I learned my basic French on a brief job cutting wood in the Lot Valley for cash in my early twenties. Long story but I’m glad of that job when I look back. I learned tools and language and social skills, and fuck me was I an awkward bastard when I was a teenager. Not like now, eh? Now I’m just so socially capable, like the social ninja of social, never looking like a lemon oh no oh goodness no. But yeah, I learnt something even if I can’t remember any of their names.
Marianne Faithfull wrote a song about driving through Paris in a sportscar, as if it was something to aim for. Awkward teenage Al was driven through Paris in a very fast car but it wasn’t open top, and I never really think about it as anything clever. Today I was in a Luton van and it was just an annoying drive really.
Every fucking vehicle in Paris has damage on it. Priorite à droite doesn’t really work. They all just try and drive through each other. Nobody has any compunction about blocking lanes, they undertake and overtake suddenly and without need. It’s not as bad as Saudi. It’s worse than London. By a long way. London – not counting the South East – tends to have a certain honky politeness. They will insult and intimidate you but they won’t just drive at you so much, like they’re the Terminator. “On your right, in the right, right? I’ll be right.”
I’m back in my little hotel room. I like it here. It’s beige. There’s nothing but my clothes and a shower that smells like cat wee. But … it’s mine, and last night my god I slept well. I woke up naturally at half five, put myself back down for just an hour and then got up and entertained myself before wandering across the road and helping chop up some timber. My only annoyance is that there’s no kettle. I don’t want to be spending on coffee anymore. It’s a trap.
I’m surprised how quickly I’m remembering my conversant french, but with very little time here I’m finding there are ways I can really be helpful in that regard. There are, of course, a vast majority of French people working here. Then there are many other nationalities who share English but have very little French. Another façon in which I can add value. And if I’m in the warehouse much longer I’m very much hoping I’ll have to cover a forklift before the end of the month, even supervised in a quiet moment. Useful skill to have. Better if provable, but we learn by doing.
Anyway… bedtime.
AlBarclay 