Testing Testing

Last night I babysat for my morning family of recent months. I'm not sure why I agreed to do this as I probably don't need the extra cash now. But it seemed like a nice thing to do, and it is easy work. It is work though, and on a Saturday night. Bah. They were at a wedding do and sometime after 1am called me to say that, if I wanted, I could get a taxi as they were on their way home. This would have meant leaving two children asleep, alone, in a large house. Stuff of nightmares. Ask Alfred Hitchcock. The mother in me could not do this. What if something happened?

So anyway, I got home eventually about 2.15am, so tired I could not give the taxi driver the right money. Today was mainly about sleeping off the weird necky headache got from exhaustion and watching the Olympics at a funny angle, I think. Eventually I surfaced to go and fritter my babysit money at Carrefour, inexplicably dressed as an American tourist - white plimsolls, raincoat, and stupid bucket hat.

Tomorrow evening I have a French test. Examinations of any kind congeal the blood in my arms and head so that I go into a kind of anxious paralysis. This test needs to be passed in order to go up to level 2C. I am not at all confident of passing, despite having studied a bit. It just doesn't go in. Instead I retain words from handwritten signs in the street: Ce trottoir n’est pas un crottoir. Merde alors.