After a weekend like the one I had, nothing could really compare. I've been back at work and unfortunately there's not a lot of work to do, so I've occupied myself with trying to find a topic on which to base my year abroad report. I'm struggling, because there's far too much choice, but I think I've settled on something. I'm going to check some facts and see if I can make something of it.
Other than that, work is quiet. No, that's a lie. There is not much work, but there's not much quiet either. You'll remember I was moved to a shiny temporary office while my new office is made ready. Today I was kicked out of the temporary office and into the office next door while my temporary office was essentially pulled apart. I don't know what the workers were hoping to find; by the looks of things the treasure of the Sierra Madre is somewhere to be found in that room.
That wouldn't be so bad, were it not for the heavy-duty power tools they're using to dismantle cupboards, desks, and a secret compartment under the floor. My new temporary office, located next door, positively vibrates to the cheerful sound of saws and drills. Thankfully it is very temporary; I go to Germany on Tuesday (Third year abroad, it's the best) and I get to stay there for a week. I'm incredibly excited by the prospect. I shall consume culture which will hopefully help soak up the copious amounts of beer I will inevitably drink.
Other than that, however, there is little more to say. Yesterday's regular student has made huge progress and has started autocorrecting, which means before long she won't need me any more. My other student arrives back from tennis tournaments halfway across the world this weekend, which is exciting, if only because I'll get to see how much English he's forgotten. And how much work we have to do.
So: one week to Germany, two weeks to new language hub, and six weeks until I have to hand in my year abroad report.
Yikes.
(Oh, and I'll find out about the job by the end of the week. It's only interesting to my mother and I, but she reads this so I mention it.)
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
Tuesday, 26 February 2013
Tantalising
I am exceedingly pleased with today's progress. French class was back up to full strength which meant I didn't have to answer every question. My supervisor has come back - she was away due to some personal matters, of which it is not my place to talk. And I've literally just finished Thursday's homework, so tomorrow afternoon will be dedicated to researching how best to teach two small children English. My mother has already given me spades of useful advice, so I strongly suspect that tomorrow after about 3.30 I shall be sticking, cutting, and writing in big letters with pens that are both colourful and highly addictive, if one gets one's nose too close to them.
I was up nice and early to watch my internet slow down to the approximate speed of a snail in treacle, and so instead I cracked on with the French work that I have just completed. If you have a desire to see a small and - most likely - badly written insight into my imagination, you may find it just here. If you don't speak French, I'm afraid it will be mostly useless, but if five people ask for it in English I shall gather the energy and do so.
This morning was actually full of false starts, now I think about it, because when I got in I sat in the office for a good hour by myself waiting for my supervisors, both of whom live out of town, to come in. As my door to door commute is about five minutes, including checking-myself-out-in-the-windows time, I didn't know that the road into town was absolutely blocked. So I kicked my heels for an hour with nothing to do; one of the dangers of working too efficiently. It leaves one with nothing on which one can work independently.
After lunch my colleague and I coached one of the administrative staff who's a main point of call for all international students and therefore has a pressing need to improve her English. We were interrupted several times, which was really good - it gave us a chance to see her in full flow with students. Remember that we have students who come from Russia, China, Iran...all over the world, and they bring a distinctly different cultural flavour - and English accent. Our colleague dealt with everything beautifully, and it was a real joy to watch her use phrases we'd literally just taught her.
The French class, as I say, was much better, and everyone seemed really energised. Perhaps the break that some of my classmates had taken had recharged their batteries. In any case, it's great to be back, though I think my teacher was less than overjoyed with the two page essay I turned in. I have absolutely got to learn how to edit.
A brief goodbye to my colleagues and classmates and I am home, having passed by the bank to drop off my hard-earned money. The BDE is having a party on Thursday in an ice bar, and three different students have insisted I come. The paranoid part of me has gone full Ackbar:
But the paranoid part of me can get stuffed. I'm excited about chilling with the students.
