New tricks, old cats, and keys. And this damned tooth.

Parents arrive in four and a half weeks. I leave three and a half weeks after that.

This is not making me happy at all.

Still, following Third Year Abroad on Twitter is giving me just a little glee in a sort of schadenfreude way, as I watch my fellow year abroaders try to pretend that the unhappy day has arrived and they have to go back to Blighty. I'm still here, just, and the desire to return gets stronger every day. I can definitely see myself coming back for a Master's, especially if the UK continues to raise the price of Higher Education. In any case, you're not interested in my musings on my future. You want my day. Here you are then.

My wisdom is increasing, and now my teeth feel very strange - as though they no longer fit together correctly. I strongly suspect that this is going to require some minor surgery, which is a deeply unhappy prospect, so if it comes to that wish me luck and hope that I come out of surgery only missing the teeth I don't need. Ultimate test of French right there.

My morning was interesting; a translation and an update to a couple of things. Nothing too taxing, but it was quite enjoyable and I was given free rein to give the text a little more bounce that it got from the straight translation. At lunch I tried out a new trick I've been working on and I'm very pleased with the way it turned out; only one major error and it was brushed aside as "nobody's perfect." I believe, looking back, that if I'd pulled it off flawlessly it would somehow have been less impressive.

Back to the office for the afternoon and more translation as well as a brainstorming session with my colleague in the Association. She wants to do a video do, and has some really interesting ideas that hopefully I'll be able to realise. So far I'm confident, but she might come in tomorrow with something completely hare-brained.

This evening I went to see C, my Monday night student. She's going away this weekend, and last week she mentioned how frustrating it was that people charged her 60€ to look after her cat. Since her going away would mean no lesson (and thus no cash) I immediately stepped forward and offered to do it for half price. The deal was struck, and so today I went over and was shown how the microwave oven, coffee machine, and WiFi work. That's all a chap needs, really, so although I shall be twenty minutes from work (instead of thirty seconds) I'm rather looking forward to a morning commute. I shall be able to stagger into the office and complain about the traffic, it'll be awfully fun.

After showing me round we had sashimi and a glass of wine. I still can't like sashimi. I'm not a fan of raw fish at all. Fried, steamed, poached, roasted but cold - yeuch. Sling it on the fire.

Finally home, to find eating an apple is surprisingly painful. It's going to have to be M. Le Dentiste, isn't it. Yikes.

Have you had any French dentistry experience? How was it? How expensive was it? Please help out with any knowledge you've got.

Back to normal

Normal here means my normal style; less "blue". My girlfriend assigns colours to my blog, but she also leaves out the u in colour so we'll take what she says with a pinch of salt. (She's coming back tomorrow, and I react to the reappearance in my life of those I've missed by being sarcastic and mean.) In any case, today began with a bang as I had an hour-long meeting five minutes after I got in. It was a great meeting, with lots of positive actions coming out of it, but all the same - that much French a mere 90 minutes after I'd woken up and blearily switched on +France24 is too much, even for someone with my staggering intellect and endless reserves of modesty.

In any case, I understood everything, and have now been commissioned to record myself giving one presentation about mind maps as well as film a series of clips for a secret project. Secret for the moment, in any case. There'll be more about it once I have more details for sharing. In any case, that brought me to 10, when I went to work for the Association, sorting out figures from last year. The accounts seem to be a bit of a mess, but I was reassured by my colleague that the figures I'd worked with last year were all wrong, and the ones I know held in my hands were the "good" ones.

(To all French students of English:  le bon is "the right one", and not "the good one. We can't make moral judgements about numbers.)

I had to fortify myself with coffee to bite back the quick response, which was why on earth was I not given the right figures in the first place, and as I waited for the dark nectar to fill my cup I realised that they probably thought they were the right figures in the first place. It is far too easy to leap to the conclusion that everyone had the information then that they do now, and it's simply untrue. I took a deep breath, a deep draught of coffee, squared my shoulders, and wrote lovely formulas to make numbers jump across pages and add up in neat little columns.

