Jeudi 21.12.06 Dog eat dog
I’ve only two classes today as my CM2 classes are off to the cinema to watch “Arthur and the Minimoys”. I don’t have to start until 10,00 but I’m at the bus-stop at 8,30 just to be sure I get in. William, our neighbour, pulls up and gives me a lift into town, and as he has time to kill he brings me to Chateauboeuf. He can’t wait for Chrismtas to be over. He just doesn’t revel in the festivities. His girlfriend’s family celebrate Christmas religiously and he’ll have to grin and bear for at least 24 hours. Bon courage!
My two classes with Isabelle and Catherine are a dawdle; I’ve a worksheet made out for the kids and after we sing We wish you a Merry Christmas they’re occupied with colouring and cutting for the rest of the class. The worksheet consists of three parts; a card, a bookmark and a snowflake. I demonstrate what to do; both with my own worksheet and using illustrations on the board. We colour the card, cut out the three sections, write our Christmas Greetings: Happy Christmas; Merry Christmas; Happy New Year, on the bookmark, write our card using the greetings and adapted lyrics of the song we sang and finally we get down to making the snowflake. I’m in awe at the amount of joy a folded piece of paper can bring. I go around drawing the outline for everyone so that no tears are shed least someone’s snowflake melts in the madness of the moment. One little girl gives me a beautiful picture of a snowflake she had drawn prior to the class. It’s now affixed to my bedroom door.
We later head out for a Chanté Noel. It’s in Nicola’s second school – Lycée Technique. It’s located in a colourful area; even more so at Christmas with bangers going off and tinselled scooters whining down the road. I’m treated to a second journey with William as he gives us a lift into town. He’s usually at pains to speak about his native land, and not because he misses it! He thinks Belgium is glum in all respects and in his mind the people are even more miserable. I agree with him that the weather tends to affect their moods. We rant to him about our Finnish friend, Jarno, living in Belgium. We sent him a postcard for a friend who works next door to him and he sent it back to us saying that he was not a postman and would not be involved in such childish games. Damn seasonal depression. Belgium’s too close to the low-lands – the Netherlands.
Nicola and I hang around outside the Bellevue Stadium, like hyper hoares, waiting for David. He appears around 19,00 and is welcomed by our own rendition of Once in Royal David’s City. Needless to say that’s the only English carol we sing tonight as the Chanté Noel involves singing and chanting and moving and grooving to over 50 French and Créole songs, hymns and canticles. Some of the tunes sound vaguely familiar and others are just plain weird. Many of the songs go on for a good 10 minutes and even though we have our little green An nou chanté noel books it’s hard to keep up with the singing and the random chanting.
The turnout at the Chanté Noel is pitiful but the people are friendly and the food is good. As we sing we indulge in pâté pockets, quiche, honey-and-pineapple ham and other savoury delights. People wander in and out of the hall to refill and reload before heading to the terrace to chat, smoke and drink. Staff and their families, and a few random souls make-up the mob and the lively band keeps the tempo going with their tambour bélé beats. About two hours in the singing stops as some locals put on a nativity sketch. It’s only after this that people begin to indulge in the desserts; patisseries, galettes and tartes. David and I have our fill.
We reckon we’ve had our fill of this Chanté Noel lark too. We hail a taxi and head into town for a few civilised, civilian bevvies. But guess who’s in the Mayflower; our camouflage chums. They’re a bit cool but Chris later comes over and sits with us, leaving Mario, Sebastian and Manu to their strategy talk – probably talking about the dimensions of, and multiple uses for, a cigarette packet. Nicola attracts some weirdoes; two mental marines. They aren’t fantasy men though two men in white soon enter and brighten up the bar. Another marine pulls up a chair beside David. His name is also David and I remember him as the guy who was hitting on Dené when we brought her and James here. He has an alcohol problem and as Michel, the bouncer, walks by he taps him on the shoulder, tapping his watch at the same time. When he first came here he told Michel to kick him our by 22,30 – he has half an hour’s grace as it’s almost 23,00. Before tipping off, the aquatic alcoholic offers our David some spiritual advice; it turns out he’s a sea-farer and a seer! I can predict the future too; if we stay here much longer we’ll become highly spiritual and totally unable to function for our last day of school. We finish our drinks and call for a taxi; it’s the same guy who drove us earlier. He drops David at Rond Point for €10 and us girls get home for €8 each. Nicola’s Créole interest undoubtedly lowered the price, and the conversation!