If that joke caught you by surprise then you have not read enough of this blog.
Oh, yesterday I asked you a question and nobody got the answer right. This is proof that I am making links that are far too far-fetched, even for the great minds who read this. The answer, by the way, was Lancelot, because a golf bag is where one keeps one's clubs. Lancelot is another name for the knave, or the Jack, of Clubs. Like all riddles it's annoyingly simple once you get it, and like all riddle-setters I am a smug twerp whose hat you'd pinch if you saw him.
It won't make me less smug, but at least you'll have a nice hat.
I was up nice and early to watch my internet slow down to the approximate speed of a snail in treacle, and so instead I cracked on with the French work that I have just completed. If you have a desire to see a small and - most likely - badly written insight into my imagination, you may find it just here. If you don't speak French, I'm afraid it will be mostly useless, but if five people ask for it in English I shall gather the energy and do so.
This morning was actually full of false starts, now I think about it, because when I got in I sat in the office for a good hour by myself waiting for my supervisors, both of whom live out of town, to come in. As my door to door commute is about five minutes, including checking-myself-out-in-the-windows time, I didn't know that the road into town was absolutely blocked. So I kicked my heels for an hour with nothing to do; one of the dangers of working too efficiently. It leaves one with nothing on which one can work independently.
After lunch my colleague and I coached one of the administrative staff who's a main point of call for all international students and therefore has a pressing need to improve her English. We were interrupted several times, which was really good - it gave us a chance to see her in full flow with students. Remember that we have students who come from Russia, China, Iran...all over the world, and they bring a distinctly different cultural flavour - and English accent. Our colleague dealt with everything beautifully, and it was a real joy to watch her use phrases we'd literally just taught her.
The French class, as I say, was much better, and everyone seemed really energised. Perhaps the break that some of my classmates had taken had recharged their batteries. In any case, it's great to be back, though I think my teacher was less than overjoyed with the two page essay I turned in. I have absolutely got to learn how to edit.
A brief goodbye to my colleagues and classmates and I am home, having passed by the bank to drop off my hard-earned money. The BDE is having a party on Thursday in an ice bar, and three different students have insisted I come. The paranoid part of me has gone full Ackbar:
But the paranoid part of me can get stuffed. I'm excited about chilling with the students.
If that joke caught you by surprise then you have not read enough of this blog.
Oh, yesterday I asked you a question and nobody got the answer right. This is proof that I am making links that are far too far-fetched, even for the great minds who read this. The answer, by the way, was Lancelot, because a golf bag is where one keeps one's clubs. Lancelot is another name for the knave, or the Jack, of Clubs. Like all riddles it's annoyingly simple once you get it, and like all riddle-setters I am a smug twerp whose hat you'd pinch if you saw him.
It won't make me less smug, but at least you'll have a nice hat.
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Money makes the world go round
This day has not been one of my favourite days. Weekend buses to my student, A, are once an hour and thus, as you'll imagine, I am always in time for them. I had my book with me, and was reading with an eye on the road, when I saw my bus sailing past.
Sailing is a word that is really only appropriate for boats, because only boats (and ships, I suppose) have sails. It is a word that speaks of regal, gliding motion that disregards you completely.
That was my bus. It glided past silently, regally, and ignored me completely.
I yelped. There is no other word for it; a sound escaped my lips that was more canine than human. I tried to catch up, but a bus is powered by horses. I'm only powered by my legs. Five minutes of running later and the only thing I was closer to was a heart attack. The bus was still ahead, and making ground. I gave up. Suits were not made for running, and neither was I.
In any case, that meant I turned up to teach the lesson thirty minutes late, and as those who are close to me know, I despise tardiness in other people and, consequently, even more so in myself. I was in a pretty epic fit of self-loathing when I arrived, and it wasn't helped by A's niceness. He is as nice a guy as anyone could hope to meet, but when one is in a fit of self-loathing one rather wants to be loathed.
