This week, I'm taking inspiration from some of the blogs I have links to in the sidebar.
For those of you who don't already read it and/or don't speak French, Plus Belle Ma Vie does a weekly post on the keyword searches that take people to her blog, and there's been some really wacky stuff in there. Up until now, nothing too odd's come up in mine- just a lot of stuff about penguins, marshmallows and evil sprouts. Until now, that is- I've just found out that someone got here by searching for 'tree-climbing gnomes'. Oh God. There must be two of us out there. Hello, other me!
I've just tested it, and this site is the ninth result for 'tree-climbing gnomes' on Google. I'm going to make a concerted effort to put more tree-climbing gnomes in here from now on to see if I can make it to no. 1 search result. Watch this space (but not for too long, you'll hurt your eyes...)
Showing posts with label gnomes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gnomes. Show all posts
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Is it because I is English?
Some pearls of wisdom from work:
"Oh look, Catherine's drinking tea. She's definitely English".
"Oh look, a sandwich made with sliced bread! Must be because she's English..."
"The till is...tired? You have such an English sense of humour..."
"There are cookies in the break room! Food from your country! Well, America, but it's all the same, isn't it?"
I try to smile. I try to take it all with le flegme anglais- a stiff upper lip (not sure how compatible smiling is with a stiff upper lip in cases not involving Botox...)
But inside? Inside I am SEETHING. Some of you will be aware of how strongly I dislike being defined by my nationality, a nationality I have accepted for administrative ease: my preferred options of 'British' and 'Catholic' (I assure you, in terms of cultural identification, I find the latter term to be more applicable than 'English') do not work in France.
And as far as my sense of humour goes, I find the idea that the entire English population has the same slightly warped and gnome-based take on things as I do frankly disturbing.
"Oh look, Catherine's drinking tea. She's definitely English".
"Oh look, a sandwich made with sliced bread! Must be because she's English..."
"The till is...tired? You have such an English sense of humour..."
"There are cookies in the break room! Food from your country! Well, America, but it's all the same, isn't it?"
I try to smile. I try to take it all with le flegme anglais- a stiff upper lip (not sure how compatible smiling is with a stiff upper lip in cases not involving Botox...)
But inside? Inside I am SEETHING. Some of you will be aware of how strongly I dislike being defined by my nationality, a nationality I have accepted for administrative ease: my preferred options of 'British' and 'Catholic' (I assure you, in terms of cultural identification, I find the latter term to be more applicable than 'English') do not work in France.
And as far as my sense of humour goes, I find the idea that the entire English population has the same slightly warped and gnome-based take on things as I do frankly disturbing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)