syinlyon

it is time

2006-06-15T13:10:00.000+02:00

for a break

organisation

2006-06-14T16:43:00.000+02:00

one of my favourite things about the french remains their capacity, willingness and even desire to organise events, demonstrations, fund-raisers, parties, entertainments, surprises, clubs, trifles, barbecues, outings, picnics, trips, rehearsals, transport, gifts, big things and small things. among all the clichés about the french being complaining this, bolshy that or arrogant t'other... - let me add my remarks: having spent nearly seven years near, around, through, within and with these people i can only take off my hat to the un-flinching, devoted way that they can make a lot of stuff happen; especially for each other. vivent les froggies!

bluegrass to greengrass

2006-06-14T16:31:00.000+02:00

24 little hours it took.
magick.

astrology

2006-06-13T21:31:00.000+02:00

you know how sometimes you're reading your horoscope and it promises things like "a turbulent love affair" or "a new professional opportunity" and you sigh and you say to yourself "fat chance!!"????
well i haven't looked at my horoscope for months.
stuff, my dears, is happening here. i'm so inside i can't remember what bored is, but i promise i hanker after it.
well, a bit anyway.
the grass, as they say here, is greener at your neighbours....

scrambled head

2006-06-13T19:03:00.000+02:00

what do you do when you can't sleep, think straight, or remember what the will to live feels like?
apparently a cup of tea helps.
especially when it has been preceded by a gong fu ceremony, a sort of mystic exercise mixing tai-chi with the most pedantic way of making tea i've ever witnessed.
life seems at least bearable, and quite pleasant knowing that it's only gonna get easier.

and i'd like to congratulate antoine, for finishing what he had to finish.

and thanks to all my friends, for your inexorable indulgence. it staggers me. you overwhelm me.

pub quiz

2006-06-07T12:17:00.000+02:00

sometimes life finds a way to let me know just how useful i am.
last night i needed to escape all the noise of the flat.
for the first time since i've been in france, i drove to "the smoking dog" a pub i've frequented on -and-off for the last few years.
sitting at the bar was an old drinking buddy, and ex teacher/barman, Mark.
with a shaking of hands as i sat on the stool next to him, we formed the beginnings of a team.
three other blokes arrived and suddenly we were somewhere near ready to start.
the first half went ok, but we didn't know that "phasmaphobia" was a fear of ghosts, nor that it was Lindsay Davenport who described playing against Amélie Moresmo was like playing against a man.
i was also surprised to discover that a Norwegian prince gave the final speech in "Hamlet".
when the second half started i decided to start putting together my "fantasy football team" for the competition in the pub.
you have 50 million (pounds?) to spend and you need to buy a keeper, four defenders, four midfielders and two strikers. you get points for goals, clean-sheets etc.
while i was busy doing this the rest of the team got on with the rest of the quiz.
apart from jumping in to give the occasional wrong answer, i was about as useful as a bunch of flowers in a life-boat.
the team, "our" team won. thanks mainly to Mark.
Mark also managed to choose the hand that Clare was holding the coin in (the final challenge) and so we took away 200 euros.
the first time i've walked out of a pub richer than when i walked in.
which was nice.
and possibly the lowest i've ever contributed to a quiz team.
which is, i believe, a fair reflection.

bubble

2006-06-06T17:34:00.000+02:00

stephen soderbergh.
a low-budget, low-acting naturalistic work which manages to hold a mirror up to american nature and tell a cracking wee story at the same time.
if you can, see it, as there's not much else worth the entrance money at the moment.

girl in polka dots

2006-06-01T19:33:00.000+02:00

with a profile smile

i have no talent for certainty

2006-06-01T19:15:00.000+02:00

In "Ronin" the film, the Robert de Niro character says "If there is a doubt, there is no doubt". Jesus suggested it were easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.
Lao tseu said this, Crowley wrote that, blah blah and blah

If I have managed to do anything these last few days, it is to realise what a mish-mash, cobbled-up, mongrel bastard parson's egg of a scrambled association of dictons, maxims, citations, quotes, pet-theories, east-west cornucopias of various seeds of thoughts et cetera
my head is awash with
awash with crap.
bundles upon piles upon bouquets within rashes over scatterings of adulterated, half-digested bollocks.

But then again, après la pluie....
oh shut up!

marie antoinette

2006-05-24T16:43:00.000+02:00

a real disappointment.
i suppose the film was supposed to cross genres, to break ground, to poke a finger in the eyes of some sacred cows.
it just looks messy.
the crowning moment was the return of the modern sountrack (slipped in front of us at the outset, then withdrawn, bizarrely) and the sequence where our eponymous hero lets her hair down (and has it stacked up in a beehive) and has a bit of a girlie session with her mates.
i found the few ounces of empathy drain out through the champagne fountain.
a dire film.
real purgatory.
and the worst of it is that it's sophia coppola who made it.
so you have some sort of expectation.
in the end you get a sort of mish-mash of all the worst bits from the musico/mexico "romeo and juliet" and "my best friends wedding" in period costume.
a real composite bastard cast with rip torn, jason whocares and kirsten dunst being americans playing french.
marie antoinette has a daughter who, interestingly, is french.
there's matthieu almarick, or whatever he's called, who has such a small rôle he hardly deserves a credit, and steve coogan is flat. flat like old beer.

either there's something i don't get, or this film is the worst pile of tosh ever to go near the coppola name.

shame, real mongrel shame with knobs on.
it lasts in the memory about as long as a big mac

recipe

2006-05-23T22:47:00.000+02:00

one me.
one ripe hangover.
several large slabs of memory loss.
three cancelled classes.
several thousand brain cells on strike.
a smothering of brain cloud.
tears.
a couple of films.
two chapters from a book.
some news from an old friend.

marinate the manchild with all the ingredients.
avoid any good news.
let it all mull over from dawn till dusk.
then do not eat, resolve, improve or tinker.
leave to develop.

i think i might call it a "pootandeboredelldummaird"

beer scooter

2006-05-23T09:04:00.000+02:00

sometimes the blanks appear.
last night i got home.
i'm not sure how.
the beer scooter is a mythical device which explains the unremembered.

polity

2006-05-20T17:44:00.000+02:00

commenting on the f'nch relationship with politics is like explaining the concept of, say for example, "nostalgia" to a parrot using only a salmon and a pair of swimming goggles. but i'm going tp try.
the following clichés are not gospel truth, but may help give the non-f'nch blogreader an idea (if such a person should ever visit this page)

politics is to conversation as heat is to cooking
non-f'nch politics is to be avoided, as bringing it up in conversation is regarded as rude and a bit show-offy
left-wing = roll-your-own cigarettes and nostril hair; right-wing = psychopath/catholic, boat shoes and sun-tan
it all boils down to a decision between "libérale", which translates (roughly) as "capitalist" and "sociale", which roughly translated means, well, "French"
if the person you're speaking to is under 40 and libérale, it means they've spent time outside France
the f'nch talk about France in the same way as parents talk about their children (or their parents; if they're a little senescent and beginning to smell a bit)
you don't get any points for agreeing with anyone about anything: this spoils the game
politics is no longer about ideas, it's mainly about people
politicians who talk "langue de bois" are corrupt
politicians who don't talk "langue de bois" are unelectable
there are usually 47 reasons why something is "wrong" or "bad" or "won't work" or "rubbish" etc.
it's seen as high-level f'nchness to defend an unpopular position
unpopular positions are defined by with whom you are talking/eating
which came first: the inexorable meal, or the interminable conversation? coincidence or evolution?

in reality politics is no more popular with the french than beer is with the english. it's a simple social mechanism that fills in time while we move on to more interesting things like....well, if we knew what was next each time we sat down together we wouldn't need to talk shop, would we?

oh all right then

2006-05-18T11:24:00.000+02:00

there's nothing like being beckoned back on stage for an encore.
it gives the old ego a boost.

i've just stepped out of the shower and i feel ready.

i'm back.

fin du début de la fin du début de la

2006-05-02T19:55:00.000+02:00

hugo's finished. i'm running out of steam too. caz, chab and ms mepp seem to have let things settle. there's a wonderful sense of syncronicity. i've enjoyed it. what's next?

very forgetful

2006-04-27T01:12:00.000+02:00

ok, i've been attempting an a to z.
in reverse.
and i've managed to miss out a letter.
oops

quality

2006-04-26T19:58:00.000+02:00

a wonderful word to sum up the french nation, french people, products, ideas and everyday communication. it doesn't matter what they do, they simply do it better. it's an obsession. it's marvellously deliciously indescribably (for an outsider) good. it's france, and it's what makes it the number one destination in the world.

revendication

2006-04-26T19:31:00.000+02:00

a request from one dissatisfied group aimed at "the powers that be".
often combined with a little strike and put forward on a little social platter as an entré (starter)
the main course consists of negotiation, more striking, huffing and puffing
the cheese course is negotiation failure
the dessert is not usually taken, as everyone knows that all the interesting bits come before
the coffee is bitter
then everyone goes away, sleeps a bit, then comes back for more.

i imagine this is how it's happened for quite some time, as there's a whole glossary of terms you need to know and little customs you need to follow in order to integrate the process and "feel f'nch"

sex

2006-04-26T19:12:00.000+02:00

my uncle's idea of a french film is called "un homme et un pomme (sic)" and involves lots of moodiness and not much action. for me the f'nch cinema industry is a theme and variations on willies and fannies getting together. when i came to france i simply assumed that f'nch folk spend their lives doing each other, eating, talking, smoking, arguing, sulking, fighting and then doing each other all over again, but in different combinations.
i thought france was just a huge porn film with large gaps for eating, talking (see list above)...
maybe it is, but if i bought it on dvd from a shop, i'd take it back and ask for my money back.
but it has been known to come up in conversation.
all talk, less action.

