Ben Non Bar None

Grnnk nnnnng BLOG!

So what have I been up to in the last… five months, sweet lord. Has it really been that long? Memory of time is such a strange, bendy-twisty thing. It feels like I only left Brighton last week, but it also feels like I’ve been living here forever. I also feel like I have had a hangover forever, but that’s more likely the happys hours cocktails. It’s a French bank holiday today, so I’m not working - which means, of course, I drank a little too much last night and am suffering a gueule de bois or a boîte de gueule. I can never remember which way round the words go, or at least, not when I have one. If I get it wrong, I end up saying something like “ugly face box”, which probably conveys the sentiment anyway.

The reason I’m observing French holidays is that I am no longer remote-working for Magpie in Brighton - I have found myself a (mostly) French-speaking job here in Paris. I say “mostly” as almost everyone in my new office speaks English - but they prefer not to unless necessary. I can’t say I blame them, if it makes their head hurt to speak English the same way it makes mine hurt to speak French. (And to write sentences like that. Note to self: do not drink anything with a glowstick in it. Ever. Also do not attempt to drink the glowstick.)

I’ve stopped going to the French classes, as I think I’m getting more than my recommended daily dose at work - but the pain is paying off. My level (of French, if not alcohol tolerance) seems to be improving - I can now have reasonable conversations with idiots, small children, and programmers. I have occasional success with normal adult humans, too, which is heartening. I’m still quite capable of talking at ridiculous cross-purposes with people, usually in shops - like on Saturday when I tried to buy a cake but was understood to be be complaining about an overcooked croissant - but in general I can now accomplish simple tasks with a modicum of preparation and assistance.

This morning, I remembered I had a cameraphone, and uploaded a bunch of photos from it to Flickr. They are in chronological order, and I think they tell a story in a funny kind of way. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then these are worth… 67,000 words.

Other than changing jobs, I have been making and recording electronic and analogue noises and giving them names. It’s quite a strange thing to do if you think about it.

Until next time, folks. Hopefully it won’t take another five months…