A list of the rampaging bizareness includes death, heartbreak, arguments, humiliation and a student attacking one of the teachers I work with. They warned me on my first day at the lycée that the students could be violent, I just assumed that it wouldn't actually happen. The teacher is now ok but I am almost grateful that I don't have long left there. (For those worrying, it's not me who has died, had my heart broken or had an argument. I humiliate myself on a daily basis so that's not really an issue here) But rather tragically, in the past three weeks my gorgeous Godmother's cats, Pallino and Mimi, have passed away. I'm already missing my cat cuddles.
To cheer me up and make up for my mostly but not exclusively self-inflicted humiliation, my gorgeous 11 year olds gave me a much needed ego boost today by deciding that I was in fact not Katie Coleman, a lowly English assistant but Katy Perry, pop starlet extraordinaire. This started with one student asking for my autograph and ended with several students seriously asking me if I was Katy Perry. Let's not tell them the truth!
Last week we said goodbye to our Gorgeous Germans who have finished their teaching careers. To mark the end, we held a German-themed party where we embarrassed them with our attempts at German and baking:
Running in direct opposition to my love of brownies I should warn you all that I have taken up yoga and am rather fanatical about it. My lack of flexibility is shocking, but at least I'm actually exercising. My teacher is fabulous - anyone left in Aix should check out www.louisahutton.com - she's amazing and has already worked wonders with my complete lack of physical ability.
Going back a bit further, in news that will shock all who know of my upsetting lack of coordination, I can drive on the other side of the road. I tested out this ability on five day holiday in Languedoc-Roussillon with eight to ten anglophone buddies. And they say expats don't integrate! The inabitants of the sleepy village of Saint Maurice de Cazevieille didn't know what hit them. And what hit them was loud music, beer pong, catchphrase and ignorant Brits clogging up the roads and bar. My histrionics at the Wales score was received with much amusement. (side note: no I haven't recovered from the Six Nations, and yes I did lose the Fantasy League, and apparently both future hubby Leigh Halfpenny and the gorgeous Sam Warburton are recovering well from their dislocated shoulders) So our nights were lively and the days were lovely, spent visiting Montpellier, Uzès, Avignon and the beautiful Pont du Gard.
At Lindsey's request we also decided that vines are far too lovely to leave alone and that much frolicking is needed. Her words not mine. As usual my lack of grace is evident:
And a picture of the gang:
As you can see the sun has started shining here and it is now so hot I can't really run in the daytime. Best excuse ever. Also I am fully off the wagon. I tried sobriety, and it was a very good idea, but then I had a few too many one night and could actually move the next day, leading to me drinking a few too many pretty much every night in the past couple of weeks. Lesson learnt I have not! I'll stop drinking back in England, at least that's what I keep telling myself. I would say I'll do the same in Italy but given that I will be working for a wine company I think it's safe to say that it's just not going to happen. Santé!