tripe

2006-04-26T19:10:00.000+02:00

either you think it's the "emperor's new clothes" in food form, or you love it. let's say it's often an acquired taste

ump

2006-04-26T19:04:00.000+02:00

popular political party conceived by professional politicians in order to stay that way. occasionally demanding a little democracy to oil the wheels, senior members are required to follow the following complex set of rules:
1) don't rock the boat
2) pretend to rock the boat, then refer to rule #1

several years of high-level study are required to fully assimilate this agenda

wc

2006-04-26T18:57:00.000+02:00

sometimes a hole in the ground with little ceramic foot-spaces which guarantee that when you plop, you miss your trousers. a special favourite in cafés, bars, municipal outhouses and campsites. tourists find them amusingly quaint. desperate tourists find them...and then look elsewhere.

xenophobie

2006-04-26T18:44:00.000+02:00

an interesting situation. xenophobia exists almost everywhere. in france the situation has developed into a problem. my pet theory is that as france is an employment state, without the entrepreneurial ethic (see URSAFF website, and you get an idea of the level of "encouragement" for paddling your own kayak) which is prevalent elsewhere, people are dependent on getting a job. add to this the high level unemployment, the absence of positive discrimination, and the "piston" method of finding work through connections and you get a sort of undesireable set of parameters which stop minorities from getting jobs. this creates friction, and reinforces stereotypes. vicious circle.

yobs

2006-04-26T17:04:00.000+02:00

interesting how the f'nch word for yobs, "racquaïlle (phonetic guess)", can cause so many problems. apparently it all depends who's saying it. if you're white, there's an understanding that you mean not-whites, and if you're not white it just means "yobs". in any case, if you're called nicolas it doesn't really matter what you say, as journalists will be able to find a quote from a guy called jean-marie saying the same thing and then you can whip up a cartoon of a small man carrying a truncheon or handcuffs or goose-stepping or a combination montage assuring your compatriots and neocompatriots that they can relax: the man on the right is the bogeyman and cannot be elected. this is quite amusing for british people as the word "yobs" inspires images of young cream fac'd loons wearing doc martens and hindu tattoos putting bricks through windows and marching for the national front... not dissimilar to the cartoon of nicolas, in fact

zeitgeist

2006-04-26T12:54:00.000+02:00

ok so it's a german word but it gives a flavour of what can happen in france.
what would be imperceptible in other cultures is more profound here. i suppose it's related to the quality of communication which infuses the french with an ability to influence each other quickly and for movements to swell up. what we saw with the first job contract protests was a celebration of this: the "ras de bol" spread throughout and inflected itself into two different branches - those who fear the legalised pigeonification of the young and refused to see this as valid, and those who saw the protests as a wholesale investment in cloud cookoo. the stage is set for a unifying force. where that force will come from and how it shall emerge are the cliffhangers in this wonderfully tempestuous phase in the tale of this dear wee republic. what prospect awaits?

last night at the flicks

2006-04-25T11:50:00.000+02:00

"Le Petit Bulletin" is a free newspaper which often points film buffs and wannabe buffs in the right direction. their article on oss117 surprised it's readers when it sang the praises of the new film, a james-bond-meets-clouseau spoof. after watching it last night the rave review became all the more curious. the film is laboured, the jokes are easy, the pastiche genre has added nothing new to it's range. there are funny scenes, jokes and moments, but not enough to deserve your 9 euros.

the secret life of words, however, is a moving portrait of a relationship between two characters, incarnated completely by tim robbins and sarah polley, their personal battles, and those of the other people who choose to stay on an oil rig when all their colleagues have left (following an accident). the story is simple, the plot also, and the stories of the central characters unwind as their rapport develops. i cried twice and upon leaving the cinema felt moved, humbled and completely satisfied with the form, content and telling of the story. a major film.

banana smoothie

2006-04-19T16:28:00.000+02:00

bananas milk crème fraîche honey blend serve drink yummy

fourteenth x 4

2006-04-15T13:31:00.000+02:00

yesterday was a good day.
the sun came, people smiled, work went well, home went well.
and in that time, without aiming for it, i managed to do 4 things for the first time.

i'd been watching "jamie's kitchen" with my clients, and i fancied trying a little recipe from the program.
jamie oliver took on fifteen young unemployed londeners and trained them up to work with him in a new restaurant: "fifteen".

and i copied his recipe for salmon and boiled veg.

i made my own mayonnaise.

i burned a cd (yes you can also say burnt).

and i did something else; the action too personal to be explained here.

one day, four new things.

my mojo's back.

stuff

2006-04-14T01:46:00.000+02:00

sometimes life surprises me.
the whirl of confusion seems endless,
the answers won't come,
the mind flits,
the head loses all control,
and then,
when it seems impossible that the mental climate will ever settle,
it does.
welcome to springtime,
sunshine,
and maybe,
just a wee drop of fun.

