Twelve

Had an eventful past couple of days. Night out Erasmus style on Thursday with the girls which obviously involved plenty of mischief. Spying on fellow residents from across the courtyard.... Heckling..... eagerly anticipating the next moves of the couple across the way, who were blatantly exhibitionist. It's easy to close your shutter, and they even had curtains! Even funnier the next morning, when, hungover as we were, we fell about when we noticed them in the English department. Not through being mean, just that they had no idea that we saw them the night before.
Bar Cactus was ram-packed full of French and Erasmus students alike, a free for all with cheap drinks and sometimes vaguely cheap moves. With no space to move inside, and barely space to move outside in the smoking area, our options were limited. And involved leaving at 2am in the morning, to wait for the night bus. As we'd missed the last metro, this was our next inexpensive option, as taxis are obviously not student friendly!
On walking the 1km to Place de Republique from Bar Cactus, we found ourselves confronted with plenty of drunk students. Hundreds in fact. Who'd all had the same idea - grab the night bus home. Weary and slightly intoxicated, we sat and waited for the bus, in the vague hope that  we could somehow get on it.
Alas, the bus was full in the blink of an eye, with still plenty of people left on the pavement. Stupidly, in a drunk student's mind, walking home won't take that long, or isn't too far.
It was alright for the others, who were in flat shoes. I, in heels, had another hurdle to face. We didn't realise it was three miles back to halls.
On the way back we ran into , well , I say ran into, a French guy who seemed to be with friends, the latter of whom disappeared suddenly. He, Florian, fell into step with Sarah and I, who somehow held a conversation with him in French for the rest of the walk back to Villejean, around half an hour. Charming and somewhat attractive, although very drunk, he was a right laugh and fun to talk to, lightened the mood of our walk back.
He'll forever be remembered for dancing down the street chanting "Ooh ah, Eric Cantona!"
Probably not the best thing to be proclaiming at 3am in the centre of Rennes, but we got away with it.
He also couldn't seem to make up his mind upon which Premiership Team was his favourite.... "Liverpool!.... No, Chelsea!...... No, Arsenal!..... Ah Yes, Manchester United! Wayne Rooney!"
He bade us farewell, surprisingly a three to four minute walk away from where we're living, in true French style, a kiss on both cheeks. Lucky it was dark.
Hopefully we'll see him again someday.
Went to see "Twelve" this evening with my flatmate. A brilliant film, with excellent narration, a real atmosphere and tragic storyline. Definitely not for the faint-hearted. Also, 50 Cent plays a drug dealer, who gets his kit off at one point. Hint, go and see it. Chace Crawford - a stunning performance as "White Mike"
Trying to do my translations, Version, and Theme, is dull as dishwater. Almost enough to send someone to sleep. On which note, I may oblige,
'Night.