In any case, we cracked on with Mathematics, that joyless and beautiful structure. Reviewing it in my dotage has given me new respect for my teachers of the subject, and a new love of it - helped in no small measure by the excellent book I'm reading, The Ascent of Money, which charts the whole history of that elusive thing. So far I have learnt about inflation, hyperinflation, the East India Trading Company and some background to the Merchant of Venice, so if you are at all interested in Finance, Economics, the world and its history (which, to paraphrase all coppers everywhere, can be summed up as "Follow the money.") then I urge you to buy/borrow/download a copy at once.
Being half an hour late pushed my lesson half an hour later; that extra half hour meant I missed the one bus an hour and would have to wait another hour and a half for the next - buses over the weekend take an hour for lunch. I can't get my head around that at all, but that's what happens, so I walked home. The descent is far easier than the ascent, and the sun shone out of a gloriously blue sky. It's still cold enough to crystallise the breath from one's nostrils but not so cold that being in it is unpleasant, and I enjoy that weather. All the fun of the sun without the hideous heat.
I called my little sister on the way home to wish her happy birthday; she appears to be suffering from amnesia and a hangover of epic proportions, so I wish her a speedy recovery from one, if not the other. Her birthday means that our little clan is now entirely adults, but I hope to spoil her one last time before we all start doing grown-up things like getting jobs and settling down.
More reading this afternoon, as well as laundry, mean I am utterly chilled and relaxed before starting work tomorrow. I confess I will never understand people who lie about on weekends, especially students who are strangers here - a year, a precious year, and you spend hours of it doing what you can do anywhere.
People are crazy. Which seems to be the overriding theme of the book. Honestly, it's a great read, can't recommend it enough.
In other blog news, my friend +Claudia Mangeac is moving to London to pursue a life in fashion. It's a cutthroat world and she'll need all the help she can get, but she's also going to be the next big thing - so go show her some love. She blogs here.
Sailing is a word that is really only appropriate for boats, because only boats (and ships, I suppose) have sails. It is a word that speaks of regal, gliding motion that disregards you completely.
That was my bus. It glided past silently, regally, and ignored me completely.
I yelped. There is no other word for it; a sound escaped my lips that was more canine than human. I tried to catch up, but a bus is powered by horses. I'm only powered by my legs. Five minutes of running later and the only thing I was closer to was a heart attack. The bus was still ahead, and making ground. I gave up. Suits were not made for running, and neither was I.
In any case, that meant I turned up to teach the lesson thirty minutes late, and as those who are close to me know, I despise tardiness in other people and, consequently, even more so in myself. I was in a pretty epic fit of self-loathing when I arrived, and it wasn't helped by A's niceness. He is as nice a guy as anyone could hope to meet, but when one is in a fit of self-loathing one rather wants to be loathed.
In any case, we cracked on with Mathematics, that joyless and beautiful structure. Reviewing it in my dotage has given me new respect for my teachers of the subject, and a new love of it - helped in no small measure by the excellent book I'm reading, The Ascent of Money, which charts the whole history of that elusive thing. So far I have learnt about inflation, hyperinflation, the East India Trading Company and some background to the Merchant of Venice, so if you are at all interested in Finance, Economics, the world and its history (which, to paraphrase all coppers everywhere, can be summed up as "Follow the money.") then I urge you to buy/borrow/download a copy at once.
Being half an hour late pushed my lesson half an hour later; that extra half hour meant I missed the one bus an hour and would have to wait another hour and a half for the next - buses over the weekend take an hour for lunch. I can't get my head around that at all, but that's what happens, so I walked home. The descent is far easier than the ascent, and the sun shone out of a gloriously blue sky. It's still cold enough to crystallise the breath from one's nostrils but not so cold that being in it is unpleasant, and I enjoy that weather. All the fun of the sun without the hideous heat.