nothing newd

2006-04-13T17:54:00.000+02:00

stag weekend

2006-04-11T13:12:00.000+02:00

so i arrive in England and go out for a bite to eat with m'dad and i order vegetarian lasagne and that's all cos i'm being good and they bring this fat plate of chips and spuds and i eat all i can and i realise i'm on a pig farm and i got a curly tail.
then bed then i awake at about 4am and my nose is confused and i'm confused and there's bits everywhere and i really need to tissue it all up.
i get up and my right nostril is drizzling like a busted seal and my right eye is crusted over and blurs everything and i need to get to matt 'n' ali's cos the blokes are off to manchester.
and i'm sitting drinking guinness with this sodden ball of bogroll crammed up the tap and my eyes are peeled onions.
we're checked into the hotel by a Nice person and i realise what i miss about england.
the room's huge and cheap and central and we meet in the bar and tim and ross and matt and neil and we roll out the stagginess and i'm sort of perking up.
then it's "apéritif" time in the pub and we sit outside and i can't believe matt's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and nowt on top and it's not very warm. at all.
then we need some scran, so it's off on the food trail, i change my bung from time to time and we find "frankie and bennie's" and it's a chain restaurant, but the food's just what we need and i order salad and i'm the only one.
we keep drinking beer and we go to this clublike place and this english bird wants me to beat her boyfriend at pool and i do, somehow, with one eye and a lot of luck but we've go the table now and we have a big game of killer.
eventually the eye opens and i'm getting drunker and i win a couple and tim and me decide to retire and leave the big boys to it and i sleep. well.
i lie in next morning and it's saturday and matt texts me to tell me we're meeting downstairs at ten and i really fancy a bath before breakfast and i fill the space with all my crap and towels and clothes and i make a coffee which i don't hardly drink when i go down for a fried heaven fat filled breakfast and i pour the orange juice in a mug cos the glasses are mum-sized and comically insufficient to dilute the beer i'd sunk the night before.
wobs and tim-from-bev join us pre Grand National and we drift off.
matt's WEARING A SHORT-SLEEVED SHIRT again and i ask him why and he tells me he prefers cold to hot.
we get a FREE BUS to the station and i marvel at the idea.
the train is pretty full and i'm still not 100% but i'm on the mend.
in the beer tent at the race course, well near the race course, there is no nice cup of tea and no croissants or nmadeleines and i want to order mineral water, but it's not cold so i take a beamish and i'm away again.
we shuffle over to a more central part of the race course, but it's still a little peripheral and there's a girl in a smart dress eating fried food on a polystyrene tray and i wish i had my camera.
i lose on every race and it's cold and all i can find to eat is a mediocre cheeseburger.
we head back to manchester and eat some and drink some and i go to bed by half ten and watch golf for half an hour then i fall asleep and get up and pig out and go back to nafferton, and the ride is accompanied by a pleasant chat with tim-matt's-bruv and i get home and m'dad's toiling.
m'dad loves toiling, it's a verb i'll always associate with him.
i'd like to think that if i had a garden and things to do i would toil, but i wouldn't.
so we watch golf with richard and my favourite player from when i was about 12 is doing well but he yips out and i feel for him.
then i'm up again and off to the bank but it doesn't work and we go to get scholesy and we're off to doncaster and we have a quick lunch and i'm off on the train.
i get talking to a lovely woman from salisbury who'd been on family visits and we talk a little about brazil and i end up harping on about language learning and i hope she wasn't too bored.
i do my psychic thing on the train to stansted and it's fun.
i'm on the plane back to lyon and i'm talking to this franco-englander from lyon and leicester and we swap ideas on a few things and it's pleasant.
i get back and cé is here with a pal and i'm pleased to see her and happy to be back in mi cama and i'm happy with my weekend.

new decade, new thing

2006-04-03T16:17:00.000+02:00

sometimes when i get blocked i just need to write anything that comes into my head.
the problem with lingering perfectionism is that my reality falls short of my perception.
thus the blockage.
that and the fact that i've been through the sort of life changing phase which leaves me windless, shaken, unhinged and incapable of telling my story. incapable, 'cause i'm not quite sure who i am anymore and how i am.
what i am sure of is that now i'm part of a 2, and so my intimity has become our intimity and so i have to reflect a little more before i release the details.
it's been so long since i've really felt "in" a couple, that i've forgotten how it all works.
being adored is child's play! seduction: you can learn it from a book.
but going beyond basics is a real head-shaker. how do you deal with what comes after?
the third-person conditions like Jealousy, Insecurity, Self-doubt and Ungovernable Paranoia have shifted to the first person.
and it's really weird and embarrassing.
the battle against ego-mania has taken on a whole new dimension.
i feel bizarrely inadequate, therefore the "I" is reinforced.
so i'm just trying to deal with it.
and i'm getting there.
slowly.
and at the same time i want to tell you all how good it is.
and it is.
but i'll just leave out the details, if you don't mind....

