Oh here I am. Well, I’m off to The France tomorrow, to do some piano playing, some sitting, some reading, some marking of essays, and loads of red wine drinking. At least that’s what I’m expecting to happen.
I’m off to the southwesternest bit of France you could try and go to, and yet the forecast is for rain for the first three days I’m there. I don’t know the rest of the forecast. The last time I went to the south of France, two years ago, it rained quite a lot and was mostly quite cold. The previous time I was there, a couple of years before that, it was cold. To be honest, I think the south of France being a nice warm place to go is a big elaborate lie. Really elaborate, the kind of lie which many thousands of people have been cultivating for all my thirty eight years, just to annoy me on the rare occasions I get to go. Come to think of it, I visited my Auntie years ago a bit more central, but still pretty much in the south of France and it was mostly bloody freezing that week. “It was roasting last week” is something I’ve been told every time I’ve visited.
It really is quite a spectacularly elaborate wheeze, think of all the film I’ve seen over the years of that area and how warm and sunny and lovely it is. All that footage must have taken ages to film, with loads of faked bits of France built and shipped to warm sunny places just to be casually filmed in the vain hope that one day I’d see it and slowly begin to build my false impression that it’s nice down there. It’s not. It’s sometimes a bit nice, but mostly cold and often rainy.
Ah, but fuck you, elaborate hoaxers. I don’t even care, but more than that, I don’t even like it when it’s hot. It’s rubbish. I’m hot at the best of times (settle down ladies) so a little bit of sun is way too much for me – you won’t find me moaning during the Spring and the Autumn, mark my words. I’m happy with the temperate climate that we’re offered in the UK (and clearly the southern Francers are also offered, despite the lying filthy hoaxers). I’m comfortable with it cooler (though, like anyone but farmers, I’m no fan of the rain) so I’m relatively pleased with the forecast for the rest of this week. What would I do in scorching sun anyway? I’d just be wanting to get out of it! I’m hardly going to take my lumbering overweight body to the beach and show off my one-pack am I?
As long as there’s cheese, bread and copious amounts of affordable yet delicious vin rouge, I’ll be happy, sun or no sun.
Don’t worry, I’m not going mental, I just thought I’d mention that I’m going away for a week, and I might blog every day about it, I might not, I might do a picture blog every day and I might not. To be honest, I’m still in the thick of this mass of work and will be for another couple of weeks, but I’ve been missing this grey box that I’m currently writing into and thought I’d dust off the metaphorical typewriter and push myself into doing something whist I’m away.
Of course, we might be in the middle of nowhere and there’s every chance there’ll be no WiFi for miles around, so I might post ten things at once after I’m back. Just wait and see I suppose.
Sorry I’ve not written much recently, it’s been (and still is) mental. Back to the waffle sooner than you care…