oh christ you've opened the flood gates
French Exchange, Lyon, c.1986. Fucking twat frog 'penpal' wrote to me before I left and told me to bring Ski gear. All excited, my mum bought me the whole lot, at great expense at the time. Not bad for someone who lived at least 200 miles from any kind of mountain. This was going to be a FANTASTIC french exchange. Skiing! How posh! (remember 1986, I'd only ever seen it on telly).

Finally arrived Chez Guillame, as was his name. All very exciting, we're conversing about madonna albums and things. His mum takes my suitcase to put my things away in my room. In those days, the exchanges were long - about 4 weeks. The ski-wear was bulky and thus the amount of normal clothes was greatly reduced - enough for about 3 or 4 days so would have to be washing a lot. Suddenly, we hear his mum burst in to laughter. The whole family ran in to my room and all joined in the laughter. I followed them. All five of them were wetting themselves at the sight of all my ski gear. All of which I was immensely proud of. I couldnt work out what was so funny and went horribly, horribly red. They seemed to laugh for hours. Eventually, Guillame explained to me that the whole ski-ing thing was a joke! I wasnt really meant to bring ski wear. They thought it would just be hilarious to tell me to bring it. I dont think they thought for a second my mum would have to spend £200+ on gear. A shitload of money in 1986 for an unemployed housewife.

Fucking french twat. We spent 4 weeks fighting. On the last day i utterly flipped and broke the little fuckers nose. I was dragged off him by his mother and sent to stay with someone else for the last night. I remember that last day with great glee.

I might post the activities of the middle 4 weeks of that trip, they're pretty bad.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 14:59, Reply)