It seems that my diligence in posting regularly has slipped a little. Last weekend I caught up with Clio and some of her friends, first at a Breton bar and then at a place on the Rue St Michel, a busy street full of bars and kebab shops. It was good, and they all spoke a bit of English, which was useful when my French ran out. On Sunday I just shuffled stuff back and forth from my room at the cité universitaire to the apartment.

I caught up with Clio and friends again on Thursday night, at their campus at Villejean. I had wavered on whether or not I would go, since I had to sign my lease at 9am the next morning and didn't really want to be hung over, but I wandered along, albeit a bit late. It was a lot like a bunker, everyone in costume, drunk, dancing, but in a small crowd of a hundred or so, mostly girls. Estelle was very emotional about my not having called her, and I was generally quite the novelty. Still, being the only sober guy at a party where you don't speak a lot of the lingo, and being (or at least feeling) 5 years older than anyone else there, didn't really grip me, so I walked back home after an hour or two.