I might be French but I have brought up British daughters. This stark realisation came yesterday evening when my younger daughter was taking far too much time to go to bed. To speed things up I decided to switch the light off (otherwise she would probably still be reading -or playing-) in her bedroom. That’s when she protested with a loud
What? Did she just say ‘Oi’? I couldn’t believe it. A well-behaved French little girl would have said
‘eh oh, I still need the light’ or
‘Mummy, can you please switch the light on?’
It happened again today. What am I talking about? Well, I received another dick pic on Twitter this morning, as a DM. I deleted it, and blocked the account, as I usually do. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like it, but, frankly, it didn’t bother me. I am used to it by now. I still don’t understand what men expect me to do when they send me such pictures. Do they want me to reciprocate(No way!) ? Shall I admire them? What is the point exactly? I don’t understand but hey, we are where we are.
I then opened my email box, and this time found a love declaration (not from the same guy, I think). It’s amazing how people believe that they have a special connection with you when they don’t know you at all. I ignored it. That’s not entirely true: I thought of forwarding it to my agent to see whether we could publish all the love declarations I have received at some point. It could work, couldn’t it?
It happened during a race. As you know, I sometimes run ultra marathons. What can I say? I like to push myself. Anyway, one of the (many) things I love about races is that I don’t have any filtering system when I run. It was the end of yet another long ultra, and I was exhausted. My running watch had died a long time ago, and I had no idea how much longer I needed to run. Which is why, when I saw a fellow runner, I asked him how far from the finishing line we were. He said something like ‘about a mile’.
I was delighted. I was almost there. I had made it. Which is why I blurted out:
” Oh really? I love you for this!”
You British are so nice. Seriously, how can you guys be always so kind? You will have to tell me what your secret is. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. What am I talking about? Well, let me explain: I happen to be a non-exec for a local bank in France, and we had a board meeting the other day. After 45 minutes, one of the other participants said that he needed the loo, and never came back. I was shocked. Nobody looked surprised, except me. What had happened?
I did what I had to do: I took the issue to Twitter and asked for advice. What did we do before social media existed? I wonder…In no particular order and without having to move, I was told that:
You know that everybody keeps telling me that I look French. I think that I sound French more than anything but hey, we are where we are. Today I wanted to share with you how to do the French ‘beach look’. As you know, I am very low maintenance. My idea of a blow-dry is to go to bed with wet hair in order to have more volume in the morning. Sometimes it works…sometimes it doesn’t!
Which is why, when I was invited to the Rush Hair Salon in Greenwich (https://www.rush.co.uk/salons/Greenwich?gclid=Cj0KEQjwsai_BRC30KH347fjksoBEiQAoiaqsaaWNt8OFUMEr3OdyLNveWRjzJBz89_-iG69ZhZW9ewaAm4g8P8HAQ) to get the ‘beach look’, I immediately accepted. Anita was my stylist, and of course she was great.
Seriously, this was a wonderful idea, wasn’t it? The weather was grey and dull and having the beach look was the perfect way to brighten my day.
It happened when I was going through airport security, in Nice. I couldn’t help noticing that the older gentlemen right before me had suppositories in his plastic bag. Then it downed on me: I had completely forgotten about suppositories. You see, nobody uses them this side on the Channel. In fact, I hadn’t missed them at all. And I am pretty sure that my (British) daughters didn’t miss them either. Hmmm, I am not sure I will ask them. Some things are probably better left unsaid.
You don’t wake up one day and decide to run a 100k race. It’s a long process. Frankly, despite really committing to the training, I didn’t know whether I was going to make it in one piece. But I did. So here it is: I completed my very first 100k race last Saturday. Yep, you read it right: I ran (well, sometimes I walked) 100k last Saturday. And I survived.
I know that some of you like numbers, so here it is: I came 15th female out of c. 400, and 49th overall (out of c. 1000 participants). My time was a little over 13hours30 minutes (with lunch & dinner breaks). That said, it was never about a time, it was about pushing myself to the limits, and raising funds for ActionAid UK.
The training had been brutal. It’s clear that fitness-wise, I am in a better shape than I have ever been. That said, the race was a lot harder than I thought. Nothing can prepare you for such a distance. Believe me, it was a killer. To cut a long story short, I toyed with the idea of a DNF (Do Not Finish in running lingo) at least a couple of times.
My daughter received her GCSE results a couple of weeks ago. Needless to say, there was no need to worry. That said, my biggest surprise came from the fact that she got A* both in English literature and English language. Why? Well, because, as you know, we happen to be French. The thing is, at around 95% in both subjects, she had better grades than her British classmates who want to study English at university. What happened? Why did none of her teachers tell us that she was bright in English? Believe me or not, I had always thought that it was her weak point. Now I wonder what I should believe. How could I get it so wrong? How could the school get it so wrong?
Every time I had to meet her English teachers I had a lecture on the fact that her punctuation was not up to standard. I have asked them to clarify, but never managed to understand what they meant exactly. To be fair, I always felt as if that they were trying to fob me off. I came to the conclusion that she needed to decorate her essays with more semi-colons, and add a few comas here and there. The fact that punctuation rules are slightly different in French obviously didn’t help her to comply with the strict English way, and probably prevented me from understanding what the problem was really about. Frankly, I wonder if there even was a problem in the first place. Well, clearly, I overanalysed the situation once again. I feel like I should have ignored the whole thing (but how can you when this is the feedback you get year after year?).
The ideal that every US citizen should have an equal opportunity to achieve success and prosperity through hard work, determination, and initiative.
“He could achieve the American dream only by hard work”
I miss New York. I spent a few days over there, and loved it. Nobody commented on my French accent, and it felt, well, refreshing. Not to mention that I ran every day to train for the 100k in September (you can read all about it here: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Muriel-Demarcus). I saw the city in a new light. I especially liked the Hudson river at 6 am. The light was amazing, right?
I felt right at home. The food was great. As usual, I was struggling with the size of the portions (they were huge!!!), and I have to be more mindful of what I am eating now, but hey, life is to be enjoyed, right?
Let’s face it: holidays with kids are not real holidays. What am I talking about? Well, I can’t completely relax when I have to take care of the children every day. And don’t get me started about having to pick them up late at night (or staying up late waiting for them to come back, just in case something happens). It’s simply nerve-racking. It feels like everybody else but me is on holidays, and I hate it, because I have no time for me. None whatsoever. I am dreaming of going to a desert island for at least six months. On. My. Own.
But I digress. When I was growing up, we were watching TV or wandering about with very little supervision. Come to think of it, my parents were incredibly lucky that we were not offered drugs, or anything more sinister than the odd cigarette (which I rejected. I was such a good girl, right?). My parents simply didn’t have a clue. It was a different time, I suppose. Maybe I am becoming overprotective, but I want to be more cautious with my children. Since I caught a classmate of my younger daughter watching some porn videos on her iPad while waiting for her parents, I realised that it was time to up my game. The fact that I didn’t grow up with tablets, iPhones and the likes wasn’t an excuse. But let’s admit it: it didn’t make my task any easier. That said, I felt that I had no choice because I almost passed out when the little girl proudly explained that she had seen two women having sex together (and she gave some graphic details that, if you ask me, were far too much for her age). Maybe, despite being French, I am a prude at heart. I had a quiet word with the parents who found the whole episode hilarious but hey, each to their own, I guess (for the record they were British. So much for all the cliches).