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.
Watch this space.
Montana
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