I darted back and forth between the Association and the mediatheque for the rest of the morning as students dropped in for books and DVDs. I have been dong that a lot recently, as I'm yet to work out how to automatically transfer calls. It seems that whenever I am in the Association nobody calls but the world wants to get in touch with the mediatheque, while when I'm in the mediatheque the world and his brother are both calling my Association phone. Sometimes, just for fun, they'll ring together, and I'll get so confused I run into a wall.

I have a fitness machine disguised as a pair of phones and it is a sadistic son of a gun.

I am also only now discovering the joys of endless e-mail threads, where you read something and then write your reply and send to all, because your opinion is so damn important that everyone must read it. Not just the project leader. Everyone on the project. This guy, who did a little picture montage and then nothing else this morning came into an inbox full of e-mail tennis about the correct wording of the French text in the e-mail that accompanied the montage.

And right at the bottom, after scrolling through for twenty minutes and trying to decipher the semantic battle waging, I find: "The montage is fine."

Road rage is a picnic with Winne the Pooh compared to the sensation coursing through a fellow's bloodstream on having read every line of this silliness in hope of any sort of feedback on one's work and finding it consists of four words.

No matter. I quit the business at midday, and threw myself into mediatheque work. The first part of the dual projects I have going on require a translation in which I have - and gods, I love my colleague for saying this - I have white card.

You've never seen anyone look so blank in your life. He repeated.

"Tu as white card pour faire ce que tu veux"

Understanding crept over me like moss creeps over a boulder. Slowly.

"Carte blanche?" I asked.

He beamed. "Oui!"

I almost bit through my lip trying not to laugh. What are the odds that he would pick that exact phrase to translate? Marvelous. A moment of pure comedy.

So I've broken down some of the heavier phrases and pages into more manageable chunks, like a bar of 95% chocolate recommended by the mother of an ex-girlfriend. I've played with the phrasing but, reading back what I've written, I'm realising that I may need to tone down the "me-ness" in it for those who don't speak my particular brand of English.

All of this, by the way, and it wasn't even lunchtime. I love working this hard, the time absolutely flows. I also love Fridays, because I get served this after lunch:

Pictured: why you want to work in France.

Second coffee of the day and this time with chocolate. There's just too much dark deliciousness there.

Straight after lunch I had a meeting with M, who's in charge of social media at the School. She's also charming, smart, and my co-collaborator on my third current project. She'll be interviewing a senior member of staff about an exciting new relationship that the School is developing, and she wants me to help her film and then subsequently edit the footage. We'll be adding in watermarks and doing our best to make the whole thing look as professional as possible.

Exciting times!

The rest of the afternoon was then given over to Chapter 4 of the book, which I didn't even realise I'd not seen yet. While I'll be losing marks for, you know, noticing stuff, I think it should be well noted that I then promptly busted my ass for another 90 minutes before throwing everything in a bag and running off to teach my private students.

Their lessons went well, though it's interesting to see that B, while more confident, is still a lot shakier on grammar than C - but C would rather carve her own arms off than say more than a sentence at a time. I need some way to meld them into one super-student and then divide them in two.

Crashed home, bought a kebab on the way - immigration is amazing for so many reasons, but the spread of spectacular food is the one I love best - and now, at twenty past ten, I'm considering going to bed. I had a lucky escape today; I was offered the last ticket to a party happening tonight in the Tour Montparnasse, the 2nd highest point in Paris. I was more than tempted; despite the long day, this was one of those occasions that will never come again.

But when I dug into my pockets I found nothing; not even a bit of fluff. Not even a moth to comically flutter out to denote my total lack of cash. The opportunity passed me by.

Let's be honest - after last time, that's probably just as well.

Jonathan im Deutschland - Third Day

Today dawned grey. I looked out across a beautiful vista that was simply a mass of grey. Things did not look hopeful for our early morning journey to Frankfurt, or The Fort of the Franks, the barbarians (the bearded ones) who would go on to make Frankreich - or in English, Frank-land. Except we dropped the -land, and the hard k, and ended up with France. 

