We went to Italy on sunday to partake in some pizza and tiramisu. It was bloody lovely. And it would seem that Italians are just bloody lovely in general too. I was really quite overly excited to find that I could understand the Italians with ease even though I've never attempted to speak it in my life. It was then that Raph pointed out they were all speaking in French. The clever devils! As soon as I've mastered French I'm going to learn Italian to return the favour. And eat more tiramisu.
I also bought a flower and named her Monica.
Raph still isn't convinced shes real but I will effortlessly prove this by killing her through negligence within the month. A shame really as I do actually love her. Poor Monica. RIP. (In advance)
We've moved back up the mountain top now the snow has melted. Its a different world in the summer, especially just now in between the touristy seasons of hiver and ete. Like a ghost town. But in a tip-your-hat-to-nature-heavy-duty-good-times way.
For instance, today I saw only:
a marmot twice,
a giant carnivorous ant,
a good few hundred buzzing creatures,
and twenty odd birds (although it could've been fewer flying in circles to trick me).
a tractor digg,
a baby cry,
a mother sing,
I like mountains. And nature, on occasion.
I like mountains. And nature, on occasion.
*Thats the wind, init.
Now that I'm a fully fledged driver of cars I get sent out in them regularly to do errands. Mostly in an old as time itself peugeot since I got my Mini rights revoked in the slow wall incident. I'm starting to love this old bastard though. Even though the gear box likes to pop into neutral on roundabouts and it smells a bit like bins after someone left one in it over the weekend we're getting on pretty well. It doesn't run its self slowly into walls anyways so thats always a plus.
Although I'm largely loving driving myself about changing gears willy nilly and singing my fucking heart out, today and yesterday I've been faced with the perils of cloud driving. Driving through clouds is just a part of life when you live up an alp but I never realised how fucking nerve racking it is until I had to do it on my own. Thick fog + sheer mountain drops + recently qualified drivers are just not a jolly mix. Throw in a thunderstorm, spontaneously steamed up windows and a bird shitting on me (well, the poor peugeot) all while while I try and over take a double length arsing cow lorry in the death lane and you end up with me having a break down.
Think I'll have a wee cuppa before I attempt to go back down. And a cry.
Been a fucking age since I've wapped oot a wee What I Wore, and seem to have suffered in the preportions department for it. As folks will happily tell you I do have a exceptionally large head (in the physical sense) but I'd like to hope its not so large as this. It's to house my big brain, init.
As a wee aside, I'm trying to get back into the habit of posting regularly again - instead of just talking rubbish on facebook or twitter or out loud to myself. I do apologise if gets a bit bedraggled and erratic round these parts while I find my rhythm again. Fear not, I'll buy you a shit-hot cake and a coffee to make up for it.*
*This might be a lie.
A little ode to Raph's and my own love of talking shite to each other (him in French, me in Glaswegian).
Just a quick merci, thank ye and danke schön to Kitsune Noir for the very very lovely post about my shit, before I forget for the 2,657th time. And also to a Mr Alan Atchison, an amazing wee number who stopped my friend and I on Woodlands road to show us his belter of a painting. Brightened up our evening so it did. Merci Alan.
And merci also to Bret and Jermaine for melting both myself and my sister (and possibly the frenchman a little) into a puddle of joy, even from all the way back in the nose bleeds section. Ya fucking dancer(s).
Have a good weekend bitches! x
That's me back in France again after.... (drumroll, init) actually passing my fucking driving test. Hurrah! Now that that bucket of shite is over and done with I can finally get on with my life and get let loose on frenchy roads. So far french roads are alright apart from everything being the exact opposite of the test I just passed, but its ok, I'm dealing with it. What seems to be harder for me to grasp, apparently, is that now when I leave a car I am responsible for it and really shouldn't bail out with the keys still in the ignition and the engine running just because French 30 Rock's about to start on the tele. The worst so far was when I managed to not really fully apply the handbrake on my boyfriend's brand new mini, resulting in it rolling slowly slowly slowly into a fucking wall. He wasn't amused.
But yeah its still alive (with barely a scratch) and so am I for the time being, hurrah encore!
Anyways, to celebrate being back in the lovely burny sun, heres a few final Glasgow highlights to reflect on fondly.
THE BRIDGE OF KELVIN
THE STATION OF TRAIN RUTHERGLEN
I miss it already. Even the rain. OK, thats a lie. The rain is shite but Glasgow's still amazing.
ps. My scanners on holiday still hence the poor effort not-scanned-drawing. Desole.