analyze this

2006-02-26T11:02:00.000+01:00

since monday i've been observing myself.
it's a difficult exercise, as i have a tendency to let the mind drift onto other matters.
so i did less.
when i would've watched a film, i went for a walk.
when i could've read a book, i sat in a chair.
when i started thinking about work, i let myself; as one allows someone to finish making her point before speaking oneself.

at one point - just for a few seconds - i was observing what i was thinking about and the words disappeared. there were only sensations.
in those few seconds i sensed something.
i started learning without naming, thinking without becoming, understanding without classifying.
and in that mini-moment i wasn't teachering anyone, wasn't judging or assessing.
I wasn't.
or I nearly dissolved.
nearly.
where there was an Ego Sum, an ego appeared.

witches' hats

2006-01-28T17:50:00.000+01:00

we put up some shelves.
we attached them to a plaster wall.
we used "witches' hats", they're plugs which flair out as you screw in the counterpart screw.
one shelf fell down during the party.
i bought some more witches hats.
half of them didn't work.
it took me a long time to put the shelves back up.

the witches hats i bought were cheap and it cost me (at least) an hour's extra effort because of the lack of quality of the plugs.
not to mention the stress and frustration.

if you find yourself in the same situation, buy quality witches hats.
it's worth a few extra quid.

happiness

2006-01-18T11:01:00.000+01:00

in 1776 America's Founding Fathers declared "the pursuit of happiness" to be one of man's "unalienable rights".
Herodotus saw happiness not as a subjective state but as a "characterisation of an entire life that can be reckoned only at death."
the greeks spoke in terms of fortune and fate, but the modern idea of happiness is relatively recent.
christians.
again.

here are two different perceptions of happiness:

Ego-altruism

"Those only are happy, who have their minds fixed on some object other than their own happiness; on the happiness of others, on the improvement of mankind, even on some art or pursuit, followed not as a means, but as itself an ideal end. Aiming thus at something else, they find happiness by the way." John Stuart Mill

pretty effective as a default mode, but if you want more you could try..

Optimumism

according to Krishnamurti, it's possible to train yourself to be permanently happy.
not gratified.
happy.
you can do this by continually observing and analysing yourself.
in a detached, indifferent way.
i do this and i do that.
why?
because of x and y.
ok, next!

this process can take a long time to integrate.
it's slowly filtering into my habits.

i'll keep you posted.

i welcome your imput, as i'm a novice in the ways of happiness

party

2006-01-18T10:05:00.000+01:00

i invite eligible persons of quality to a party to celebrate the arrival of our new flatmate céline.
on saturday.
at the flat.

meek

2006-01-13T17:26:00.000+01:00

adj. gentle, willing to do what others want.

i had this word in my head just after my shower this morning.
meek symbolises, for me, jesus and his teaching.
"meek" isn't trendy.
"meek" is just a grandparent of "loser".
"meek" sucks, but..

..what if christians are right?
buddhism teaches the value of non desire.
taoism the value of non-action.
maybe pigeons understand where people are too busy to.
the pursuit of power and control, the perpetual arm-wrestle in search of what?
maybe the jackpot is not when the coins drop, but when you don't wan't them to.
maybe life is about giving in when you don't need to; knowing the game and losing.
jesus was such a loser: a paragon of the piscean age.
now we're in aquarius and what happens?
we win.
maybe winning is cool, too.
but losing is awesome.
"and the meek shall inherit the earth"

however...

2006-01-06T16:22:00.000+01:00

...i still find time to waste.
today i've seen two films.
"where the truth lies": porno-chic
"the constant gardener": bobo gets bananaed

the first is a murder mystery.
a mainstream double-act from the united free states are involved in the mysterious death of a ginger/strawberry-blonde bird found in a bath.
colin firth and kevin bacon characterize a grotesque pair of clichés.
the plot thickens to a market-researched thickness.
a (beautiful) journalist finds the truth.
what saves the film is the objectivity.
people who like fucking will come away reassured.
people who don't will come away reassured.
i'm still undecided.

next "the constant..
pretty good parable underlining the futility of well-meaning types faced with the might of "perfidious" albion and her agents of doom.
ralph fiennes and rachel wiesz are appropriately unattractive.
a wonderful man-wife-marriage sub-plot nicely twisted.
shame about bill nighy (playing bill nighy).

meanwhile, back in france...

