Les Dieux parmi les hommes

 Christmas is over and done - puppy-filled and heavenly since you ask - and life has moved on to more athletic things, aka a nice weekend in Nice.  (Sorry, it had to be done, but I've got it out of my system now so if you're not too disgusted you can feel safe about reading on.)  Having become a bit of a Toulon fan whilst living here, my loyalty was sorely tested when they came up against Cardiff in the Heineken Cup.  Yes,  that Cardiff, with Sam Warburton, Alun-Wyn Jones and of course, none other than my future husband, Leigh Halfpenny.  I have decided that no one should be allowed to be that good looking on a rugby pitch - it's hardly surprising Cardiff were thrashed given how distracting he is.  Toulon are pretty much immune to this, having trained with Jonny Wilkinson for some time now.  (I know, Jonny Wilkinson and Leigh Halfpenny on the same pitch.)  Cardiff clearly just need some more practice.  As do Wales apparently.  After our horrific annihilation by Ireland I now can't bear to listen to any Irish music or even see an Irish person.  I'm also plotting Jonathan Sexton's assassination and would quite like to bitchslap Peter O'Mahoney.  I may need to start taking this rugby malarky/Leigh Halfpenny perving a bit less seriously.

However this is highly unlikely.  When Leigh heard of my Mediterranean location he decided he couldn't bear to be apart from his future spouse, so promptly signed for Toulon.  Unfortunately, he won't start till next season, by which time I will be crying in an Oxford library.  He obviously didn't get the memo that this is a year abroad, not a lifetime so I imagine he'll follow me back home after a season or two.  You've probably realised that he's a bit obsessed with me, it's not the other way round, promise.

Anyway, back to Nice.  It's such a cool city, nearly as gorgeous as Leigh in fact, if that were possible. (Fine, I will shut up about Leigh)  Lucy, Rhiannon, Sam and I all packed off bright and early to bright and lovely Nice.  After a walk down the Promenade des Anglais we abandoned Lucy and packed off to see these beautiful boys:

Ok I just have to say one thing - he still looks good with a shaved head! And just to prove we did something cultural that didn't involve staring at gorgeous men in short shorts:

Russia comes to France!  Having never been to Russia I was very intrigued to explore one of the few examples of Russian Orthodox architecture outside of its native country.  It was everything I hoped for - dark, mysterious and completely nutty.

We even went to a museum so I think there was enough to prove that we aren't just here for the drinking.  Obviously, the views were just incredible.

So we decided to ruin it by taking selfies.

And check out my amateur photography!

Deep.

In all seriousness, Nice is an amazing city - beautiful and fun but also very relaxed, it's going on the 'live here at some point in my life' list.

Since then, my life has mostly revolved around the 6 Nations and the Fantasy League that we've created.  Oh and job-hunting in Italy, the world's most depressing task.  Ideas appreciated that preferably don't involve children - I may want to murder them by then.  But yeah, Fantasy League! (My priorities are so straight)  Despite my hefty first week lead, I have taken a bit of a dip in the rankings so I will have to resist the urge to expel all Irishmen from my team to avoid further humiliation.  I have also been busy planning a mini break for 8 of us during our vacances d'hiver.  Let's just say that car hire for under 25s is stressful.  Hopefully it'll all be worth it though, I need to maintain my jetset lifestyle after all.

Finally there is something rather disturbing which I feel needs to be shared.  I have decided to seriously limit my wine intake.  Given that half of this blog seems to be about how much I drink I am slightly worried that I'm far too boring a person to be sober but it's a risk I'm going to have to take.  I seem to have reached the stage where I get crippling hungover without being crippling drunk.  Extremely unfair as I'm sure you'll agree.  Until fairly recently, when I woke up feeling like truck had driven over me several times, it was as a result of being a bit too merry the night before, and I at least felt that I thoroughly deserved it, after recounting the previous night's embarrassing events in my head.  (Note to self: getting horrendously drunk in front of your students is a very, very bad idea.  In my defence what were they doing out on a school night?)  However feeling the same way without having been even tipsy (I have witnesses to prove this) is just annoying.  Sobriety it is, so if my next blog is even more boring than usual I hope you will forgive me.  Although knowing me I'll be off the wagon in no time at all.

Please send some 'get dry soon' vibes/prayers for Somerset - looks like I'll be coming home to this: