Thursday 27th – Sunday 30th Oct
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| Les womans in Le Mans #grammar |
Recovery after Spain was moderately bleak, and merged into
one long house-cleaning, clothes-washing ritual of four days. Riveting stuff.
Monday 31st Oct – 1st Nov
The gentle pits of despair post-Spain were getting to me, so
another change of scene was required: I fled to Le Mans, a nearby(ish) town for
a stay with some other university friends. Yes, more of them. Who knew I had so
many? It was a random choice of location based on geographical convenience
between the three of us and so we had few expectations… Apart from someone
telling me to “look out for the big F1 track” (they know me well, clearly; sports
facilities are always my first go-to sightseeing priority!!!). This meant we were actively impressed on
arrival – possibly because of the crisp clear blue skies and the most welcome croque monsieur I’ve ever been served –
but I am yet to be bored by colossal town squares full of beautiful pale
buildings and friendly cafés.
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| The Pinterest House |
And then – and then – we
checked into our last-minute AirBnB choice and realised just how fortunate the
entire set up was. Vincent, possibly the friendliest man I have ever met, welcomed us into his (what can
only be described as) palace. I must apologise for the lengths at which I am
about to describe his rooftop apartment: an impressive array of plants tumbling
off shelving units, globes and a sculptures and a large map of early London
spread across a wall. We had no doubt that this man was our cup of tea (notre
tasse de thé?) – from the vintage mojito recipe placard behind a stash of
twenty-five special edition liquor bottles, to ‘60s records lining the walls, to
Jane Birkin posters and wall hangings (tastefully) propped up behind the sofa (“she
is just a goddess!” he informed us).
I genuinely felt like I had stepped inside
the Pinterest app itself as he showed us round the kitchen – low-hanging
lightbulbs on turquoise cords, and a small yellow bus that was actually a
charging station. Jars of farfalle and multi-coloured candy canes lining the
glass cabinet tipped us over from “woah” to a feverish “this is a potential
life goal standard of home”. Vincent, we will be returning. A* in interior
design for you, Glen Coco.
A slightly disturbing cold bolognaise put a dampener on the
evening meal excursion – and an even more disturbing array of costume-clad
French teenagers reminded us that it was in fact Halloween and this had
completely passed us by. So, for the first time since I can remember, I did not
dress up for, nor celebrate, Halloween in any form. We instead drank some wine,
shared our most disturbing stories from our time abroad so far (wouldn’t you
like to know) and went to bed. Quite early.
A rushed panic to catch my train home resulted in an
inevitable but nonetheless painful moment wherein I lost any capacity to speak
French under pressure (seat number confusion, obviously). To my dismay, just
before I dissolved in a pool of my own sweat in the aisle, the debacle ended
with an eight-year-old asking me (with remarkable complacency for someone who
looked young enough to be an extra on the Teletubbies),
“Oh… You’re English?” and then translating for me the confusion of
which-seat-is-mine. Not fun, very embarrassing, and not okay that such a young
child was so full of intimidating sass and eye-rolls. Just because you’ve clearly been conjugating
verbs since the the minute you were born. In, like, 2011. No grudges held here.
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| Gratuitous shots of Vincent's place (thanks Anna) |
There are leaves everywhere and it’s such an autumn cliché
but I’m becoming fixated with them, covering all the paths and roads in a fiery
red carpet. So in a moment of healthy November delirium I stopped on my way
back from the station and picked one up: it was perfectly intact and about
twice the size of my head (no, really). I then stood up and realised an old
lady was staring at me. My reputation continues to be on point – I think “Clumsy
British Leaf Girl” suits me well, personally. Does leaf-pressing work the same
way as flower-pressing? If not there is a leaf inside my teaching textbooks for
100% no reason and knowing me it’ll rot and crumble and then fall out of the
pages in the middle of a lesson in three months’ time. Good luck explaining
your way out of that one, Future Lou xoxo
SO:
Clouds: I want Vincent’s apartment to be my own but it isn’t
and never will be, I have started to stash bits of tree paraphernalia in my
apartment, and I got an accidental private translator but he’s barely out of
the womb and that feels demeaning.
Silver linings: Le Mans was another idyllic area I’ve been
lucky enough to see, and we booked an AirBnB palace by mistake.
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