I’ve only two classes today as my CM2 classes are off to the cinema to watch “Arthur and the Minimoys”. I don’t have to start until 10,00 but I’m at the bus-stop at 8,30 just to be sure I get in. William, our neighbour, pulls up and gives me a lift into town, and as he has time to kill he brings me to Chateauboeuf. He can’t wait for Chrismtas to be over. He just doesn’t revel in the festivities. His girlfriend’s family celebrate Christmas religiously and he’ll have to grin and bear for at least 24 hours. Bon courage!
My two classes with Isabelle and Catherine are a dawdle; I’ve a worksheet made out for the kids and after we sing We wish you a Merry Christmas they’re occupied with colouring and cutting for the rest of the class. The worksheet consists of three parts; a card, a bookmark and a snowflake. I demonstrate what to do; both with my own worksheet and using illustrations on the board. We colour the card, cut out the three sections, write our Christmas Greetings: Happy Christmas; Merry Christmas; Happy New Year, on the bookmark, write our card using the greetings and adapted lyrics of the song we sang and finally we get down to making the snowflake. I’m in awe at the amount of joy a folded piece of paper can bring. I go around drawing the outline for everyone so that no tears are shed least someone’s snowflake melts in the madness of the moment. One little girl gives me a beautiful picture of a snowflake she had drawn prior to the class. It’s now affixed to my bedroom door.
We later head out for a Chanté Noel. It’s in Nicola’s second school – Lycée Technique. It’s located in a colourful area; even more so at Christmas with bangers going off and tinselled scooters whining down the road. I’m treated to a second journey with William as he gives us a lift into town. He’s usually at pains to speak about his native land, and not because he misses it! He thinks Belgium is glum in all respects and in his mind the people are even more miserable. I agree with him that the weather tends to affect their moods. We rant to him about our Finnish friend, Jarno, living in Belgium. We sent him a postcard for a friend who works next door to him and he sent it back to us saying that he was not a postman and would not be involved in such childish games. Damn seasonal depression. Belgium’s too close to the low-lands – the Netherlands.
Nicola and I hang around outside the Bellevue Stadium, like hyper hoares, waiting for David. He appears around 19,00 and is welcomed by our own rendition of Once in Royal David’s City. Needless to say that’s the only English carol we sing tonight as the Chanté Noel involves singing and chanting and moving and grooving to over 50 French and Créole songs, hymns and canticles. Some of the tunes sound vaguely familiar and others are just plain weird. Many of the songs go on for a good 10 minutes and even though we have our little green An nou chanté noel books it’s hard to keep up with the singing and the random chanting.
The turnout at the Chanté Noel is pitiful but the people are friendly and the food is good. As we sing we indulge in pâté pockets, quiche, honey-and-pineapple ham and other savoury delights. People wander in and out of the hall to refill and reload before heading to the terrace to chat, smoke and drink. Staff and their families, and a few random souls make-up the mob and the lively band keeps the tempo going with their tambour bélé beats. About two hours in the singing stops as some locals put on a nativity sketch. It’s only after this that people begin to indulge in the desserts; patisseries, galettes and tartes. David and I have our fill.
We reckon we’ve had our fill of this Chanté Noel lark too. We hail a taxi and head into town for a few civilised, civilian bevvies. But guess who’s in the Mayflower; our camouflage chums. They’re a bit cool but Chris later comes over and sits with us, leaving Mario, Sebastian and Manu to their strategy talk – probably talking about the dimensions of, and multiple uses for, a cigarette packet. Nicola attracts some weirdoes; two mental marines. They aren’t fantasy men though two men in white soon enter and brighten up the bar. Another marine pulls up a chair beside David. His name is also David and I remember him as the guy who was hitting on Dené when we brought her and James here. He has an alcohol problem and as Michel, the bouncer, walks by he taps him on the shoulder, tapping his watch at the same time. When he first came here he told Michel to kick him our by 22,30 – he has half an hour’s grace as it’s almost 23,00. Before tipping off, the aquatic alcoholic offers our David some spiritual advice; it turns out he’s a sea-farer and a seer! I can predict the future too; if we stay here much longer we’ll become highly spiritual and totally unable to function for our last day of school. We finish our drinks and call for a taxi; it’s the same guy who drove us earlier. He drops David at Rond Point for €10 and us girls get home for €8 each. Nicola’s Créole interest undoubtedly lowered the price, and the conversation!
No comments:
Post a Comment