I called my little sister on the way home to wish her happy birthday; she appears to be suffering from amnesia and a hangover of epic proportions, so I wish her a speedy recovery from one, if not the other. Her birthday means that our little clan is now entirely adults, but I hope to spoil her one last time before we all start doing grown-up things like getting jobs and settling down.
More reading this afternoon, as well as laundry, mean I am utterly chilled and relaxed before starting work tomorrow. I confess I will never understand people who lie about on weekends, especially students who are strangers here - a year, a precious year, and you spend hours of it doing what you can do anywhere.
People are crazy. Which seems to be the overriding theme of the book. Honestly, it's a great read, can't recommend it enough.
In other blog news, my friend +Claudia Mangeac is moving to London to pursue a life in fashion. It's a cutthroat world and she'll need all the help she can get, but she's also going to be the next big thing - so go show her some love. She blogs here.
Thursday, 14 February 2013
Reflected sound, as of underground spirits
I write this listening to Le Roi Lion. Those readers with sharp eyes and quick brains will note that Roi bears a passing resemblance to the English royal, which in turn is linked to the latin rex - as in Tyrannosaurus Rex, which is a vile mongrel of a word, containing Greek, Latinised Greek, and Latin. It means Tyrant-Lizard-King, and is quite frankly overkill. Clearly there's some overcompensation going on for those tiny arms.
Some people may well have not noticed, but it's Valentine's Day today. I've written at length about this particular festival, and if you are interested in reading that soft and squishy part of me, then I invite you to click here for love.
Otherwise, we shall say no more about the subject.
I only did a little translating this morning - some coding that a much smarter person than I had created needed its user-facing language translated - and spent the rest of my time deleting the records of alumni who'd died. It's a weird thing to do, scrubbing away the evidence that they were alive, but there's not much point in the in the automated system continuing to send out birthday cards and invitations to dinner. All the same - once our bodies have died, all that's left is echoes, and here I was systematically destroying one of those echoes. As I said, odd.
Lunch was spectacular again; the quality of the food keeps improving and I'm incredibly pleased by that. I'm eating more fruit and veg than I've ever done so take note, prospective third year abroad-ers - your complexion will clear up, your body will tone itself naturally, and your mind will leap like a salmon in spawning season.
I kid. You're going to eat way too much good food and have to be rolled home like the delicious cheeses on which you've been gorging yourself. You could be taken up to Montmartre and released, and virile young French men and women would chase you.
Cheese chasing. It's a real thing.
Because if there's one universal language, it's stupidity. Personal favourite moment is at the end, when a guy going at full pace sees what can only be described as a brick outhouse disguised as a human standing with shoulder pointed forward. Going fast, it has been said, doesn't hurt at all. Stopping suddenly - that's the kicker. Poor guy, he absolutely collapses. With friends like these, who needs enemies. Or kidneys, apparently.
My afternoon has been spent further expanding the inventory and an hour lesson with my favourite economist, who's given me homework. This is the problem with teaching teachers, it becomes something of a stalemate. Half the lesson is given over to checking each other's work.
In any case, I've got something called The Ascent of Money, which sounds marvelous, and have an article authored by the man himself about whether OPEC is still a cartel.
My brain is expanding in exciting ways.
In other blog news: Mary-Lyne updated her blog en masse, a French phrase which means while at church, and it's viewable here. The riddles are fiendish.
Finally: this blog will likely hit 10,000 views -
over the next week, and it's Valentine's, and I normally despise writers who break the fourth wall but -
To every single reader, from Finland to France and from Canada to Australia, you reading this means a huge amount to me.
Some people may well have not noticed, but it's Valentine's Day today. I've written at length about this particular festival, and if you are interested in reading that soft and squishy part of me, then I invite you to click here for love.
Otherwise, we shall say no more about the subject.
I only did a little translating this morning - some coding that a much smarter person than I had created needed its user-facing language translated - and spent the rest of my time deleting the records of alumni who'd died. It's a weird thing to do, scrubbing away the evidence that they were alive, but there's not much point in the in the automated system continuing to send out birthday cards and invitations to dinner. All the same - once our bodies have died, all that's left is echoes, and here I was systematically destroying one of those echoes. As I said, odd.
