Today marks an entire year since I was offered my internship in Paris and of course, in true Lauren style, it’s got me feeling all mushy and emotional. Not like in a teary way, I’m not really a cryer, but more in an ohmygodwhyisitgoingsofast way (apologies for making you try to figure that out).
I’ve been doing a lot of planning recently, which will come as no surprise. Although five months seems like a long time, the fact that I work five days a week means that I only really have five months worth of weekends, which isn’t actually very long at all. With that alongside the fact that I am desperate to get a couple of weekend trips booked because travelling to other European cities is sooo much cheaper from Paris than it is from Scotland, I literally feel like the time is slickly slipping through my tiny fingers sometimes.
With that said, I am fairly working my way through my ‘Paris Bucket-list’ which I made in my first month and have been adding to whenever I think of something new. I think I now have more items with little star stickers (colour coordinated of course) beside them than I do without. As much as evenings are pretty restricted now, they won’t be in a few months when it stays lighter for longer, and I won’t be too scared of kidnapping to take the metro alone.
I am so much more of a summer person than a winter one, and don’t take this to mean that I am wishing my time away, but I cannot WAIT for the temperature to ramp itself up a bit. True, I am living in conditions that are even now about 10 degrees warmer than at home, but I reckon I’d still be far more comfortable in the mid 20s. My office is almost entirely covered in floor to ceiling windows, so I cannot wait to sit at my desk and fry like a little rasher of bacon. I don’t even like bacon, that was just a good simile.
To be fair I have come to realise that maybe the time speeding by is a good thing. At least I have realised now in January that I don’t have too long, as opposed to in mid-June. It means that when I am lying in my bed on a Sunday morning allowing Netflix to roll right into the next episode of Friends, in French might I add, my fear of time running away from me will light a fire beneath my backside. Once I am back in Scotland, most likely shivering and looking at a tree, I will always regret the days that I could have been looking at the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe or the Sacre Coeur or the Notre Dame but chose to stay in bed instead. A bed will always be waiting for me at home (fingers crossed it will anyway), Paris will not be.
Hope you thoroughly enjoyed these rambles,
Best wishes from Paris x
(Just realised any new readers might think my name is Paris, it is not, it’s Lauren, I’m just in Paris which you probably gathered from the fact that I have mentioned it in just about every paragraph)
Lauren Robertson 