Last Night
My vague idea of having an alcohol free weekend has started very badly. I am not very hung over, but I was still in Mauri 7 about 2 o’clock this morning. I had not planned to spend my weekend in the place I spend most of my leisure time during the week, and that is what finally sent me home. But it took a while. It was a very good party.
Emil, Pablo and the beautiful Saira (from last year) were playing with their band, Scandamanics. As usual they were very good, although almost entirely drowned out by smoke and conversation.
Jason and Francois were both there, the latter in very high spirits. Jason’s mood was not quite so inflated, though he seemed quite cheerful too. Francois is rather interesting. Well all the teachers are rather interesting to us purely by virtue of being our teachers. Francois doesn’t teach the second year. (We were introduced yesterday to the hatchet-faced Susannah who is going to be teaching us next, the first time I’ve thought, ‘oh dear‘, when I’ve looked at one of the staff. But I may well be wrong. I was about lots of people from other classes I didn’t know until this year.)
So, although Francois has never taught us, I knew him by sight. But more from seeing him in Mauri 7 than in the school itself. He seemed to have metamorphosised from a scruffy drageur into a frencher looking version of Jason over the summer holidays. Light trousers, pressed shirt, lace-up leather ankle books and neatly coiffured hair. A reformed character, shaking his head in line with the other teachers during Autocours.
However, last night his hair seemed to have re-grown and disarranged itself and his clothes and complexion were once more creased. I overheard one of the first years telling a friend that he was hoping that Francois might be more friendly on Monday morning after tonight. ‘I just got a good few kisses on both cheeks from that man’, he said. Unfortunately for the first year I’m afraid those, like most kisses the French give each other, will turn out to be completely empty and meaningless. Well not completely meaningless. They obviously said a lot about what Lecoq Jnr had been partaking of that evening. I’m sorry to say that I suspect he hadn’t had a proper supper before going out.
Just before I left he was giving the hopeful first year a beer-gelled mohican. I’m afraid that this too will turn out to be completely meaningless in the cold light of Monday morning. So, if that stuff about the third eye contact and not looking at the students directly is true, where do beery hairstyles come in?
Emil, Pablo and the beautiful Saira (from last year) were playing with their band, Scandamanics. As usual they were very good, although almost entirely drowned out by smoke and conversation.
Jason and Francois were both there, the latter in very high spirits. Jason’s mood was not quite so inflated, though he seemed quite cheerful too. Francois is rather interesting. Well all the teachers are rather interesting to us purely by virtue of being our teachers. Francois doesn’t teach the second year. (We were introduced yesterday to the hatchet-faced Susannah who is going to be teaching us next, the first time I’ve thought, ‘oh dear‘, when I’ve looked at one of the staff. But I may well be wrong. I was about lots of people from other classes I didn’t know until this year.)
So, although Francois has never taught us, I knew him by sight. But more from seeing him in Mauri 7 than in the school itself. He seemed to have metamorphosised from a scruffy drageur into a frencher looking version of Jason over the summer holidays. Light trousers, pressed shirt, lace-up leather ankle books and neatly coiffured hair. A reformed character, shaking his head in line with the other teachers during Autocours.
However, last night his hair seemed to have re-grown and disarranged itself and his clothes and complexion were once more creased. I overheard one of the first years telling a friend that he was hoping that Francois might be more friendly on Monday morning after tonight. ‘I just got a good few kisses on both cheeks from that man’, he said. Unfortunately for the first year I’m afraid those, like most kisses the French give each other, will turn out to be completely empty and meaningless. Well not completely meaningless. They obviously said a lot about what Lecoq Jnr had been partaking of that evening. I’m sorry to say that I suspect he hadn’t had a proper supper before going out.
Just before I left he was giving the hopeful first year a beer-gelled mohican. I’m afraid that this too will turn out to be completely meaningless in the cold light of Monday morning. So, if that stuff about the third eye contact and not looking at the students directly is true, where do beery hairstyles come in?
posted by lecoqblogger at 11:15 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home