Etymology lesson over for today. Onwards and upwards!

A short drive, two trains (a train station is no place to stand about for fifteen minutes, especially when it's so cold you can actually feel your toes tingling as they cling onto sensation) and a change later we found ourselves in Frankfurt. Our first stop was for liquid fuel, and to my enormous surprise my German was sufficient to order a cup of coffee, a cup of tea and a waffle.

Do not underestimate the ease with which my ego can be stroked. The mere fact that I ordered in German and was understood was enough to put a spring in my step and an easy, winning smile on my face. I imagine I was utterly insufferable. As we sat with hot drinks we bent our heads to planning, having acquired a plan of the city in the tourist information centre for a mere fifty cents.

(I also acquired an interesting book in French about Frankfurt, which the lady sold me in French. Because she speaks French, English and German and instantly won my eternal respect.)

The plan was to head out of the town centre and in the pursuit of knowledge and museums. We puzzled our way through the U-bahn (underground trains which, puzzlingly, convert themselves into trams with no warning.) system and set out an itinerary. We were so intensely involved in the planning, in fact, that my waffle that I'd left warming over my coffee sagged and sunk into it. Fishing a caramel waffle out of a cup of hot coffee is not an exercise I recommend to anyone.

With our bodies refueled we set off like jet planes except slower and with legs. Our first stop was the Explora science museum. It's not a science museum like the one in London, it's just a wee thing hidden away ten minutes from a U-bahn stop. It's over four levels, each floor with something fascinating for the eyes or the ears. A path is laid out, and you go up to the top floor first. There are these lovely images, which use mirrors to construct an image of the painter of the images that surround the mirrors.

It's a bit complicated when I explain it, but the images should help explain what I mean - for example, on the left here we've got Picasso in the mirrored pyramid with paintings in his style around it. I couldn't work out how the image got in there, so perhaps someone with a bigger brain than me can figure it out and leave a comment to let me know.

I also really like this one, which is - well, it's obvious who.

There were also a load of holograms, some of which were seriously unsettling and some of which were simply surprising.

We also agreed that clowns, all clowns, could go fuck themselves, and further that any adult who thought children would not be emotionally scarred by clown-doctors could join the clowns in auto-adoration.

I really don't like clowns.

After the museum we headed back towards the old town. Our stomachs were gurgling and hunger was setting in - Ali and are people who need to be fed regularly or we become snappy and grumpy. I know people who can play video games all day and need nothing more than water for sustenance but I am not one of those people. I am a person for whom food is an addiction and the withdrawal pangs more than I can face.

We were momentarily distracted from the onset of starvation by a cathedral. It takes a lot to take my mind off my next meal, but this building was sufficient. The cathedral is astonishing. It is a work that has been in progress since the 14th century. That's unbelievable. It looks astonishing, and although it's impossible to capture such a mass of stone in a photograph, I've given it a go. 

It's absolutely incredible, both outside and inside. The inside is enormous, with two organs and an incredible mix of artwork. I say mix because it's not every day you have ancient sculpture:

One of the thieves at Jesus' side will be going to heaven.
Odds are it's not the chap with the most clothes on.

With this quite frankly disturbing interpretation of the crucifixion, although it does raise interesting ideas about the nature of Christ, vis-à-vis his humanity versus his divinity.

Or at least it does to nerds like me. To everyone else maybe not.

The middle skull has a crown of thorns, just in case the viewer is not as obsessed with Christ-mythology as me.

However, even the incredible works of humanity could only do so much to stave off the pangs of hunger, and we descended once more into the bowels of the earth in search of food.

We found it. Oh, god did we find it.

We found a little place that served me a burger that I ate (ate is the normal verb, but demolished, devoured, destroyed would better describe the action) with haste, while Ali had a club sandwich for which even the most homesick of Americans would shred his or her passport.

Lunch took a goodly long time, and it was 4pm before we left. Both Ali and I were excited for our next stop; the Natural History Museum. It can be found opposite the Goethe University and is a mere 4€ for students. Plus, dinosaurs. 

