Survey

If you look in the side-bar on the right of this page, you'll see I've started a poll. A certain Pomme de Terre Chasseur de Couleurs thinks I should start posting things in French, or carrément start a separate French version of this blog (Non, pas de pingouins, anyone?). Plus Belle Ma Vie thinks it should stay in English. I'm in two minds (nascent schizophrenia? Nah, just the usual mild befuddlement), so I'd like to know what other people think on this question. Writing in French wouldn't pose any problem- after 140 pages on obscure Anglo-Norman medieval history, a blog post now and then is no big deal- but my sense of humour occasionally fails to translate, usually because people aren't expecting it to.

I shall clarify.

When I respond to someone asking if my mother speaks French, for example, by saying "oui, un petit pois", I am not mixing up the words "pois" (pea) and "peu" (bit). I am, instead, repeating a common error made by numerous English speakers of French with the intention of it being funny. (This is, actually, a real example, said to someone who should have known better, who did think I was talking about vegetables).

So. Maybe I will write in French, eef you laike. Mais seulement si vous jurez de ne jamais, ô grand JAMAIS, me prendre au sérieux, and not to judge me for the fact my usual keyboard can't cope with accents.

Merry-go-Round

I've spent the last ten days on a hunting trip in Cambridgeshire. My prey- the elusive Job- has so far eluded me, but I have laid down some traps which I hope will work. Before leaving for the hunting trip, however, I did manage to catch- with my bare hands! - a small job (joblet?) for next week. The poor admin people at the jobcentre already struggle with the ridiculous range of things I apply for (editorial assistant, waitress, pastry chef, PhDs...)- I think they think I'm making half of it up. So, now, which of these things am I doing next week, they wonder?

PIT ORCHESTRA!

Hahaha.

I'm playing for a production of Carousel, a musical about which I know very little, except that it involves clams. My dad, who knows more about such things than I do, informs me that no, there are not going to be actors dressed up as shellfish and begging people not to eat them. 'tis disappointing. Ah well, we shall see.

A Monopoly Anomaly

This afternoon, my family (well, some of us) managed to finish a game of Monopoly. It's the first time in years we've actually got to the end of one without someone storming off or knocking over the board or the parents banning all board games for ever and ever and ever. There was a definite winner, nobody cheated, and noone gave up and made teams.

That's not how Monopoly's meant to be played, is it?