So I appear to be finished in France - the Caen-Portsmouth ferry dropped me off at some unpleasant hour this morning and I arrived home bleary-eyed at about 8am.
I'm not going to do a massive spiel about what an amazing, eye-opening experience it was, and how I'll treasure the memory of everything I did and everyone I met. It's boring - no-one wants to hear it, and I'm not prone to hyperbole anyway. France was fine, the people were pretty friendly on the whole, and I didn't die or anything, so I'll consider the whole experience as a success.
Some final thoughts on France then, in no particular order:
- The majority of French boys have no shame whatsoever and will attempt to fuck anything with a pulse. Quite how this is an attractive quality is beyond me, but such is life.
- The notion of being "fashionably late" is taken to the extreme. Indeed, if anyone I'm supposed to be meeting turns up in the same week me, I consider that to be a relative success.
- There is nothing to do on Sundays. Anywhere.
- People drink considerably less over here, though pretend they drink just as much. Machismo?
- French keyboards are confusing; returning to a QWERTY keyboard is a rather strange experience.
Next stop: Frankfurt.
See you all then, folks.