BECOMING FRENCH

It's been a month and a half since I arrived in my little FrenchVille. I'm here on Erasmus, and whilst your immediate response to that is probably "wheeeyyy, partaaaayyyyy!" I can assure you that that's hardly the case - partly because this FrenchVille prides itself in maybe 3 clubs in total (at a push) and partly because the dance floors in any of the three only start filling up around 3am *shock, horror*. Seriously, whatever happened to good old beauty sleep? When that question comes from a notorious insomniac, you know something's not quite right.

Anyway, my habits are slowly slipping toward the French stereotype - I've scorched my inner arm on a fresh baguette I was clamping under it whilst trying to balance my coffee and open our french windows to enjoy my breakfast on a balcony overlooking the classically white streets of FrenchVille. I've taken to red wine, which I am now perfectly happy to drink on my own whilst buried in a romance novel, intermittently savouring a slice of camembert or two. I've began slipping French words into English and my blood no longer boils at the sight of paperwork. Cigarettes are the one thing I can't imagine succumbing - they still smell crap and yellow teeth haven't become any more attractive.

But I can do a year of this, yes...

[Images: 1. Musselssss, mmm who'd have known I'd get so into these squidgy little things. 2. An average evening of mine, fashion "reading", strewn clothes and his love notes on my window]