Lunch was spectacular again; the quality of the food keeps improving and I'm incredibly pleased by that. I'm eating more fruit and veg than I've ever done so take note, prospective third year abroad-ers - your complexion will clear up, your body will tone itself naturally, and your mind will leap like a salmon in spawning season.
I kid. You're going to eat way too much good food and have to be rolled home like the delicious cheeses on which you've been gorging yourself. You could be taken up to Montmartre and released, and virile young French men and women would chase you.
Cheese chasing. It's a real thing.
Because if there's one universal language, it's stupidity. Personal favourite moment is at the end, when a guy going at full pace sees what can only be described as a brick outhouse disguised as a human standing with shoulder pointed forward. Going fast, it has been said, doesn't hurt at all. Stopping suddenly - that's the kicker. Poor guy, he absolutely collapses. With friends like these, who needs enemies. Or kidneys, apparently.
My afternoon has been spent further expanding the inventory and an hour lesson with my favourite economist, who's given me homework. This is the problem with teaching teachers, it becomes something of a stalemate. Half the lesson is given over to checking each other's work.
In any case, I've got something called The Ascent of Money, which sounds marvelous, and have an article authored by the man himself about whether OPEC is still a cartel.
My brain is expanding in exciting ways.
In other blog news: Mary-Lyne updated her blog en masse, a French phrase which means while at church, and it's viewable here. The riddles are fiendish.
Finally: this blog will likely hit 10,000 views -
 |
| .gif stolen from http://www.crushable.com/2012/05/10/entertainment/nbc-cancels-parks-and-recreation-30-rock-community-wtf-888/ |
To every single reader, from Finland to France and from Canada to Australia, you reading this means a huge amount to me.
You know, even if the Finns could perhaps be doing a little more.
Monday, 4 February 2013
How to make money and influence markets
Today has been an incredibly enlightening day. My crêpes progress magnificently and are getting thinner and more perfect all the time, and my pitch for tomorrow is almost ready. I updated the records of our magazine in preparation for its digitisation - hopefully members will be able to simply search for things they like and get articles from previous issues.
The afternoon was almost entirely given over to coaching. The first session was two professors who also interview prospective students, so I had to think on my feet to come up with answers that a geology student might give. They weren't very good but, in my defence, I have never studied geology. I know, I know. It rocks.
The following session was even better - one of my favourite lecturers, the head of the Economics department. He explained the derivatives market to me (if you're interested, I wrote about it over here) and lent me Inside Job, a film exploring the reasons behind the financial crash. It looks like fascinating watching, so I'm planning on kicking back and watching that tonight as my regular student is ill, poor lamb.
There's nothing much else to say about today; I've a French lesson tomorrow and some homework to finish off so to make up for the incredibly long blog from yesterday and the derivatives explanation I know you're reading, class is dismissed for the day.
Oh, but I think I'm in love with a Russian who said of my French-English transitions when I was helping our gardienne with a Chinese student: "You make them like a ballerina."
Nicest comparison ever. Especially as she is a ballerina. She knows what she's talking about.
The afternoon was almost entirely given over to coaching. The first session was two professors who also interview prospective students, so I had to think on my feet to come up with answers that a geology student might give. They weren't very good but, in my defence, I have never studied geology. I know, I know. It rocks.
The following session was even better - one of my favourite lecturers, the head of the Economics department. He explained the derivatives market to me (if you're interested, I wrote about it over here) and lent me Inside Job, a film exploring the reasons behind the financial crash. It looks like fascinating watching, so I'm planning on kicking back and watching that tonight as my regular student is ill, poor lamb.
There's nothing much else to say about today; I've a French lesson tomorrow and some homework to finish off so to make up for the incredibly long blog from yesterday and the derivatives explanation I know you're reading, class is dismissed for the day.
