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Start, pause, stuck…

Writing a personal blog should be easy, right? After all, these are my experiences that I’m trying to put to pages. However, every so often, I find myself starting little snippets and then paused, not entirely sure how to finish them up without putting everyone to sleep, and all the while thinking “why would anybody think they are interesting?”.

Chocolate of Patrick Roger

The following is the equivalent of the text on type-written-but-crumpled-on-the-floor pages. Maybe I will revisit them one day, but it’s a lot likely that I won’t. At least I can now get rid of the random text documents – we shall be exploring the theme of “thing I don’t have since moving to Paris” today – sitting in my draft folder. ;)

* * *

Take 1 (aka a full-length mirror)

It has just occurred to me that I haven’t had the luxury of preening myself before a full-length mirror at home since I moved to France. In my small studio at Cite U, there was only a small mirror in the en-suite bathroom. In our current apartment we have a triple-panelled mirror/shelving set up in our main bathroom but it is just half-body in length, and the toilet comes equipped with just a teeny tiny face mirror.

Should you ever see me in an outfit that makes you ponder if I have not looked into a mirror before I left home, well, you have hit it spot-on! Should you think I shouldn’t go out without changing, please please please let me know before I step out the door! Should you catch me sneaking a look every so often at the reflective glasses of a shop front, that’s just me trying to check if I look presentable and not being a narcissist.

Take 2 (aka an oven)

We previously joked, if F wants to keep me happy, he needs to find me an oven.

It was his own fault really. When we were moving in together, I told him that after months of living without an oven (I didn’t have the space in my former studio, and I would also need permission from CFB in order to bring one in, given it’s a large electrical item) it would be really nice to have one now that we have space in our apartment. He raised my hope by telling me that he already own a microwave/oven. Errm, it is actually a microwave/grill! When I said oven, I meant something I can use to bake cake, tarts, lasagne and the likes. For a boy, apparently, oven means something you can reheat pizza in. Oops.

I was quite happy to buy one ourselves but luckily for him, his brother came to the rescue. Yann has a spare oven which is in storage and he’s happy that we could offer it a new, loving home. If you know me well, you could well imagine the inner baker in me jumping for joy and in glee!

Take 3 (aka baking ingredients)

I’ve scanned the shelves carefully and I’ve looked through the entire aisle. Nope. I cannot find it. One of the biggest supermarkets and I have failed to find self-raising flour. Not only that, I could not find Demerara sugar either. Is my baking project for the weekend doomed to fail, thanks to my inability to buy these basic ingredients?

Fortunately, rescue is just a phone call away. I rang Anne, a friend who loves baking even more than me. It turns out, self-raising flour is not common in France although Asian supermarkets would carry some stock, and as for the Demerara sugar, my best bet is to head over to G Detou.

Take 4 (aka fancy dresses)

When I packed to move, I brought only what I thought as essentials. Everything else have been put into boxes and sitting in stacks in my aunt’s conservatory, except for some dresses which I’ve continued to keep in a small partition of the wardrobe. It shouldn’t pose a problem, except I find myself with invitations to attend a number of special occassions and this can only mean one thing – dress shopping. *groan*

Have I ever told you I’m not a big fan of clothes shopping? And have I told you that, back in Ireland, I know about 2 shops that carry dresses I like and in my size, and I’ve always shopped there to simplify my shopping trips? Now, these brands are not present in the French market, and I’m not entirely sure where to start either. If only I have not left everything hanging in the wardrobe in Dublin…

* * *

See, no matter how I look back at these, they just sound miserable and whiny. I ended up with little wish to continue them because I am not unhappy not having all these things. I guess I was trying to write about certain quirks of missing items I’ve got used to having in my possession, but it simply doesn’t come out that way. /sigh

I need some fresh inspiration. Anyone want to send some my way?

Category: Ma vie en France, Musing

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2 scribbles & notes

  1. med says:

    one year late but u’ve been doing (writing/posting) well hehehe…if anything…blame me hoohoo

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