Fred the Workaholic stands me up this morning. We had arranged to meet at 6,00 – his usual departure time, but at 6,30 I’m still standing at the bottom of the road looking at his car upon the hill. I’m not alone at my outpost. Richard has been out and about since dawn and we both stand by the gate looking up at the eggshell blue Clio contemplating what I should do next. The bus has long since rumbled by. Richard isn’t keen on being bumper-to-bumper for the next hour but he flags down a few neighbours before finding one who is going into town. Linda and her mother are of Indian descent. They’re pleasant and chatty. I’m left into town by 7,20 and I leave them an invitation for our St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans on Saturday. I get my connecting bus in a flash. By the time I reach school I’m psyched up, mentally ready for the little rascals. I may be decked out in my green finery – emerald green top and shamrock topped sandals, but the displays and projects still have to be arranged in the exhibition room. I’ll be taking today’s CM2 classes together for the first session so I give Madame Caruge and Mr Duval the low-down on the mornings activities and we agree to start at 8, 30 giving me some extra breathing space.
I enlist some pupils in Madame Caruge’s class to hang up posters, position the projects, organise the seating and generally decorate the exhibition room. Madame Thaly is not in today so we also use her room for the shamrock display as well as the music and dance items. The main exhibition space houses the class projects and my miscellaneous assortment of maps, posters, brochures and Irish wares as well as the gigantic Happy St. Patrick’s Day poster. While the pupils are getting busy with blu-tack, I race around the yard sticking up clues; those midnight masterpieces. In between my various adhesive adventures I find time to set the photocopier and it finally spits out the Q&A sheet for the Treasure Hunt.
As it happens I’ve more time to spare than I thought but I then remember that I’m actually waiting for the representative from the Circonscription to arrive with the projector. She does – just at that moment. Her name is Virginie. She’s a slight, wavy-haired French brunette and as we walk through the yard with our bags and boxes so many children as if we’re sisters. To cut a long 15 minute tussle with technology short the projector neither works with my laptop nor the computers in the salle d’informatique. My laptop will just have to behave itself and perform well for the pupils who will be huddled around it. Virginie stays on for the morning to take pictures and videos for the Rectorat.
All in all the morning goes well. The children are educated by the slideshow presentation, enthralled by the Treasure Hunt and energised by the Irish dancing. The majority of them have turned out in green garments. There’s also a sprinkling of orange and the ones who forgot are saved by the whiteness of their school t-shirts. Some of them have made garlands during their recreation time, using the Irish colours, although some appear in the most random places – in the toilets, under alcoves and on wire fences…
The only qualm I would have would be the lack of, or rather the tardy, interest in my efforts by Madame de la Directrice. Madame Dau is a busy woman and to be perfectly honest I’m glad she didn’t interfere and let me do my own thing. She did provide what I asked but she didn’t even feign an interest in the action itself. This morning she asks me if there’s any sort of food we could get so the kids can have a real Irish taster. Hang on. Was I not told a few weeks ago that we shouldn’t bring food into school for the kids? And anyway, do they think that Irish food products are in abundance here? There’s Guinness and Jameson in Hyper U but that’s out of the question. Cadbury’s chocolate is the only catch but it’d be an expensive treat.
Somewhere in the recesses of my brain I remember that a kid gave me a shamrock shaped sweet this morning - it was actually a green gelatine four-leafed clover. There are two shops close to the school. I presume that the sweets were purchased in one of them; the second shop - a small, narrow, box laden shack is the gummy goldmine. Unfortunately there are only the dregs left in the box of Porte Bonheur; it’s a mixed box of lucky charm sweets with yellow gummy horseshoes, chewy red heart shapes and a few green jelly clovers. I buy the remaining clovers. €2.60 for 13. Rip-off. I blame the unlucky quantity. I ask the lady for the details of the wholesaler: CODICO SAS, Francois – 05.96.54.35.00. Madame Dau has left for lunch by the time I return so I leave a note and one sweet before skipping off to enjoy my sugar fix.
John, my good neighbour, is on the bus home. My gums are not sufficiently stuck with gelatine and I yap to him all the way home while showing him pictures of the spectacle he missed out on last night. The army lads are off to the beach but I pass and pass out under my canopy in an instant. I wake up after 8,00 after my sweet dreams are shattered Madame’s ranting upstairs. Some of my Treasure Hunt clues were spoilt by the elements so I go about fixing them up as I watch some weird French mini-film about an introvert girl who meets a man over the internet only to arrive at his house for a date the following week to find out he’s dead.
It doesn’t bode well for the night but au contraire; Nicola comes back all smiles from her date with Nicolas. I think she’s actually more taken by the fact that they share the same name and the same star-sign than by the lad himself! Nicolas is a French soldier and he plays rugby with Gethin’s club here. He has been living in Martinique for the past year and a half. His English is flawless – Nicola would add that is body is likewise, though he may be a bit on the short side for her. He joined his friend, John-Alain, in getting a tattoo done a few weeks ago and they’ll be joining us for our Paddy’s Day celebrations on Saturday so Nicola will be in her element with all the finer lads we have invited… we’ll see who gets the most attention; or who stands to attention the quickest!
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