"La rentrée" in French means the day you go back to school or work. "Vive" can probably be best translated as "yay for". You may be wondering whether I've gone mad, or if I just had a really shitty holiday week.
As it happens, you'd be wrong either way. Last week was quite brilliant, I wrote 2000 words on tuesday and none after that because I was planning our weekend trip to the beach. Nans, his best mate, our two girl-neighbours and me, plus five sleeping bags, endless pillows and a brand new 2-second tent, all in one car. It was fab. We set off on Friday night like before, and found the same spot on the beach as before. The waves were bigger and it wasn't as hot, and there was a funfair nearby this time.
Oh, and we'd brought the inflatable boat from last time. Nans' friend (who we shall call E - just think of all the ridiculous names he could be called now) is the official owner of the boat, and has expressed an interest in investing in a five-person one for next year.
We got back exhausted (Nans and I stopped at the cinema in Valence where, incidentally, my dad works in security, and watched an animated film while waiting for him to turn up for his shift). We were so tired that we ordered our food and I got enough cantonese rice to last me till last night.
Then, at eight o'clock the next morning, I turned up for work. I left 11 hours later, and did the same yesterday, and today. I was happy to see Claire and Kevin, who I believe have grown (it's particularly clear with Kevin, who doesn't need to be told to take his shoes off in the house any more), and touched to receive the present of two bags of toffees from Corsica, where they went on holiday (like all middle-class French families living in the south). The toffees, btw, are gorgeous.
But three 11-hr days after one very long, exciting, fun, tiring weekend at the beach (preceded by M - one of my neighbours - taking me out to a latin bar and getting me drunk on embarassingly little, even for me, the night before the trip) have left me knackered. And tomorrow, finally, the kids go back to school. Which is why I say, Vive La Rentrée !
Games we played on the way to the beach:
1) The Porn Game.
Someone says a random word, such as "car", for instance. The others have to say another, related word, each words bringing us closer to the word "porn". Eg: car - back seat - porn. That was easy enough, but try doing it with "thesaurus" or "tree" or something. Nans is really good at this game. When I said "chemist" earlier on, he said "viagra". Boys are generally better than girls at this.
2) The Alphabet Game.
You go through the alphabet, saying a word beginning with each letter from a certain category of things, eg. Countries: Albania, Belgium, Congo... (this is the kiddie's version. You can also use diseases, kama sutra positions, manga characters, horrible first names etc.).
3) The "How Thick Are You Really" Game.
Nans bought this one from a petrol station on the motorway. The game was actually a bunch of questions and answers for kids in year 5, primary school. You know, the sort of thing you learned when you were ten and haven't thought about since. You can probably get similar stuff in any country, made to spoils kids' summer holidays by persuading their parents that if they don't revise during that time, they'll forget the alphabet.
Things I learned during that weekend:
1) Boys like girlie magazines, especially those ones specializing in tests about sex.
2) Sand gets everywhere. Everywhere.
3) Three people can fit in a two-person inflatable boat. Just don't expect great comfort.
4) When I'm tired, I can sleep just about anywhere.
5) A girl can be very resourceful when cursed with tiny-bladder syndrome and no toilets nearby.
6) I'm 23, and I still enjoy the funhouse at the fairground. I'm a lot more scared of hurting myself than I was when I was ten, however.
7) Nans looks damn sexy in a cowboy hat.
8) I'm getting a bikini that fits next year. And this time, it won't have one of those flimsy plastic clasps that break just as you're coming out of the sea, too far from either deep water or your towel.
9) Even I can tan.
10) I'm officially not blonde any more. I have sunstreaked hair from swimming outdoors all summer, and they're copper-coloured. Hah!
As it happens, you'd be wrong either way. Last week was quite brilliant, I wrote 2000 words on tuesday and none after that because I was planning our weekend trip to the beach. Nans, his best mate, our two girl-neighbours and me, plus five sleeping bags, endless pillows and a brand new 2-second tent, all in one car. It was fab. We set off on Friday night like before, and found the same spot on the beach as before. The waves were bigger and it wasn't as hot, and there was a funfair nearby this time.
Oh, and we'd brought the inflatable boat from last time. Nans' friend (who we shall call E - just think of all the ridiculous names he could be called now) is the official owner of the boat, and has expressed an interest in investing in a five-person one for next year.
We got back exhausted (Nans and I stopped at the cinema in Valence where, incidentally, my dad works in security, and watched an animated film while waiting for him to turn up for his shift). We were so tired that we ordered our food and I got enough cantonese rice to last me till last night.
Then, at eight o'clock the next morning, I turned up for work. I left 11 hours later, and did the same yesterday, and today. I was happy to see Claire and Kevin, who I believe have grown (it's particularly clear with Kevin, who doesn't need to be told to take his shoes off in the house any more), and touched to receive the present of two bags of toffees from Corsica, where they went on holiday (like all middle-class French families living in the south). The toffees, btw, are gorgeous.
But three 11-hr days after one very long, exciting, fun, tiring weekend at the beach (preceded by M - one of my neighbours - taking me out to a latin bar and getting me drunk on embarassingly little, even for me, the night before the trip) have left me knackered. And tomorrow, finally, the kids go back to school. Which is why I say, Vive La Rentrée !
Games we played on the way to the beach:
1) The Porn Game.
Someone says a random word, such as "car", for instance. The others have to say another, related word, each words bringing us closer to the word "porn". Eg: car - back seat - porn. That was easy enough, but try doing it with "thesaurus" or "tree" or something. Nans is really good at this game. When I said "chemist" earlier on, he said "viagra". Boys are generally better than girls at this.
2) The Alphabet Game.
You go through the alphabet, saying a word beginning with each letter from a certain category of things, eg. Countries: Albania, Belgium, Congo... (this is the kiddie's version. You can also use diseases, kama sutra positions, manga characters, horrible first names etc.).
3) The "How Thick Are You Really" Game.
Nans bought this one from a petrol station on the motorway. The game was actually a bunch of questions and answers for kids in year 5, primary school. You know, the sort of thing you learned when you were ten and haven't thought about since. You can probably get similar stuff in any country, made to spoils kids' summer holidays by persuading their parents that if they don't revise during that time, they'll forget the alphabet.
Things I learned during that weekend:
1) Boys like girlie magazines, especially those ones specializing in tests about sex.
2) Sand gets everywhere. Everywhere.
3) Three people can fit in a two-person inflatable boat. Just don't expect great comfort.
4) When I'm tired, I can sleep just about anywhere.
5) A girl can be very resourceful when cursed with tiny-bladder syndrome and no toilets nearby.
6) I'm 23, and I still enjoy the funhouse at the fairground. I'm a lot more scared of hurting myself than I was when I was ten, however.
7) Nans looks damn sexy in a cowboy hat.
8) I'm getting a bikini that fits next year. And this time, it won't have one of those flimsy plastic clasps that break just as you're coming out of the sea, too far from either deep water or your towel.
9) Even I can tan.
10) I'm officially not blonde any more. I have sunstreaked hair from swimming outdoors all summer, and they're copper-coloured. Hah!
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