2006-01-06T16:12:00.000+01:00

..back to work.
3 days.
1 lesson.
faffed about with forms, papers, stamps, r.i.b.s (bank slips) phone calls, schedules, post offices, banks, cancellations, discussions, sociable chats with other people's students, the boss, emails, voicemail, preparation, article selection, article translation, reorganising papers, filing.
and yet.
three days.
one-and-a-half-hour's paid work.
spot the lesson.

night out with the boys

2005-12-30T13:01:00.000+01:00

i wish everyone had a friend like richard.
in driffield, yorkshire, everyone does.
and his name is richard.
20 thousand people.
one richard.

and so a night out with the richard is quite a treat.
especially when accompanied by his intimates: john and p.j..

learnings:-

single men act married and married men act single.

british men exchange jokes, stories, reminiscences, innuendo and opinions.

jokes are often about sex.
but sometimes about foreigners.
and are usually funny.

british people must be funny.

as Kate Fox has pointed out in "Watching the English", you should avoid being "sincere" or "earnest" with brits.
it's just too embarrassing.

anyway. last night's line-up:
original keys - "that barmaid's giving you the eye, sy". ribald humour.
the star - pool results 2:2. relight my fire.
original keys (again) - general conversations.
the winston churchill - an argument about the attractiveness of a blonde. p.j. gets put down. richard is embarrassed.
hooters (a night club of sorts) - dancing with youngsters
adrian's cabs - drunken chat with people awaiting transit. chips passed around.

it was fun.
driffield is a friendly place.
but it helps if you know richard.
cheers boys.

fatter, boreder and irritabler

2005-12-29T13:09:00.000+01:00

day 8.
waiting for my dad to come home.
at which point i'll not have lunch.
not play golf.
not go shopping.
and not smoke.
i've put on six pounds (2.5k) since arriving.
i had my last fag 67 hours ago.
and i'm a bit touchy, crabby, sore and short-fused.

presents i got

2005-12-26T11:27:00.001+01:00

a solitaire game
a golf bag
a toiletries bag
a red jumper
a green polo shirt with cord collar and elbow patches
some tweezers
pens (black and blue)
mint chocolates
darts
a torch
tennis balls
a link on k.m.'s blog
a ruler
4 books (system of the world; funny letters; browning; santos)
a rounders set
a bottle of fizzy wine
chocolates
a card from beccy
joke golf balls
dogville dvd
foam rockets + launcher
bubble bath
page-a-day golf calendar
brother-of-the-bride cufflinks
a multi-pic picture frame

some essential, some whimsical, some for now, some for later, some nostalgic, some touching, some comic, some completely useless (and so essential).
sometimes i get cynical about the whole deal.
but not today.

it's my mate ben's birthday today.
i've been trying to imagine how it all works when you have a birthday so close to christmas.
i'm still wondering.

christmas eve at matt'n'ali's

2005-12-24T23:24:00.000+01:00

the warmest house in beverley, yorkshire.
a communion of choice people.
i'm home here.

4 connexions and a hat

2005-12-23T18:14:00.000+01:00

trains. a meeting. cigarettes. a lost hat. a chat about a book.

optimism is not about the future.
it's about the now, and how the now is as good as it gets.
this little discovery came on the back of an excelling train journey.
trudging through the ventilation in stansted station, i was heartened to see.
on a bench.
next to a lady of a certain experience.
appended to an off-white jacket and wavy chocolate hair.
a face.
an arresting face.
a happy face.
cheerfulness jumped through me.
but it was been and gone so quick as to risk it's passage being posted to the nether lands of memory.
we set off.
a problem with a suitcase.
a fumbling remedy.
a stop in cambridge.
a coffee and a chat.
a numb head.
dark eyebrows. brilliant eyes. aqualine nose. wise teeth.
unhinged i was. (hinge = charnie`re)
i have a boyfriend.
changed trains.
fags between platforms.
4 becomes 5.
kinder chocolate.
doncaster.
cadburys almond and honey.
facing forward.
analysis of bodylanguage.
blog yes?
ok.
hull.
bye.

thanks rach(a)el.

lost in transition

2005-12-22T12:30:00.000+01:00

i've just had an avocado and chicken sandwich from an eaterie called "pret a` manger"
i'm now sitting at a qwerty keyboard.
so, no accents but at least i've found a €
marvellous isn't it....
€ £ $ ....hmmm mohoenaaay
i'm in stansted airport filling time.
the sandwich was bland.

awaking the dragon & fanning the fumes

2005-12-20T14:04:00.000+01:00

thursday night.
a chance meeting in the street.
old acquaintance.
the smoking dog christmas party.
too much guinness.
a quick kip.
a hard morning.
a frosty lunch.
the merchant of venice.
toulouse - edinburgh in the st james.
a party.
ich kann deutsch.
a dance with a dancing girl.
an embrace.
a hangover breakfast.
a laughing fit on the sofa.
bourguoin - leinster in the st james.
louise going out.
astrid going home.
chacha's nap.
dinner at pamela's.
the kgb.
the trip home.
sunday morning in les halles.
antoine going home.
beaujolais sauce take two.
panic.
marc & guenola.
marie.
a lovely chat.
hugo's lovely servings.
bed.

palabras

2005-12-15T13:28:00.000+01:00

hay querido hacer un pocito de mi blog en "castillan" - la version simon
no sey si puedo, pero porque no?
esta maniana hacia me shopping con el sit "riviera americana" punto "co" punto "uk" donde hay encontrado una lista por me hermana alison y su novio matt.
noël e, a hora, mas simple: no tenemos una obligacion de estar locos, nerviosos.
la vida, mas bella?
quicas.
menos complicada?
seguro.
con el informatico el mudo e pequeno.
me encanta
viva la mundialisacion!

