Le Fin...Pour Le Moment

Despite still not having started my packing, I can now pretty much count down the hours to Nice. As I won't have any internet access in the appartment and I imagine all of my internet café time will be spent on very loud Skype sessions, this is Pauvre Petite Riche's last post for the summer.

Fear not, I plan to document all of Nice's fabulousness and have plenty to write about come July. I spent the evening racking my brain for a topic to wrap things up with and decided to go with my five favourite things about the year.

1. Becoming an Alcoholic

When I think back to last year...my liver gives me an affectionate squeeze "Remember when you weren't trying to kill me?"

Headspins after a mere glass of wine, being disgusted at the idea of doing shots, buying sparkling rosé (the recessionista's pink champagne) for nights out. There was no such thing as pre - drinking and I was always tucked up for 3am.

Not that I regret any of it. I can easily say I beyond enjoyed myself every single time we went out this year( I would love to be able to say every night we went out, but that would be lying).

Whether it ended in me covered head to toe in fluorescent pink dust and nail varnish, 'hiding in the bushes', being invited to shower with strange french men or almost taking a dip in the Hillbilly's fountain.

KU - LOVE FO' LIFE

2. Crawfordians and co.

The thought of not being in Scoil Mhuire baffled me. Not sitting in the same classes week after week, not spending lunch with the same girls. My first morning at Crawford was honestly, terrifying. Sitting in the lecture theatre, not recognising a single face. Also, being ridiculously shy did not help my situation.

As the year went on I met some of the most ridiculous, insane, socially unaware psychotics that would challenge some of the profiles in the world's top asylums, both in and out of Crawford. I can't help but adore them though.

One in particular. 

 .

3. Freedom

Not having the Leaving Cert this year meant time, glorious time. It also meant I was finally doing what I want to do, art. As much as I whine about studio it was fantastic having your favourite class all week long.

My parents decided to use my free time to travel as much as possible. No longer did I have to go through my journal to find what aurals I had, or which weekends I had to spend trying to understand biology. Staying in Cork makes them restless, something tht I have definetely picked up. Nice with les filles, Liverpool with Crawfordians, New Years and Dad's 50th in Ile de Ré, Florida and London, I even got to see the metropolis, experience the bright lights of...

...Lismore.

4. Recessionista

Finally being rid of that ghastly school skirt, i took full advantage of not going to a 'proper' college and found some brilliant pieces to wear during the year.

I bought my first vintage bits and bobs, my various cardigans, jumpers, scarves and jewellery, my 1920s ball dress and beloved loafers.

Despite looking like a lunatic anytime I go to UCC or people assuming that I will in fact become one of my grandparents soon enough, I have no desire to change.

5. Being an Idiot

It is safe to say that my passing through first year can be compared to someone being dragged through a ditch backwards. It was in no way elegant, clever and certainly not planned, but it was hilarious.

Beginning the year by being thoroughly over enthusiastic at the glow in the dark night, to becoming the phantom ride, to getting a tattoo in Liverpool, to Rag Week; drinking leftover Jameson for breakfast, getting friendly with the fella in the local offie, Alpen and soda bread fights, turning people's bodies into canvesses, tinfoil everywhere, Charlies pub at 7am and witnessing the vodka pint, to the Paddy's Day Incident, to trying to repierce my ears and failing and the constant races home from the Bróg, with or without clothes.

It has been just lovely.

Gros bisous chéris,

until July

X