Oh, but I think I'm in love with a Russian who said of my French-English transitions when I was helping our gardienne with a Chinese student: "You make them like a ballerina."
Nicest comparison ever. Especially as she is a ballerina. She knows what she's talking about.
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
What was Moses' basket made of?
There is something strangely satisfying about building a plan of a room. You get all the dimensions exactly right, and you measure things and then turn them into digital versions of themselves and put it all together and label it. By doing so you find out things you didn't know before. I've built up my whole office and I'm seriously pleased with it now.
Of course, it's taken about a week now and has been punctuated by exasperated yellings, but I'm learning, and learning is what I'm here to do. I've been speaking a lot more French too, and I'm working on my projection as well, which is sure to thrill Centre Stage. Centre Stage is the drama society at the University of Aberdeen, and I miss it. I may have to convince students here that they want to perform a play in English. Something where foreign accents would be entirely natural. If you have any ideas then let me know.
The audition piece from the other day has been almost universally ignored, but has gained me a charming new acquaintance. Aside from the obviously desired outcome - to whit, the director breaks down in tears and declares that the play must be delayed until this talent is returned - this is a very pleasant turn of events. Acquaintance is a word that has unfortunately fallen out of use but I find it useful because it's so neutral. It's not someone one is friends with, nor an enemy, nor a lover. It holds the potential to be any and - human nature being so complex - all of the above.
This morning the building work continued and I did my best to escape through running errands. I'm surprised anyone sleeps here at all; every errand I ran I was offered a coffee by the recipient and my French is still so poor that I'm yet to work out how to say no.
I guarantee that, like this morning, I shall wake up at 4am and be ready to face the day. I have a tidy room, a freshly made bed, I've re-read The Prince and it's still excellent - but unfortunately that means there'll be nothing left to do at 4am tomorrow morning. The perils of sleeping little. Book recommendations are gladly received, and I'll try to review any you do recommend.
Work is actually heating up now, which is really exciting, with translations coming in and plenty of Excel work. I'm becoming an absolute Excel demon, a phrase which didn't sound cool in my head but will look brilliant on my CV, I'm sure. I'm also slowly gearing up to take some of the work from my colleague, who's retiring soon, so I'm putting together proposals for a committee and consequently learning the dark arts of the same. Apparently placement, the order, the price - all come together in a certain way and can be used to influence the choosers. I'm looking forward to trying them out.
To finish, I want to say thank you for reading and pushing my blog over 5 000 views. You're awesome. A large chunk of that came from reading what I wrote yesterday so I heartily recommend my friend Kat, who writes more eloquently than I and has an infinitely more interesting life. Check her out over at Fuck Yeah, Feminist Agenda.
It's Wednesday, you're through the worst part of the week. Watch Derren Brown mess with this poor shop ownder and wonder why you bother working at all.
Of course, it's taken about a week now and has been punctuated by exasperated yellings, but I'm learning, and learning is what I'm here to do. I've been speaking a lot more French too, and I'm working on my projection as well, which is sure to thrill Centre Stage. Centre Stage is the drama society at the University of Aberdeen, and I miss it. I may have to convince students here that they want to perform a play in English. Something where foreign accents would be entirely natural. If you have any ideas then let me know.
The audition piece from the other day has been almost universally ignored, but has gained me a charming new acquaintance. Aside from the obviously desired outcome - to whit, the director breaks down in tears and declares that the play must be delayed until this talent is returned - this is a very pleasant turn of events. Acquaintance is a word that has unfortunately fallen out of use but I find it useful because it's so neutral. It's not someone one is friends with, nor an enemy, nor a lover. It holds the potential to be any and - human nature being so complex - all of the above.
This morning the building work continued and I did my best to escape through running errands. I'm surprised anyone sleeps here at all; every errand I ran I was offered a coffee by the recipient and my French is still so poor that I'm yet to work out how to say no.
