August 28th, 2022
Je suis mourant, je suis mort,
That says “I am dying, I am dead” for anyone lucky enough not to be suffering under the tyranny of a Parisian mother who occasionally (read: when her family comes to visit) has flashes of guilt for forgetting her homeland and tries to atone for twenty-odd years of British-ness in a single summer by convincing herself that she has raised her daughter to be bilingual and is therefore passing down her culture and heritage to the next generation. Here is what said supposedly bilingual daughter can actually say/understand in French:
Ou est le WC? (where is the water closet?)
Je suis anana (I am a pineapple)
Ma mere est folle (my mother is crazy)
I used the French-English dictionary for the last one.
I've been spending a good deal of time outdoors this summer so as not to be talked at in a language I don't understand while I'm trying to find the jam or read a book. The benefit is I found another really nice flying place, this cove sort of tucked away between hills large enough that summering muggles won't see me from the beach on the other side and suffer a coronary. I think it must have been another smuggler's dock, there's bound to be something interesting if I can just find the entrance to the caves...though hopefully nothing, er, skeletal. Saving that it's at least a good place to practice Quidditch. I was throwing rocks for myself to chase like snitches but Aidan stopped by for a couple days on his way back from Romania where he's wrangling dragons and set up an enchantment so the rocks would zoom about on their own but only within the boundaries of my hiding place. It was surprisingly lacking in awkward moments which I think I will chalk up to us both being Incredibly Mature. I do wish I was seventeen already though, it's so annoying that he can just whip something up while I'm magic-less for the summer. I've been making notes about something I want to try in transfiguration next term but I'd feel silly sending it on to Professor Dunstern over summer holidays for her thoughts, I'm supposed to be frolicking or something aren't I? I suppose I'll go do that now, or, rather, hiking, but I'll click my heels a few times on the path and that will have to be close enough.
Au revoir mes amies until Hogwarts.
That says “I am dying, I am dead” for anyone lucky enough not to be suffering under the tyranny of a Parisian mother who occasionally (read: when her family comes to visit) has flashes of guilt for forgetting her homeland and tries to atone for twenty-odd years of British-ness in a single summer by convincing herself that she has raised her daughter to be bilingual and is therefore passing down her culture and heritage to the next generation. Here is what said supposedly bilingual daughter can actually say/understand in French:
Ou est le WC? (where is the water closet?)
Je suis anana (I am a pineapple)
Ma mere est folle (my mother is crazy)
I used the French-English dictionary for the last one.
I've been spending a good deal of time outdoors this summer so as not to be talked at in a language I don't understand while I'm trying to find the jam or read a book. The benefit is I found another really nice flying place, this cove sort of tucked away between hills large enough that summering muggles won't see me from the beach on the other side and suffer a coronary. I think it must have been another smuggler's dock, there's bound to be something interesting if I can just find the entrance to the caves...though hopefully nothing, er, skeletal. Saving that it's at least a good place to practice Quidditch. I was throwing rocks for myself to chase like snitches but Aidan stopped by for a couple days on his way back from Romania where he's wrangling dragons and set up an enchantment so the rocks would zoom about on their own but only within the boundaries of my hiding place. It was surprisingly lacking in awkward moments which I think I will chalk up to us both being Incredibly Mature. I do wish I was seventeen already though, it's so annoying that he can just whip something up while I'm magic-less for the summer. I've been making notes about something I want to try in transfiguration next term but I'd feel silly sending it on to Professor Dunstern over summer holidays for her thoughts, I'm supposed to be frolicking or something aren't I? I suppose I'll go do that now, or, rather, hiking, but I'll click my heels a few times on the path and that will have to be close enough.
Au revoir mes amies until Hogwarts.