My last weekend was full of culture and booze and so I'm feeling inspired to write my monthly entry. I had my two best friends from uni (Mesdamoiselles Skilbeck and Jones) to come and stay in my little flat, which is still in a complete state. C'est la bordelle as the French would say (bordelle being a whorehouse, hmm...). We managed lots of alcohol-related things at night and lots of Parisian things during the day (well, the afternoons). The unnecessarily long episode in H&M doesn't really count but apart from that we did the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame, the Louvre etc etc - all very nice. Touristy weekends remind me why I'm here in this cool place!

Change may be afoot with all things job-related - WW are keen to tempt me away and they may yet be successful. The location of the office might just do it on it's own - 5 minutes from the Eiffel Tower at WW compared to commuterville hell at the skyscraper district La Defense if I stayed at Mercer... Haven't yet spoken to the big bosses at Mercer but think they're likely to be a bit annoyed - oh well!

Final piece of news is a bit more exciting - bought tickets yesterday for the Rock en Seine music festival at the end of August in Paris. Only 70 euros for two days, and the set list is as follows:

http://www.rockenseine.com

Not bad I'm sure you'll agree!!

Pictures from my weekend to follow as soon as the picture uploader thingy decides to co-operate...

And so life begins...

Life after exams that is. Back in Paris tonight after two and a half weeks of joyous last-minute revising in Manchester and two exams, both of which could have gone a lot worse than they actually did. Of course that doesn't at all mean I'm going to pass, just that they could have gone a lot worse... Had enough faith in myself to leave all CT4/CT8-related pieces of paper back in Manchester though - not having to resit those two would make my summer. My suitcase still managed to weigh almost 30kg coming back though - not sure how that happened. Just one of the many daily perils faced by girls everywhere I suppose...

Fabulous welcome upon arrival at Roissy Charles de Gaulle - my suitcase went missing and I had to go to the Services Bagages (what a misnomer that is) and speak to some dolt called Mourad who looked like Manikai/the guy off the Halifax advert. One hour later they finally found my suitcase, and it arrived on the conveyor belt thingy open, with all my stuff displayed for all the world to see. This was just because the guy couldn't be arsed to take me to the unloading bay and pick it up from there, where I could have sorted everything out with a bit of privacy. I managed to close it again, it stayed closed for about 15 minutes and then broke again beyond all hope of repair. Had to do three trips up four flights of stairs to get everything up to my flat!! Found that my lovely friend Becky had sent me loads of Cadburys chocolate when I got back though so seratonin levels were quickly restored :)

Off to do the boring unpacking/getting ready for Monday morning routine we all know and love now. It's ok though. Exams are over. Weekends are back. Life is sweet.

I know, I'm rubbish...

I really should have made the effort to update this blog before now, apologies to all. The cricket has just finished though and the only other things on my to-do list today are the laundrette and CT8 revision, all of which has led me here.

Went out last night to a Pays Basques-style evening with a girl from work and some of her friends. Food was fab as usual; thought I'd get my recommended weekly allowance of meat all in one go (no innuendo please) so I had a massive plate of various cured meats to start, then steak with fried foie gras and gratin dauphinois potatoes, followed by tropical fruit salad. Two words: Y UM... Loads of songs being sung/shouted the whole time (we were in a big hall eating at long tables), the kind oft heard at rugby club socials and the like, except in French of course. I was the only person in the whole place who didn't know the words! Then some boys at one end of the room stood on the tables and got naked. Then we went into a basement area and listened to a band playing Basquais ska punk. Then I had to endure 2 hours of French retro-pop shite at the 'discotheque' which followed the band. All a bit random as you can imagine... Finally got home about 4am and am now feeling guilty for not having done any work with less than 3 weeks til the exams.

God I've really got the fear now, writing that last sentence has somehow made it all very real... This could be exactly the kick-start I need for a productive day's work. Am still going to help things along with a can of the French equivalent of Red Bull - inexplicably called Dark Dog. I say inexplicably because the dog on the can is yellow! Maybe they're referring to his soul...

PS In other news, the French for fold-down seat (like you get in the metro) is strapontin. I thought that was quite funny...(bloody French)

Slippery slope this blog malarkey

STOP! This is the Empire of Death!

Not my blog, of course, no, ha ha ahem. That's what's written above the entrance to the catacombs in Paris, a huge underground cave system which filled with the bones of 6 millions Parisians (thought I'd start with a bit of culture before the inevitable descent into general lowbrow ramblings). They had to put all the bones in the caves after the largest communal cemetary in the city burst in 1725. Literally - into people's cellars, dead bodies everywhere. I put a lovely picture of some bones up there to really demonstrate the French sense of humour in action - arranging the skulls in hilarious patterns. Not at all disrespectful to the dead.

Well this is my first post, hello to all who find themselves here. Following the usual infallible model this blog will probably consist mainly of culture-shock rants, silly photos and links to random websites that I come across during my travels. Hopefully the novelty of this whole thing will last long enough for me to dig out some funny pictures of Gartside to add to the ever-growing collection.

The name of the blog comes from my favourite street in Paris by the way, Road of the Fishing Cat. My second favourite road in Paris is in the gay district - Bad Boys Road. This city is cool.

PS Quite an odd picture to put on my first post I know - I'll try and find something a bit less freaky for the next one! (So guess the Gartside pics will have to wait a bit...)