découvert

2005-12-10T18:50:00.000+01:00

ce matin je me suis levé avant sept heures.
c'était même pas dur; je n'avais plus envie de dormir donc je me leva.
ceci fut étrange, car ça fait longtemps que le weekend existe en demi-morceaux.
j'avais tellement l'habitude de sortir que mes weekends étaient conjugués différament.
alors me voilà
un matin
un samedi
dehors
je me dirégea vers les halles, histoire d'acheter de quoi à manger.
comment faire?
j'étais tellement surpris par mon état vérticale que j'avais oublié les normes sociaux.
alors je tourne
et je tourne
comme un brave français qui cherche une place pour son âme à essence.
gaté par le choix, je trouve enfin quelque répères et je dis mes adieux à quelques billets
les bras allongés, je rentre chez nous
alors, qu'importe si j'ai raté la sauce beaujolaise?
j'ai claqué du fric??? pas grave, car l'argent du matin est
est plus....
est plus Noble
je suis en pleine conversion, messieurs dames.
je.
péte.
le matin.
je repéte le Matin.
la nuit.... c'est pour les gamins
"God save the morning!"
Viva la maniana!
Morgen unendlich!

get translated

2005-12-08T14:38:00.000+01:00

recevoir
obtenir
recevoir un montant pour la vente de qlqchs
aller chercher
recevoir une punition
recevoir une chaine de tv/radio ou service d'internet
acheter
recevoir une note suite à un épreuve/un examen
attraper une maladie, suffrir d'une douleur
avoir quelqu'un/ qqchs au téléphone
devenir
rendre (qlqn [adj])
arriver à un état où tu ressentis/sais/ es etc. qlqchs
faire faire ou persuader qlqn de faire qlqchs
"get sth done" compléter ou faire completer une activité/tache etc.
commencer à faire qlqchs
avoir l'occasion de faire qlqchs
arriver à un endroit ou lieu
se diriger vers, ou en provenance de, un endroit ou dans une direction partiulière, parfois difficilement; faire bouger un tiers ainsi
prendre un bus, taxi, avion etc.
répondre au téléphone quand il sonne ou ouvrir la porte quand on y frappe
attraper/chopper qlqn, en particulier pour lui faire mal ou le punir
toucher de manière violente, ou blesser, qlqn
piger
prendre le dessus sur qlqn
ennerver qlqn

the joys of get

2005-12-08T14:17:00.000+01:00

I got quite a few things from Caz when she moved out, among them some lovely paper which i decided to write on this morning. i sat in the kitchen, which gets very little sunshine in the morning.
i got some christmas cards while i was in barcelona. i've just written one for a friend who lives in london: i hope she gets it before the 25th.
yesterday i sold caz's mezzanine for her. i managed to get the asking price: they didn't haggle. my dad has taught me about buying and selling things and i'm beginning to get the idea, if you get my meaning. i need to go and get some stamps as i've used up the ones i had. they're so expensive that i'd like to rob the post office to pay for them, but if the police got me i'd get ten years in the click.
i've been reading "the economist" quite a lot lately. eclerc school (where i work) gets "time", "newsweek" and "business week" and i like to browse a few articles from time to time. but "the economist" is king of them all. sometimes there are a few subtle jokes that only very clever people can get. sometimes i get my students to translate bits, and when we get into the exercise it starts getting interesting and we can get a lot done: grammar points; vocabulary; pronunciation (but not too much); idiom. sometimes it's just a good way to get the conversation going. getting people to talk is the most important part of my job. when you get it, it gets easier. i sometimes get frustrated when i'm teaching, but i'm getting used to using different parts of my brain.
it's like getting a plane: the first few times i was anxious and my hands got sweaty, but when i got over that i got to enjoy the whole experience rather than just wanting to get to my destination.
so, using "get" gets results. you might not get 900 points in your TOEIC, but "get" will never get you again!

virus? not on my watch, thanks.

2005-12-01T17:20:00.000+01:00

thursday afternoon; Five-ish.
i should be settled by a fire chomping on oranges and gently occupying the evening.
instead i'm parked in an iternet café sniffing mukey soup up my rhino and gathering together the fractions of the day. the distillation process may take some time, as my system seems to be pretending to be down (not the 'puter, the me).
this morning i was lucky enough to have a guided tour of La Halle de Lyon, a sort of covered market where the Lyonnais descend on Sunday mornings to eat oysters.
antoine gave me the lowdown on the who's who and what's what and where's good value and who's friends with Paul Bocuse. some highlights:

