As some of you may recall from a previous post, it was requested of me by one of my teachers to conduct a slightly more vulgar lesson for one of my classes - cars, girls, beer and the like. Well, I was approached by the same teacher a few days ago and was asked whether it would be possible to talk to them about Stephen Hawking this time - apparently she had discussed one of his books with them and they were absolutely fascinated by him. So we've gone from FHM to New Scientist (figuratively speaking) within the space of a couple of weeks; I have absolutely no idea what will be next, though nothing will surprise me now.
Speaking of surprises, I had to undergo the indignity of cutting through the inner lining of my tracksuit trousers with a key in order to retrieve them. Having been running my usual route, I suddenly felt my keys shift position and fall unceremoniously down my leg. Cue 5 minutes of scrabbling with the sharpest one I could find, all to the amusement of the passing locals and their dogs, who took it upon themselves to make my job as difficult as possible. So thank you for that, my ever-loyal canine friends.
Finally, Angoulême played host to a comic book festival this weekend. Apparently it's an international thing, albeit geared towards French-speaking comic geeks. So, curiosity barely aroused, I decided to take in a show of some description, which involved the following:
- A young man beatboxing.
- A semi-naked bald gentleman with body art doing all sorts of interpretative dances.
- A lady dressed up as a peacock.
- 3 gramophones.
- Random drawings popping up on a screen behind them, apparently giving some sort of theme to the evening. None could be ascertained.
Quod the proverbial fuck would just about sum it up, but it was light entertainment nonetheless.
Peace,
Charlie x
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