Remember, remember the 5th of November… 2007. For that was the day that I finished my book, watched seasons four and five of ‘Sex in the City’ and accepted a drink from a stranger in bar. I am very pleased about all but one of these three achievements.
Another first today was that I tried to make an organisation chart using Microsoft Powerpoint to decide major questions about my future. I thought it would be useful to see all of my options laid out before me with closed answer questions helping to direct me to a sensible and logical, rational and calm decision, for a change. I failed after three levels and gave up in despair. Speaking of which, I am concerned to find myself despairing so often recently.
I was greatly disturbed today to find myself humming a familiar tune. Why, I hear you ask? Well, because the song was ‘God Save the Queen’. My subconscious never fails to keep me baffled and in awe. I’m still chewing that over and will consider posting my concluding thoughts soon enough. Preliminary thoughts are as follows
a) I don’t like that anthem
I’m Welsh
I’m in
I vehemently dislike nationalism
I was humming quite cheerfully
I don’t even like humming, or people that hum. Further to that point;
I am not, repeat not, a hummer
I don’t think I have anything to hum about
I’m confident that no one heard, but if I did that again for some reason, I suspect it wouldn’t go down terribly well with the locals
I haven’t heard it for… ages. I can’t remember the last time I did
I have no, no, no desire to hear it
I haven’t been listening to music so often recently since there is a 40% quota on English-language music played over the radio, the French don’t make use of “DAB” digital radio standard but instead prefer “DAB+” (naturellement) and my PDA’s (MP3 playing device) battery keeps dying, inexplicably. This is my best explanation yet, my brain is starving for music. This particular desire, incidentally, is not satisfied by youths who currently think it fashionable to carry mobile phone with loud speakers, onto public transport and play whatever diabolical music they happened to have downloaded last night, at maximum volume without any regard for the rest of the world.
On a positive note I have started to appreciate that my haircut, whilst totally wrong for me and my personality, image and temperament, is perhaps not so horrific generally for other people of my age. On me, it’s dire but I don’t think it is so bad that people would stop and look and I think I’m in an eclectic enough city to quite effectively hide. So long as I am not making visits to people I know, I may be able to stop wearing the 3€ black winter hat I bought to hide underneath of.
I also wore my Ralph-Lauren-Noel-Edmunds striped woolly jumper today. Winter has clearly arrived. Oh and I am drinking beer quite merrily at the moment since I really cannot bring myself to pay over 7€ (minimum) for a shot of Gin and 4€ per 140ml glass of house-red-wine. The French, contrary to my presumption do not like or have available “Pernod” it seems since I’m yet to find a bar or restaurant that stocks it. Since it’s been a while since I saw the green fairy, I am considering re-discovering Absinthe but fear this may be seriously dangerous (for me as well as for others) so plan to do that closer to home.
Ah, and I am struck at how many Paris-references almost everything now seems to contain. Sex in the City is a story of two cities,
Update: I have now watched the first six episodes of series six and so only have twelve to go.