I bring you this post from somewhere in the middle of the Channel, due to the sheer fantasticness (definitely a word) of Brittany Ferries and their Internet@Sea. Yes, that’s right, I’m on my way. Armed with numerous cards wishing me well, a pretty teapot, a leopard print scarf and a teddy named Edward, I am about to embark on the next seven months of my life.
Obviously I am also armed with more practical things, like clothes, and money, but the sentiment attached to those isn’t quite as strong…
If you had spoken to me a mere two days ago, you would probably have met a quivering mess, declaring that she categorically did not want to go away for a silly Year Abroad in silly France with silly schoolchildren and silly French people talking silly French, and who had asked her mum to come to the port with her because she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her at home. Now, however, well, I don’t know. Everything has (touch wood) gone fairly smoothly so far, and I’m no longer dreading the time ahead. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly looking forward to arriving in Caen by myself and being picked up by a headmaster I’ve never met before, but I’m not dreading the idea. The thought of going no longer makes me want to be sick and cry by myself in a corner, which I suppose can only be a positive thing. In fact, had it not been for my mother bursting into tears at the ferry port in Portsmouth, I would have been completely tear-free (and even then, they weren’t mine, they were just on my shoulder…).
No, I’m determined to take everything in my stride, and try to not be all GemmaLouise about things (i.e. a bit neurotic). Outwardly, at least, I will be the vision of calm, unfazed by the people suddenly expecting me to speak a foreign language at them, and will breeze through these first few weeks with no hiccups whatsoever. OK, so I’m not that naïve, but at least if I pretend then the moments when I’m trying to remember the French word for “curtain”, or inadvertently telling the bank manager that he has a large bottom, will be done with charming and cute confidence, causing a mere comic interlude which I can refer to in my anecdotes. Or that’s the plan anyway.
In other news, the nice welcome man on the Ferry already thought I was French, so clearly my accent is OK.
Bisous! xx
jtm
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