MOTHER

FREAKING

DINOSAURS

I like dinosaurs. They were terrible thunder lizards and this guy was the king of the terrible thunder lizards.

Saying that, I also like Economics, French, etymology, physics, mathematics and apparently now German, so I'm kind of slutty when it comes to giving my attention to things.

Knowledge is there to be picked up and learnt. It loves to be learnt. Get it inside you.

Alright, enough silliness. Onwards to the exciting time we spent in the natural history museum...

Or didn't. It was half past four when we arrived, and the museum would close at five.

We turned ourselves around and headed back towards the station to catch our train, but before we did, we stopped off at Willy-Brandt-Platz.

Stop sniggering at the back there.

In...the Platz, there is a giant European symbol. This was good for me, because I love Europe. Europe is sexy and full of different languages and you don't need to change your money. It's probably infantile to be pleased by this, but I can take money earned in Paris and spend it in Frankfurt and at no point will an exchange earn commission for changing my money.

I like that. I like a lot of other things about Europe, but that's the thing that struck me today.

Note that one of the stars is broken. Notice how I make no political comment at all here, because this is a fun blog about my third year abroad and also because a broken light is literally meaningless, unless you need to see your way to your bathroom or you've forgotten it's broken and you bruise your foot trying to turn it on.

Don't ask me why you'd turn a light on with your foot, because I agree that it's insane.

Another two trains, another brief car journey, and we're here. And I've written all this to you and uploaded photos from the day; if you're interested in seeing them, just click here.

Europe. I love you. Frankfurt, I'm going to be in you again tomorrow. We saw something by the Europe symbol that means we'll be back in the fort of the Franks tomorrow. To find out what it is, you should probably follow me on twitter.

The absence of books (or, sadness is an empty library)

This morning I went into work and found out that the person for whom I had done the translation - for whom I had gone into work early - had had it translated by someone else as well. I have zero problem with this, understand, but when the email that came with it said "I could learn something from it" I confess I had to suppress just a little jolt of rage when the educating document had five errors in five paragraphs. The number of errors in mine, though I am loathe to admit it, was 0. I do not object to second opinions, but I object strenuously to those opinions being thought superior to mine when this is patently untrue.

Not a great start, you'll agree, but it got better quickly. I filed some cheques, I ran some errands, I located the memo with all the days off and put them into my agenda. I'm really excited about May, we have a five-day weekend so I'm tempted to grab the rest of my days off and make it a ten day holiday. Who'd like to suggest somewhere for me to go?

The afternoon was given over to settling into my new office. I should have been at a French lesson, one of only two a month, but unfortunately the teacher was ill, so I was at a bit of a loose end in the afternoon until H, my supervisor, asked me to update my little technical plan with the electrical sockets that had been found after the shelves had been moved. I trotted down and my goodness me, that room is a cold, empty cavern without books. It echoes. The roof seem suddenly very high and the walls very far, and it was unsettling in the extreme. I made my measurements and left Echo by herself.

Returned to the bosom of my lovely little office, I was greeted by all and sundry from the floor. The second floor is given over to economists and other intellectuals, so I shall feel quite out of my depth, but for all their brains they're very friendly and have coffee on a continual turnaround, which is a godsend.

I can't procrastinate any more, so here is the moment you've been waiting for - a dramatic reading suggested by Paula: Taylor Swift's I Knew You Were Trouble.

Please forgive me.

I'm working on something else, but for the moment - and I use this word in its widest possible sense - enjoy.

Fate drops hints like I drop plates. Rarely, but with gusto.

This morning seemed to start badly; I was hoping to see an old friend named Alexandra for the last time before I return to France, but unfortunately she cancelled on me at the last minute. I decided to head in to town anyway but was half an hour late for my train - it had taken me longer to unpick the stitching on my new suit than I thought it would. In any case, I arrived at about 10.15 and strolled gently up the hill, pausing at a small coffee shop on the way and considering bestowing my custom upon them.