the best st marcellin is called "mère richard" and costs 2, and costs...where the fuck is the euro sign on this keyboard?.... comme vous êtes pudiques mes chers français....2.45
you can buy bread there from the baker's at île barbe, there's a dépot
the truffle oil at the truffle place is fly, black truffle good. white truffle italian, and good too.
baroudian do the best spices and a reasonable selection of bits and bobs from all over
you can get a st marcellin with dried grapes and it's called "gène" but the woman said it was called st marcelin with grapes but yes you can call it gène if you like but i prefer st marcellin with grapes me
she also had an argument with antoine (A*) about the amount of time cheese should be allowed to "sit" before eating: A*) two hours. woman) no! one hour's fine.... well an hour and a half then if you must
andouillette is available in travel-friendly vacuum packing, so you can "surprise" your friends at christmas or maybe a special occasion probably not a romantic dinner mind
something like andouillette is simarly available for people who like it porky; it's a big saucisse shaped like harry potter's scar and it has pig's head in it, yummy
you can buy a cote rotie guigal machin bidule for 200 euros if you like. mr parker gives it 100%, which is a good score apparently
roquefort flavoured mustard exists. hallelulia.
merguez flavoured rocquefort doesn't. yet. so you have to mix them in a croissant for a snack
there's a michelin starred restaurant nearby where you can have a menu consisting solely of vegetables (y'see sis!) it's called alexandrin, the resto, that is
you can only find mont dor (or is it mont d'or; the packaging was unclear) cheese at a certain time of year. it's a round cheese with a thick wavy crust and it's runny on the inside. you an cook with this
you can make your own quenelle with bechamel sauce and unstoned olives. i can't remember how*
the ham available at the spanish ham and wine shop is quite pricey; over 200 a kilo, A* says you can find it for about 60 a kilo in spain. but then every thing is cheaper in spain, apart from opinions, which are free all over the continent
you can buy sweets, but i don't mean twix and mars, i mean posh sweets for grownups

now i need tea

and do you like cricket?

2005-11-30T21:03:00.000+01:00

a silver lining: nice surprise in the hunt for a flatmate
occasionally i lose faith a little in the glorious way destiny toys with my patience
after nine girls coming to see us this month i think "am i too picky, too demanding; is there no blue in my Stilton?" (c'est un fromage anglais, les gars. et si, il est bleu. quand même...)
et puis de nulle part des messages craquantes de la part d'un éspece d'expert dans l'art de me plaire.
"....and do you like cricket? i hope you could explain the rules to me...."

bravo clém

2005-11-30T20:39:00.000+01:00

mon pull préféré... et mon Chacha

nuit blanche

2005-11-30T20:18:00.000+01:00

le travail: vrai bordel
la recherche d'une nouvelle pour l'appart: encore une nana sympa qui passe mais...
la carine: ça m'a fait un drôle d'effet de voir deux ans et quelque de colocation défiler devant mes yeux
résultat: le crâne en cycle d'éssorage
alors comment dormir?
pas moyen
donc une série compléte de Pride and Prejudice avec la ravissante Jennifer Ehle dans le rôle d'Eliza Bennet) et l'originale Darcy (oui les filles, Colin Firth qui jouea le personnage copié collé par Helen "Bollocks" Fielding)
ému je m'endors vers 6 heures du mat.
hallucinant je prends ma douche à 7 heures
3 cafés plus tard je démarre la journée de points de grammaire, conversation et textes
pas jojo mes amis
pas jojo

attraction paradigms

2005-11-26T18:22:00.000+01:00

It's Saturday morning, and my lie-in was a wanky one. Sometimes morning stiffness is too tempting to be ignored, so I went through the motions and was quite surprised by the woman I ended up phantasysing about. Which led me to thinking about all the different ways you can be attracted to someone. Eventually I came up with a grossly inadequate reference kit, but it beats the old, "I fancy you a bit, but not in the same way" type-thing.
I'll explain: You divide your time into "time-with" and "time-not-with" the person.
You give a score out of ten for "duration" and "intensity" of attraction, for when you're "with" and "not-with" the object of your desire. For example:
Mary

time-with-duration: 4
time-with-intensity: 3
time-not-with-duration: 2
time-not-with- intensity: 7

So "Mary" has number 4327

I'm sure this could be developed

2005-11-26T02:04:00.000+01:00

and this is how i was last year, with my ex flatmate.

2005-11-26T02:02:00.000+01:00

this is what i looked like in the spring

the flat

2005-11-26T01:08:00.000+01:00

hugo's just arrived, he seems a little snuffly and under the weather.
the weather: last night snow scattered down and gave us a little muffly glaze this morning.
this morning: lie-in till 9 followed by an absence of breakfast and the heating man came to flick a switch for 130 euros - i need to change jobs.
jobs: i quite like mine at the moment. i have to find some new material.
material: the flat needs a makeover, well it's getting one anyway. hugo and i are off to ikea to find some fabric to hang from the ceiling to separate my bedroom-bit from the drawing room-bit. well, sort of.

welcome

2005-11-24T18:29:00.000+01:00

to my blog,
i'm supine on a pillow clawing words into caz's laptop and i have a hangover.
this posture is the antithesis of ergonomy and i need to sit now, yes.