As ever, a lot has happened since I last wrote.
I went on holiday, to Normandy (my first trip away with my boyfriend, henceforth to be known as N), and we crossed the five month mark, which makes him seem strangely new, when in truth I can no longer imagine a future with anyone else.
And there was snow! After making a bid to become the next Atlantis, Paris was then covered in a real blanket. To my surprise, the trains kept running. A few lines have been closed because of the flooding, but for the most part, the systems that hold Paris together are less delicate than they seem.
At work, with my most challenging four-child all-boy family I was engaged in a to-the-death snowball fight (which did not go well for me), and then another, the next day, with the half-Russians – who, given their upbringing in a land of snow and ice, I am inclined to believe had an unfair advantage.
The snow has melted away now, throwing us back into grey skies and the threat of rain, but I am happy. In a few weeks I am sure it will start to feel like spring, and then I’ll be able to shed my (leaking) boots for pumps, and walk about the city without gloves.
It’s not all good news, since if I am honest I am struggling with university. Getting a distinction at masters is looking increasingly difficult. I didn’t do badly in my first semester, but I didn’t do as well as I’d hoped I would. This threw me into a dismal state of self-loathing, which has been a drain on my inspiration for my new pieces this semester. But I’ll get there, and hopefully with time I’ll learn to be less cruel to myself.
Certainly I’ve had no shortage of experiences to draw upon these past few weeks. Our trip to Normandy was breathtaking (and a topic for another post!), never mind the weather, and Paris is, as Paris ever was, one of the best places a writer can be.