Saturday. 9h15. One suitcase, one back pack and a bag. Rachel helped me to the metro station - down all the stairs. I then took the metro one stop to Saint Charles and then bought my bus ticket. I met Alicia at the bus stop and we took the bus together to the aeroport. Goodbye Marseille. I wasn't sad to leave because in less than two weeks I'll be back. And also, it didn't feel like Christmas in Marseille, I was looking forward to going back to England to see my family. I was flying with Ryan Air. The luggage limit is 15kg and somehow, don't ask me how because I was travelling light, my suitcase weighed 17 odd kilos! The woman at check in told me I had to remove some of the things from inside. I went away to the scales at the side with Alicia and removed my coat, jeans, a couple of tops - I gave them to Alicia. I then went back to the woman, she re-weighed my suitcase and told me I could go though. (They don't take your suitcase off of you at this point, you have to put it yourself onto a conveyor belt thing) so I went behind the wall and put my coat and jeans back in the suitcase! I mean, what did she think I was going to do with the things I took out of my suitcase?! I then put my suitcase on the conveyor belt and went to where they search your hand luggage. I was wearing bracelets which set the metal detector off. This was proving to be a stressful journey! I then learnt that Ryan Air don't give you a seat, it's first come, first served. Which, I soon learnt, leads to a mad rush of people trying to get the best seats! They then kept us waiting in a queue, standing up, with nothing to lean on even for nearly an hour. The flight was 45 minutes late taking off and no one apologised, no one even mentioned the delay or explained why there was a delay! I was late landing and it took the best part of an hour for me to get my bag and renew my railcard and buy a ticket from Stansted Airport to Liverpool Street, a journey which took 45 minutes on the Stansted Express. I then met Alex there and I bought a ticket to Birmingham International. I wanted to get the 17h38 direct train from London to Birmingham International but my ticket was only valid on london mainland trains and all the direct trains were virgin ones. I was quite prepared to get on a virgin train and either a) feign ignorance when someone questioned my ticket or b) pretend to be french. Alex, however, told me to not do that and so I asked at the station and the man told me to run to platform 11 and get the 17h15 train to Northampton and change there for Birmingham International. I got on the train and asked the ticket man who told me there would be no trains from Northampton to Birmingham International. I told him that the man at the station told me there would me. He said he'd check. I had visions of being stranded in Northampton - miles from where I wanted to be! The man came back and said there would be a train from Northampton to Birmingham but that there would be a 30 minute wait. I could cope with that! It was being stranded in Northampton that I couldn't cope with. I eventually got to Birmingham International at 19h55 - a whole hour later than the direct 17h38 train would have got me there for, even though the one I got to Northampton left the best part of half an hour earlier! Madness! I eventually got back to Ludlow a whole 13 hours after leaving my appartment that morning. Exhaustion.
It's really strange being back in England. It's hard to explain and people don't seem to understand. It's like I have super powerful hearing because I can understand everything that everyone is saying whether I want to or not. It's also strange to think that everyone can understand me too. I don't like it. I keep using random french words and saying 'bonjour' and 'merci' to people. I wheeled my suitcase over a lady's foot in London, I said 'pardon' and she looked at me and then I was like, oops, wrong language, 'sorry'. The currency is strange - so heavy and clumbersome. The coins are so big. Even the green man at pedestrian crossings seems big. I keep looking the wrong way when I cross the road and people pass on the left here and I keep going right.
Qui êtes-vous ?
- Gill
- I'm an ex-student. A vegetarian ex-student. A vegetarian ex-student who studied English Language and French at the University of Sussex in Brighton. I spent the 2007-8 academic year on my year abroad (in Marseille, France) which is when I started the blog. It was a way of keeping my family and friends back in England updated with what I was up to without racking up gigantic phone bills. I enjoyed my degree. I originally wanted to be an EFL Teacher, I even did the CELTA. I still get excited about grammar, about the present perfect continuous and phrasal verbs. But it's not a career I want to fall into. I love speaking French too and learning new words. Now I've finished my degree I miss my Student Discount. I miss my title of 'Student' too. I'm a Project Worker now, a far cry from an EFL teacher. I've swapped my international students for rough sleepers and my text books for substance misuse and harm minimisation leaflets. I've decided to stay in Brighton, for a while at least. I might do a Masters, you never know. But, at present, I'm quite happy being a Project Worker. I'd still like to travel mind, maybe teaching as I go. But we'll see - at present I'm just fine where I am.