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Don’t Fancy Yours Much
28th January 2010 | 0 comments | 0 votes yet, click here to agree or disagree
France is the gastronomic capital of Europe. Well, considering the turgid root vegetable concoctions of Eastern Europe, the glistening suspicious sausages of Deutchland and the stodgy plates of grease beloved of the British - the country in which 'hearty' means ‘weighs the same as a new born child,’ - it really doesn’t have much to fear competition-wise, does it?
And so, I ask myself, how is it that I can live... -
Living in A Box
22nd January 2010 | 2 comments | 0 votes yet, click here to agree or disagree
Readers, I will share a sad fact: I am thirty-three and I sleep in a bunk bed.
There is nothing sinister about this. It has nothing to do with an acreage of psychological baggage. I am not 'eccentric' or in the army. I never suffered an incident as a child that left me with a crippling carpeting phobia.No, it just so happens that the room I rent has a bunk bed... -
Eavesdropping: Stranger Than Fiction
5th January 2010 | 0 comments | 1 person likes this
One of the nicest things about France (apart from the cakes. And the absence of Katie Price. And boxes of wine for under six quid) is that you can go out for a coffee without someone else’s conversation intruding like a dog running all over your picnic blanket.
When the language being spoken around you isn’t your first, it’s a million times easier to tune out. Which is marvellous, if you're... -
Really, they’re hating every minute of it.
28th December 2009 | 0 comments | 1 person likes this
It is a great biological mystery of the age as to why, once on a skiing holiday, an intelligent British person goes rogue.
They become a monster once they get poles in their hands. The monster takes one of two hideous forms: the Dangerous Numpty and the Rude Drunken Twat.The Dangerous Numpty loses all sense of personal space on arrival in resort, as if an invisible threshold is crossed and they... -
A BikeThief Saved My Novel (sort of)
13th November 2009 | 2 comments | 4 people like this
‘Most people have a novel in them,’ commented Scot-grot writer, Irvine Welsh, ‘and in most cases that’s where it should stay.’
Now, I happened to be vibrating with caffeine when I read this quote and, obviously assuming Irvine was addressing me directly, momentarily rethought my grand idea to join in the frolics at National Novel Writing Month. If the title has failed to enlighten, NaNoWriMo requires that mentalists aspiring authors write... -
The Grass is Greener (ish)
4th November 2009 | 0 comments | 6 people like this
At a risk of sounding British, leaving the UK to work from France isn’t all it’s cracked up to be...
‘Ooooooh! You live in the French Alps!’ squeal most people excitedly (yes, even males) when I repeat my address for the third time for them because two foot of unexpected overnight snowfall has resulted in a spectacularly bad Skype connection. For most people, i.e. anyone who doesn’t do it, living and...
CONTRIBUTOR
Deborah Willimott
Deborah Jane Willimott is a freelance writer who escaped to the snowy promise of the French Alps a few years ago after London destroyed her sanity and her credit rating. She regularly contributes to various websites and British womens glossies including Cosmo and Glamour but despite these grown-up pursuits is primarily a thirty year old still working part-time in a cafe, renting a room the size of a chest freezer and attempting to write amusing and entertaining content for popular consumption. She writes a daily blog at http://theweemo.wordpress.com/ And shes working on a novel. Of course.
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