| Je souhaite que je fusse toujours en France. |
[Tuesday
September 2nd, 2008 @ 2:03pm] |
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Mediterranean sun... why have you deserted me??
I'm back! Look! ...But I wish I wasn't!
We flew into East Midlands airport midday yesterday and had to sprint across the runway in an attempt to get inside before my white summer dress went see-through with hideous British August rain. I felt like my tan had faded there and then.
The sausages squashed between two slices of stale bread that I attempted to eat for lunch just didn't live up to the saucission and fresh baguette comprising yesterday's déjeuner. And I know that I won't feel like eating dinner now that I know it won't be something gloriously knocked up by Rémy.
The English language is suddenly dull and lifeless... I crave a French accent, and a roughly shaven man making me giggle by slurring "What is ze Ingleesh for... a man oo lovvs a man? A gay?" How I miss you Medhi, Ludo et Nico...
I refuse to "wrap up warm" despite the cold weather. I think I'll just turn the heating up and shut the curtains instead. Then I can pretend I've had to come inside to escape the burning sun...
This holiday has been absolutely amazing; absolutely what the doctor ordered.
...and now it's raining on the washing I just hung out to dry!! Damn you England, damn you!
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