So I’ve landed myself a summer job! Hooray. While
it may not be quite as lucrative as a job working at this summer’s
Olympics (whilst, I might add, reaping the tax-payers’ money), I’m quite
chuffed with my fairly acceptable £6.25 hourly rate. I will, as many a British student is accustomed to do, be serving Britain’s finest as they wine and dine on Champagne and smoked salmon crudités in some of London’s most exquisite settings.
While ideally the plan would be to turn my room into a jungle of clothes with all this new-found argent, I’ve decided to curb unnecessary materialism in favour of my impending YA in Paris. I’ve
decided when I’m out there - besides learning how to cook snails and
frogs legs - I’ll have to buy myself a couple silk scarves to wrap
around my head as I ride on the moped of my Parisian beau Jean-Pierre,
just so I don’t stick out like a sore thumb amongst the locals. And I’ll have to stop using such typically British idioms. So essentially this money will be my survival tool when it comes to embracing the French way of life.
Plus,
travel expenses don’t pay for themselves and if I’m going to be in
France for a grand total of 12 months, it’s important that I go beyond
the capital. I’m thinking the “sunny south”, working as a
tour guide on the Dordogne, or perhaps serving cocktails on a beach
along the French Riviera as I whip up an enviable tan, meet charming
Frenchman numero 2 (adieu Jean-Pierre) who will whisk me away to his
chateau, perfect my accent and teach me the hottest slang. And Bob’s your uncle - I’ve got a 100.00 average on my French Oral come September 2013. Oh, I do love this imaginary life.
Watch this space.
Montana
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