I guarantee that, like this morning, I shall wake up at 4am and be ready to face the day. I have a tidy room, a freshly made bed, I've re-read The Prince and it's still excellent - but unfortunately that means there'll be nothing left to do at 4am tomorrow morning. The perils of sleeping little. Book recommendations are gladly received, and I'll try to review any you do recommend.
Work is actually heating up now, which is really exciting, with translations coming in and plenty of Excel work. I'm becoming an absolute Excel demon, a phrase which didn't sound cool in my head but will look brilliant on my CV, I'm sure. I'm also slowly gearing up to take some of the work from my colleague, who's retiring soon, so I'm putting together proposals for a committee and consequently learning the dark arts of the same. Apparently placement, the order, the price - all come together in a certain way and can be used to influence the choosers. I'm looking forward to trying them out.
To finish, I want to say thank you for reading and pushing my blog over 5 000 views. You're awesome. A large chunk of that came from reading what I wrote yesterday so I heartily recommend my friend Kat, who writes more eloquently than I and has an infinitely more interesting life. Check her out over at Fuck Yeah, Feminist Agenda.
It's Wednesday, you're through the worst part of the week. Watch Derren Brown mess with this poor shop ownder and wonder why you bother working at all.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
Exponential views!
My blog will soon pass three thousand (!) hits, and I would like to thank everyone who reads regularly for making me feel like the most important person on the internet. I'm 99.9% sure I'm not, but it feels pretty good to believe so. Therefore - thank you.
I arrived back in France yesterday after a very odd Eurostar journey. We were well into France, perhaps an hour away from Paris, when the most awful din started up. It sounded like the noise that occurs when you drive your car over a newly gritted road, but since I was on a train I could not for the life of me work out what the noise was. It was seriously unsettling, and the baby seated on its father's lap evidently agreed and began bawling its lungs out.
I was struggling to get back into French mode and was hesitating a little at the ticket window when a chap stepped so close to me that I could feel his beard and asked in French if I was going to take much longer. In French, but with a British accent. A British person who had clearly been away for so long that he had forgotten common courtesies. I confess I was a little sharp with the man, who huffed and told me that he was in a hurry.
Had I then dawdled and passed the time conversing with the man behind the window about the unknowable nature of God I daresay karma would have forgiven me but I resisted. I completed my transaction with appropriate haste and made my way down to the station, standing to one side on the escalator for this be-whiskered oik pass at some speed. Despite his alacrity he was,
sadly - so sadly! - just a little too late for the train. There was another along in three minutes, and he twitched and paced for 180 seconds. I would have liked to know what the terrible hurry was, but like many of the mysteries we glance in the lives of others it shall always remain so - a mystery.
It is pleasant, in any case, to be back.
I arrived back in France yesterday after a very odd Eurostar journey. We were well into France, perhaps an hour away from Paris, when the most awful din started up. It sounded like the noise that occurs when you drive your car over a newly gritted road, but since I was on a train I could not for the life of me work out what the noise was. It was seriously unsettling, and the baby seated on its father's lap evidently agreed and began bawling its lungs out.
I was struggling to get back into French mode and was hesitating a little at the ticket window when a chap stepped so close to me that I could feel his beard and asked in French if I was going to take much longer. In French, but with a British accent. A British person who had clearly been away for so long that he had forgotten common courtesies. I confess I was a little sharp with the man, who huffed and told me that he was in a hurry.
Had I then dawdled and passed the time conversing with the man behind the window about the unknowable nature of God I daresay karma would have forgiven me but I resisted. I completed my transaction with appropriate haste and made my way down to the station, standing to one side on the escalator for this be-whiskered oik pass at some speed. Despite his alacrity he was,
sadly - so sadly! - just a little too late for the train. There was another along in three minutes, and he twitched and paced for 180 seconds. I would have liked to know what the terrible hurry was, but like many of the mysteries we glance in the lives of others it shall always remain so - a mystery.
It is pleasant, in any case, to be back.
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