post twenty nine - cheat

I decide to go home for the weekend. I don't have much else to do, and I have a lull in my schedule before everything kicks off, and I quite fancy a bit of my Mum's Sunday Roast. There is something about your mother's Sunday Roast - nobody else's mother quite gets it right, but somehow, your own mum makes Delia Smith pale in comparison.

I leave the M5 and head off down towards Glastonbury. I've been travelling for six hours now - it's dark, and I'm cold and tired. And then I get stuck. Stuck behind the largest tractor in the world and it's trailor. It isn't a typically slow tractor, but it stands on the way between me and the warmth of my mothers house. I put my foot down and move out to over take.

Suddenly there is a blinding flash of light and I wake up in a pool of sweat.

It was my first flashback, and I doubt it'll be my last.

At this point I feel incredibly homesick. I never thought the accident had affected me that much. Physically, I have almost completely recovered. I have lots of scarring over my body which at the moment look fierce but will fade in time. I never would have believed that I would be mentally troubled by bad dreams and flashbacks.

There is not a day that goes by, however, when I don't think about how I cheated death. I know how lucky I am.

post twenty eight - supermarket

Whilst doing a spot of laundry, I thought it would be a good idea to nip down to the local supermarché and buy myself some bits and bobs. I spent a grand total of 5 minutes picking up a baguette and some wine (of course).

However, I then spent a another 45 minutes in the queue at the tills. Why? Various reasons. The first reason of course being that someone in front of me collapsed. I was very concerned, and obviously tried to help, but being not that brilliant in French it was limited. When I stood up again, having NOT MOVED from the spot I was standing, I discovered that my place in the queue had been snatched by two old people who obviously couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone else. These eldery folks then proceeded to tell me that I couldn't be served here, and not to put my stuff on the counter!

I played the foreign card and called them a load of obsenities under my breath, whilst pretending not to understand. There was a long queue at the laundrette too.

post twenty seven - je suis en Corse..

Made it. It's hot and lovely.

And deserted. I am one of the first students to get here, but that's not a problem. Getting my room was. I must have been directed into at least seven different offices before someone was willing to help me. The system of registration here is shocking! I knew it was going to be bad but I never ever thought it would be it was, especially when there are no students here!

But I've made it, and I've been around the town of Corté, and its very nice. The wine isn't bad either!
My friend GB gets here on Sunday, so at least I'll have an ally. Trying to speak French to unhelpful office admin people doesn't do much for my confidence!

Blogger, Google et al are now all in French. Hopefully this all works!
^Corté