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Oh ouiiiii!


Ouiiiiiiii!!!! [Yesssssssss!!!]


Raaaa! Là, c'est boooon! [oh, yeah! right there, it's gooood!]


encore, encoooOOOOreuuuu! [go on, go ooooooon!!!!]


A gauche... [to the left]

Nan, plus à gauche... [no, further to the left]


Plus bas... [lower...]

Un poil à droite... [a little to the right]


Là! Là! Là!!!! Raaaaaa!!!! [there! there! yeah! Oh my god!!!!]

Je t'aimeuuuu!!! [I luuuuuv youuuuu!!!]


(mais putain que c'est bon de se faire gratter le dos!)

(it's so damn fucking good to get your back scratched!)



Is England ma tasse de thé?

Interesting question, Captain.


When I was a child, England didn't exist.

No, really. I wasn't aware of its presence on this planet until I saw an Antenne 2 coverage of the Punk "movement" in London. Evening news. Just before going to bed. I was 8.


The next morning (or maybe a couple of weeks later... I'm not getting any younger and neither are my neurons...) I started bossing my mother around to get a "punk hairdo", which, in my mind, was this:

Sid V.jpg

Swell, isn't it? My mother had absolutely no idea of what I was talking about, but she took me to our hairdresser's. The old man, luckily, found a picture of a bloke with spiky hair in his newspaper. And I ended up looking like an 8 year old Sid. Except for the clothes. And I had no color in my hair: my mother had refused to dye it... never mind (the bollocks... so easy :D), I grabbed gold glitter from a game called Mako Bougies (remember this one?) and spread it on my head. When I woke up the next day, the glitter was still there and my skin had turned green. It stayed this way for about a week. I loved it! I was soooo proud!


Next thing I know, I'm 17. I've booked a room for 2 weeks in an all-girl hostel in Kensigton (punk and snob) after running trying to run away from home (and making a deal with my mother). I can't get out after 11pm and they're keeping my passport in a safe. But I can buy beer in the daytime: I look much older than I am, that's why. I feed myself on crisps and Cadbury's bars. I hang around all day. Visit museums. Buy records and clothes. Put on 10kg. Shave my head. On the sides. (Those who have seen my msn profile picture know what I'm talking about).


And I returned home.



Yes, England is my tasse de thé (since they have expresso machines, that is :D)... I've been there again since, with my ex-boyfriend, with my husband, with my best friend, mostly for week ends... I love shopping in London (don't even mention Glasgow... I know, Glasgow is in Scotland... I know... I know...)... I'm dying to visit Cornwalls, Wales and tour Scotland again (and again, and again, and again...)... But until this is happening, I could use a little of this:

Scottish raspberry jam.jpg

aaahhh! Blairgowrie... Peter Pan... ;-)




To be (or not to be) connected to the...





...fucking www...


What on earth are your options?


First, you need a very good friend you can trust with your credit card number... because you've grown a habit of paying your bills on the web. Your line is out of order (or your modem or... whatever...) you don't want other services to fail you (electricity and gas, for instance...) because you wouldn't have payed a bill...

Then, you need patience... (big lack of the stuff over here...)... a pen... a note book... a telephone (or two: one for chatting, one for texting...)... kids... a house to run... In the end, you might even be washing the morning dishes before 10am... after launching a machine with not-that-dirty clothes... just before taking a look for the ten millionth time at the modem to see if the lights are shining RIGHT... Hope is my friend... (Then suddenly, hours later, you see the famous fucking lights... you switch the computer on... check your bank account... check your mails... notify pals you're alive... switch off cos' it's time to eat -for the kids, that is- and then come back one fucking small hour later to realise it's gone again... yeah!)


In the meantime, you've been cooking, raging, laundry-ing (again), washing the dishes, cooking again, listenning to kids going wild, pretending you'd fallen asleep in the psychiatrist's waiting room (while your were simply listenning to Axl yelling on your mp3 :D)...


Eventually, you'll end up watching "Criminal Minds" while massaging your feet with hemp oil ;-)


Days (and hours) later: you count yourself lucky when you've had one hour of net-surfing a day (and been able to get in touch with the 2.0 life that suits you soooo well!) and you've started to reorganise your life (around texting, mostly :D)... you've even started to excercise, cos' you need to be in shape for the october Freak Night!