always been a little shaky on and, as I love teaching, the professor puts up with my chattering as I try to nudge my classmates in the right direction. I really like this particular professor, although the fact that he's never read Calvin and Hobbes may prove to be a source of serious contention. 

In fact, here. Have some Calvin and Hobbes to warm your heart.

Bill Waterson, you magnificent, genius son of a gun. Come back.

In which our hero discovers writing is hard

Today has been absolutely full of writing things. If using one's brain burnt calories, then I'd have the perfect excuse for the slice of coconut cake I had with lunch. As far as I can tell, it doesn't, and I don't.

This morning I liaised with an Association member who needed a rewrite of her MBA application letter. It was a complete rewrite, and at certain points I wondered what she hoped to gain from submitting a letter written in good English but having an interview in which she would struggle. Still, ours is not to reason why; I raised the question but she waved it away, assuring me that she could converse fluently in English if necessary. I was not reassured, mostly due to the fact that we spent two hours rewriting and spoke only in French. I also edited an article for our quarterly review by a super-hilarious guy who was pleased that safety was the number one concern for companies, "especially those working in remote offices where local workers have little or no education and no concern for the own health." Yup, those funny foreign people, they have no sense of self preservation because they're not really human beings. Git. In the same article he wrote about how the West is the best because we have democracy. Double git.

I took a nice early lunch today with my colleagues; a strange situation where I got to experience three English people sitting with a Colombian person and speaking French as the lingua franca. It's really exciting that there are still small pockets and combinations of people where English is not necessarily the only way in which to communicate.

My early lunch was because I had a French class at 13h30, and although several of my fellow students were missing the six of us had a very interesting lesson. We did a mini-test, a micro version of the full TFI that we'll be taking before long. Apparently the TFI is not as well known as the TOEIC/TOEFL, so I'll have to give some sort of addendum to it. The test did not go as well as expected, and I've now got a long list of grammar points on which I have to focus.

A good lesson though; a test is a great way to see where weaknesses are and saves me having to go through an entire grammar book getting frustrated with practising the things I already know. Now I can target my learning. It doesn't sound like fun, but it's the lesser of two evils - if you know you've got to study then rather than studying more, study smarter.

I've my post-apocalyptic French essay to write now and then to relax I'm going to write some more; I managed two acceptable sketches and then had to give up. This writing malarkey is tough.

A picture to close from my friend Meg, because it's funny in sort of not funny way at all. I can appreciate the pun but simultaneously be kind of horrified that it's an ad.

"Even I've been accused of penny-pinching. But I paid Penny off"

Sexual harassment in the workplace. Now it can sell conference calls.

The necessary first post about Paris and tardiness.

I'm three months into my year abroad, over a quarter of the way through. I figured at this point I should probably start writing things down, because 

1. I am a linguistic Midas, and every word I type is golden.
2. The above is absolutely not true, but I’d quite like to think it is, and the only way to get to that point is by practise.
3. Also, some people I’ve met here may want to read about my experiences.

So a brief rundown to start with - I’m working in two distinctly different areas; teaching and office assisting. In the former, I work with a permanent member of staff to teach English; she has kindly given me the higher groups and, since I’m at a post-graduate school, all of these students have a fairly high level of English already. I teach three conversation classes - although teach is really too professional a word for what happens, which is mostly debate and games - and one TOEIC preparation class.

The TOEIC is a Test Of English for International Communication, and is apparently highly regarded here. I am English, and can confess that even though I am studying French, I had not heard of its French equivalent until a month ago. This, for me, demonstrates the vast gulf between European attitudes to language and the British attitude to the same. However; a problem, once recognised, can be overcome, and I plan to take the equivalent test of French next year as a sort of triumphant, nerdy climax to my year. My assault on Barad-Dûr, if you will, only with more preparation and, unfortunately, less Ian McKellen.

I’m staying in Rueil-Malmaison, and as well as letting me live in a cosy studio rent-free, I also draw a very comfortable wage. Rueil - as we locals call it - is about twenty minutes from La Défense by the excellent bus service, and from there the Arche de la Défense serves as a gateway to the La Ville Lumière; The City of Lights.

See also: the city of rude people, expensive everything, sheer madness on scooters, casual and vile misogyny, theft, and achingly cool and fashionable people by the truckload. If trucks were achingly cool. They certainly give off enough smoke. I’ve used achingly, by the by, because that’s the sensation it gives me as I see them. They are effortlessly cool. Parisians - on the whole - put so little effort into being so chic, so everything-I-wish-I-could-carry-off-but-can’t, that it makes me irrationally jealous and a little achy.

I’m sure you’ve had the same experience, whether it was for a state of mind - seeing old, still-happy couples - a thing, like a suit or a dress, a piece of jewellery or that person for whom you still hold a flame. That sentiment occurs to me when I see a Parisian smoking and lounging, or multiple Parisians smoking and drinking little coffees and speaking so quickly. I hope that other nationalities coming to the UK have that sentiment, but somehow I doubt it. Maybe I’m wrong. If I’m wrong, do say.

So in conclusion: Paris is expensive, over-hyped, full of rudeness and death-by-Vespa. And I am very seriously considering living here forever.