Nostalgia

In 2007 - 2008, I had a livejournal (yes, yes, a hangover from my teenage years... when, apparently, I decided that capital letters were démodé). And I wrote about my time in Rouen. I was about to leave when I wrote this, and I don't think my heart has been as full since. Maybe it's time to start plotting my escape...


I only have 3 weeks left here. I want to fill them to the brim with everything i love about being here. I am so lucky in so many ways and I cannot imagine my life or myself without this experience. Yes, I'm like a broken record on this topic, but it's just made an unimaginable difference to my life to have been able to come here and, well, live. I can't believe I have to leave. And as Sarah said at her birthday meal tonight, I can't believe that we haven't even known each other for 9 months yet and we're already all so special to each other.

I love speaking at least 3 languages a day. I love chattering on and not even realise I'm speaking french. I love being a regular in my beautiful tea shop and getting cheek kisses on entry and that they know exactly what i'm going to have. I love looking down into Rouen from the top of the valley. I love the breathless exhilaration of having left my old life behind, temporarily at least. I love having friends from england, scotland, ireland (northern and republic), the usa, canada, finland, germany, france, austria, spain, belgium, greece. i love fresh bread and stinky cheese. i love going to the market on a sunday and knowing exactly where best to get each different product. I love making jokes in foreign languages. I love being the pianist for a foreign choir. I love mocking the Normandy accent. I love the confidence I've found here.

If I have another year in my life as intense and eye-opening as this one in my life I shall consider myself blessed- though I guess life is as intense as one chooses to make it, and intensity of experience is what I'm always going to be going for now. Not that I haven't had shitty times, misery, pain, blahblahblah or that it hasn't been difficult to keep going and not just wish for London and an easy life- but it's those times which have made the good times all the better.

9 months ago I started randomly grinning as I walked around my new -chez moi-. I still have that smile plastered all over my face.

The Cellist of Sarajevo

The Book Diary

 All the way back in December, a good friend very kindly gave me a beautiful, red leather book. She thought I could use it to write lovely things. Sadly, I am not a writer, but being more of a critic, I have been keeping track of the books I read.

I am ashamed to admit that once, I got 100 pages through a book before realising I'd taken out of the library before. I can be a mindless consumer of books, so I have started the book diary to make myself have a think about what I'm reading.

I'll be posting my red book thoughts here.

Lucy Rose - Middle of the Bed

Yum.

More language geekery

I'm making another blog, this time one for my students. The idea will be to interview people who speak different languages and put them up as motivators for the students - some will be in foreign languages, some will be in English, and the kids can use them as texts for homework and classwork. Authentic sources and all!


If you come across the blog and would like to be involved, please do leave me a comment here and I'll get back to you. It would be great to have a diverse range of participants.

Thanks!

Owlette

Voyage au bout de la langue...

So, back for part II of my languages journey posts. It's an epic journey of heartbreak, self-discovery and joy. It made me who I am.

It's a journey I started aged 7, back in primary school when I signed up to French class, the only problem being that I was the only one. So it didn't go ahead. And I didn't learn any French.

...Until I received a Dorling Kindersley French set for birthday. I learned a few words. I was kinda interested, but not as interested as I was in reading my DK Children's encyclopedia from cover to cover, and feeling very naughty reading the 'reproduction' pages, and learning my dinosaur books by heart. (Apatasaurus: 'imagine you are up a tree. A head the size of a giraffe's pokes through the leaves...'). I was a cool child.

I continued to not learn any French for several more years.

French struggled to get a hold. All I knew of French back then was that Mum had been on a French exchange to Paris when she was at school, and obviously this made it the coolest thing ever. My budding linguistness had to wait to reach its full expression until later, at secondary school, I was on the receiving end of that glorious thing known as French class with a certain Mr Wild, who had the epic-est, French-est goatee beard I have ever seen. He caused much outrage/hilarity with his habit of pointing at people with his middle finger, seemingly telling small children to 'f-off' every time he said 'Et toooi?'. He was so epic, we even wrote the incredible 18-verse hit 'Mr Wild is weird... since he shaved off his beard' on the subject. (I continued to be a cool child.) Punishment for non-participation in French-learning songs was being sent to junior choir. I probably continued to learn very little French.

My students are constantly surprised that I learned French just like they are - starting in year 7 and continuing to climb that ladder for the next 15 years. They keep asking if I'm French, as though it's impossible that anyone from the next borough over might have any desire/ability to speak another language. I sometimes agree. But learn I did. And that, mes enfants, is a story for next time...

Dreaming spires...

Also, a post with the world's most inspiring libraries.

Looks like they forgot one, though - check out Newnham College, Cambridge, for my second home/libraryiwantinmyhouseoneday.