An idiot abroad, part one...

"An idiot abroad" indeed. My boyfriend was telling about a new programme soon to be broadcasted called "an idiot abroad" and he thought it was very apt for my current situation, thus being the name of this "blog".  Current situation: spending my third year of my degree in France and Italy. First stop: Nantes, which as you'll see from the photo is a very beautiful city.

Now that i'm a resident of France, I decided it be a good idea to put it upon myself to have a change and aspire to become similar to all these beautiful French women – who have impeccable class, elegance, and amazing legs which quite often lead to moments of severe jealousy, self-loathing and determination to go for a run (which never actually happens). As Coco Chanel said, “A lady should be two things; Classy and Fabulous”. I am yet to be either, but maybe I’ll have a *cue pretencious voice* “real cultural and spiritual experience on my gap yahh which will change me, yah yah yah..”

But Eleanor McKeon, living in France – well who knew? It’s bloody marvellous and as I just told Jess my life seems to suddenly be coming together –I’ve finally bought my bin-bags, defrosted my mince and bought my bra’s which I stupidly forgot to bring; the 3 things I’ve “harped on about for the past 3 weeks”. The simple things…

Anyway, everyone is marvellous and I love them all – what hoots! Liam with his hilarious stories about homophobic taxi drivers; Claire who is very very sweet and has a never-ending wardrobe; Annie – our very own Bridget Jones (she comes out with some corkers); Jess, the one who gets gradually louder and louder the more wine consumed, who calls me Little Ellie (just like Lil Wayne, only slightly more gangster), Louisa- the writer-to-be who has such a way with words - whether it be describing her sexual habits or her toiletry needs she still sounds so very refined; Lauren and Livi two lovely girls from Cardiff who come as a duo & Kévin – our French sweetheart and walking dictionary, “Oh Kev, how do you say moobs in French?”

I received a letter off John yesterday, and it’s so so so lovely. Not saying I cried but… yeah. He wrote me a poem and it’s a-maz-en. So, as everything in our relationship is a competition (ie who can eat the most food - tubster that I am, I always win) I wrote him a poem back. Although I feared my poetic ability didn’t stretch much further than “the cat sat on the mat”, I managed to write about 7 pages. No doubt he’ll accuse me of “wafflin’ shit !” as per, but “I enjoyed myself, and that’s the main thing.”

Uni is yet to begin and to be honest it couldn’t come quicker –getting a bit restless now. I am very aware of that fact that I will regret saying this when I’m landed with early mornings in lectures taught in a language I have a minor ability of understanding.

TO-DO list (I swear to God I am always writing these lists, they make me feel organised despite that fact I never actually do anything I am supposed to do. Very much a procrastinator; instead of revising/doing anything remotely important I will find arranging my shoes into colour order to be much more of a priority)

- clean
- plan what to do for J Dawgs* birthday
- be fabulous**

* J Dawg –John aka Dear John, the boyfriend
** Fat chance; went to the “supermarché” without having looked in the mirror beforehand and caught a glimpse of myself in a car window reflection sporting close to Afro hair, previous nights makeup and far from chic clothing, unlike the rest of the French beauties here. I’m not sure the French are ready for this.