i'm home and i feel sad. because the holiday is over, because i miss my friends, because my dad rang me (it's his birthday today) and said he hopes to see me before christmas. because i am tired. because i miss the freedom of travelling and not knowing what will unfold. because i'm scared about going back to cambridge (because i've done no work). because i'm sad quite a lot - BECAUSE I'M LACKING IN VITAMIN B

i wish i was taking a year abroad, i think that's what i need. when i get back to cambridge i will see if i can get some sort of help with finding a placement, perhaps in rome. i want to be anonymous in another country, to start again, speaking a different tongue.

i shall overlap with my travel blog to tell you that our last day in Paris was spent, premierement, eating at simon's lovely little flat. his mother had made a wonderful lunch. including tomato salad and a huge vegetable tart that was made especially for me. i ate more than i usually would, which stressed me out a little, but i did enjoy it very much, and the company (though one of my friends pissed me off by saying that lawyers work harder than english students and that's why they need their own library in our college. i do not think that you can compare the two subjects, at all. english students work just as hard, and they work in a completely different way. the study of literature involves the heart just as much as the brain. some of the things i have to read and think about give me nightmares, or heartache. and then i have to put all of these nightmares and heartaches into sentences that have to be balanced and musical and lovely. i think it is hard. the study of literature should be defended).

anyway after lunch me and jane met her friend alice at pigalle station and walked up la butte de montmartre (my favourite place in Paris, and a wonderful place to float around wistfully like amelie poulain), stopping for coffee on the way (though i didn't have one). jane was scared of the pigeons so we had to move. i felt sorry for them. it's not their fault that they're dirty, they're just getting on with life like the rest of us. we found a cute little vintage shop wherein i bought un manteau en faux fourrure. it is peach coloured and very soft and it has a hood. i love it, i can bury myself in it. after that (and with me wearing my gigantic new peachcoat) we walked up to the sacre coeur. people were sitting on the steps with guitars. a man was doing kick-ups with his football whilst balanced perilously on a bollard, an odd silhouette against the parisian skyline. it was a strange atmosphere, but quite pleasant.

that evening we planned on going out but it didn't happen. we drank gin in katrina's room and i got restless because i wanted to see if the russian boy who i fell a little bit in love with the night before was in the kitchen, because i wanted to talk to him. then katrina got sad because she was scared about being in paris, and being alone. then we decided not to go out, and we went and sat in the kitchen, and russian boy's sprouts were cooking on the hob again (oh how my heart leapt), and he came and sat with us (us being me, simon, simon's friend gabriel [who is very nice, and reminds me of jemaine from flight of the conchords], and jane and katrina) but he got very drunk and i didn't want to talk to him any more, even though i thought he was beautiful. it was a nice evening anyhow, sitting and drinking vodka and talking in french. the boys said my french was very good, which made me happy. then the boys left and we went to bed and woke up at 6 feeling awful and packed up our stuff in the dark and hurried out of the maison du cambodge into the cold morning in order to catch our train. we got the RER to gare du nord and then got the eurostar, on which i slept, albeit very badly (i have done something to my back). then we were in england and it felt strange and in the taxi going through elephant castle and camberwell i thought london looked very ugly and i didn't want to be here any more.

and now i'm here, and, if all goes to plan, i will only be here for one night because i want to go to cambridge tomorrow so i can sit on my own in the english faculty for a week reading the greek tragedies that i was supposed to have read over the 3-month vacation. i did read oedipus rex on my travels, though, and thought it was beautiful. i was fascinated by the role of the chorus. what happened to the chorus? what is the modern-day substitute? i read it on the way to rome, so seeing the theatre at ostia antica really brought to me how different the experience of theatre was then. it was a right of all men to go to the theatre, and it bordered on a duty.

i haven't started packing for cambridge yet. i should probably start cramming my life into bags right now but i can't face it, and my back hurts. i'll get up early tomorrow to do it.

blogging is therapeutic. i feel a little better now, maybe because writing this post has made me tired enough to be able to sleep. i think.

anyway, good night. and hi, flo #2, i'm glad you found my blog! i miss you. x