Oh man. Friday

First up and because I can't wait to share it with you, here's a video about what happened after those Happily Every Afters:

On the one hand this guy is just fantastic, and the lyrics are intelligent and sharp. I'm sure he only did it because it scans, but BP hasn't been British for quite some time. So, you know. Not our deal.

Secondly: onwards to Friday. Fridays are when the whole school winds down in preparation for the weekend. That's great for the school, who look forward to quitting at half four and escaping to their homes and loving families.

Me, I have more private lessons to teach. Teaching puts me in a great mood, and I love it, but kicking about while other people breeze past singing "au revoir, bonne weekend !" is absolutely no fun at all. In addition, for one reason or another, work is thin on the ground at the moment. Nothing drives me barmy like immobility, but I asked all around me and rien. So I started planning my interview and realised that I was being a crazy person and stopped.

However, having this time will allow me to work on some sort of project to invigorate the new Language Hub. I'm actually considering some sort of one question - fifty people thing. You know, like:  It's long, but totally worth it. 

My question - for those students of mine who read this, you'll have a head start - I think the question will be:

No, thinking about it, I want it to be a surprise. 

Speaking of which, my friends Kate and Mary got tattoos. She blogged about it, but don't tell me what they have if you read it. I haven't, and I intend to be pleasantly surprised tomorrow.

Speaking of which, I need to get stuff ready for tomorrow. I'm going to Versailles tomorrow, and the weather currently looks foreboding.

P.S: The blog about my flowers mix-up got retweeted by +Arena Flowers and I've got hundreds of views, so a huge thank you to the social media team there for making my ego practically unbearable today. It's appreciated, and your flowers are brilliant.

Versailles tomorrow. Pictures to follow, though possibly not that evening, as I can see myself going straight to bed. So there should be a blog on Sunday. 

I'm going on an adventure!

Planning tomorrow's jaunt, for which I shall be leaving at the unnatural hour of 7 ante meridiem, has got me terribly excited. I've looked up places to go and things to see, been bitterly disappointed by the fact that my favourite looks like it'll be closed and found myself once again confounded by the French fondness for just shutting everything for two hours at lunchtime.

Still, there also seem to be plenty of good eateries, so I'm looking forward to a delectable lunch. The early morning will be interesting and hopefully I'll get the chance to take an early breakfast when I arrive. There seems to be an awful lot to see there including big clocks, various museums, and a cathedral or three. There will probably be lots of pictures, although I can't promise a post - I know I shall be absolutely dog-tired.

Anyhow; that's tomorrow. Today was a slow news day - at least in the morning. In the afternoon, this tweet appeared in my timeline:

I like PR; I'd like to see myself in it one day before long. It's storytelling by any other name and, like a rose, is still as sweet. I like to portray myself as cool, calm and collected. I like you all to think of me as the pinnacle of effortless charm, poise and grace, un maestro di sprezzatura if you like. So it will benefit me nothing to tell you that upon reading this tweet I jumped out of my chair and said a word that my mother told me oftentimes not to say.

Nota bene - For British readers, don't forget that Mothering Sunday is this weekend, and if you've not got anything yet there's probably still some sad looking flowers or a dog-eared card at the petrol station. It's far too late for me. But you still have a tiny chance. Go. Go now!

So having fired off an email to the man in question and received a full job description in reply, it turns out that the company is looking for an intern whom they hope to turn into a full time employee, and at this point in my life I can't really drop out of university and hope all turns out for the best. There was a time when I did exactly that, but I'm older and just a little wiser now - in part because when I did, it didn't, if you see what I mean.

However; I am nothing if not tenacious, and I've sent emails in French and English asking for the company to consider me for an internship of fixed duration. I don't know if I'll get it - that advert will have been answered by a minimum of 200 actually graduated francophones, some of whom will be naturally bilingual, but nonetheless - nothing is gained by doing nothing.

As I sent the email last thing on a Friday night I don't imagine I'll get anything back before Monday, but  I'm going on an epic trip tomorrow and planning lessons all day Sunday so I'm not going to have any time to worry. That's the plan, but I daresay I'll find half an hour to chew on my fingernails. Even in the depths of panic, I know how to schedule my time.

As I packed my things away to go for the weekend, my neighbour popped his head round the door to mention he'd be gone for a week. I asked if he was going anywhere nice, and he pretended to think about it.

- Cap-Vert, he said at last, grinning.

Cap-Vert is a string of islands just off the coast of Senegal, 14 degrees above the equator.

Rouen suddenly looks less awesome.

In case I don't do a blog tomorrow please accept my apologies in advance, and have a picture of a man who looks like Ant and Dec at the same time. 

Can't be unseen.