I had decided to sit, drink a coffee, and read a couple of new books recommended to me by my friends the Crouches. I decided to eschew this particular establishment in favour of the old fallback, Nero's, and as I arrived so did Alexandra, from the opposite direction.

The circumstances that had led to her cancelling on me had since been rectified, and she now had 45 minutes to spare - we could have our coffee after all. It is odd, however, that had I not come into town anyway, had I not paused at the earlier coffee shop, I would have missed her entirely. I had no phone on me; she could not have contacted me. It is peculiar that circumstances conspired in such a way.

Just to ensure that the message was clear, I met up with another old school friend immediately after bidding goodbye to Alexandra. Her name is also Alexandra.

I do not believe in the inherently flawed notion of Fate, and the odds of my meeting an old school friend who is employed close to where she lives are actually very likely. It is only from inside the system that it appears random and therefore astonishing when I meet, par hasard, two old schoolfriends of equal beauty and charm called Alexandra.

All on a day when I'm wearing a new charcoal three-piece suit and looking absolutely topping.

It would be nice to believe in Fate, because then I could say with reasonable enthusiasm that it is clear that my next relationship will be with someone called Alexandra, because beautiful and charming Alexandras keep dropping into my life. Believing that would ensure I remain on the lookout for Alexandras, even Alexandras who aren't as charming or as beautiful as my good friends, and from there the prophecy becomes self-fulfilling.

Luckily I have no truck with such things, and so my next relationship could be a Mary, a Kate, or a Paula.

Or an Alexandra. Just because I don't believe in omens, it doesn't make them untrue...

Suited and booted

Firstly, I'm going to write about something I didn't write about last night because, quite frankly, I find it all a bit embarrassing. Last night as I came back from the Crouch household, full of soup and cheese and companionship, I encountered at Orpington station a young lady who seemed the worse for a drink and in the company of two officers of the Transport Police. They had managed to wring from her that she was getting off at Tonbridge, and since it is on my way I volunteered myself to them and promised that I would ensure that the girl - Cassidy - would get off at Tonbridge, as they were understandably a little worried that she was going to pass out on the train and find herself in Hastings.

For this small act of kindness, we were allowed to sit in First Class, and Cassidy rambled at length about her family, her studies, what she hoped to do with her life - and before long we had arrived at Tonbridge. We disembarked, I handed her to her mother, who seemed equal parts suspicious and grateful, and then I caught a train five minutes later which brought me home. Entirely unremarkable, but having mentioned this to my mother, she mentioned that this girl was probably known to my sister. It is constantly startling how small the world is.

Today has been an absolutely brilliant day; I confess this at the beginning because some of the feedback I have received have used words like "negative" and "ranty", and so I am laying my cards upon the cliché and saying that this could well be a cheerful and positive blog.

The reason for this is because I went suit shopping with my parents, and am now better off to the score of a gorgeous charcoal three-piece suit, four shirts and three ties. And one of the ties is a white paisley pattern. They look absolutely spiffing. We also bought my dad a new suit, which was brilliant, and both suits came from Suit Direct at Ashford Designer Outlet. We were served by a guy called Jack, who was fantastic and also liked my new tie knot. He mentioned that it looked "different" to his boss, who loudly pooh-poohed him, and since the guy was absolutely right I strolled over and showed my lovely knot off. There was universal bewilderment and an apology was rightly offered to Jack. They are all, apparently, resolved to working out how to do it, as is Francis, and I promised a video demonstration.

So here it is.

I should point out that this knot works best with a thinner tie; not narrower, but thinner. Avoid stripes as well; they tend to go in all sorts of weird directions and before you know it you're wearing something around your neck which would give Escher a migraine. Otherwise, as I said, have fun with it, and if you wear it in your office or out and about do let me know, because I'd love to get feedback.

That's how my day went; it started with coffee and a chat with an old friend again (I arrived dressed normally, she dressed ready for the gym. She was going straight to the gym after seeing me, but I should love to know what anyone watching thought.) and ended with new clothes and an explanation of my aesthetically pleasing necktie knot. And there was fried fish in between.

How could there be ranty or negative after that?