Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh

Oh my God I love my school. I love Paris and I really love red wine. Peter Brook, author of the fabulous book in the picture and Theatre creature extraordinaire is coming to school on Monday to do a presentation. He is a HUGE part of the reason I am in Paris studying at Lecoq. His book is one of the first two books on Theatre I ever read, both presents from work recommended by Ben...who kicked off my whole journey. Fate. And just so you know, obviously Peter Brook is going to be so taken by my simple presence he is going to ask me to join his Theatre company in Paris and offer to pay my tuition fees. I just know it.

My name is Hannah (or Aine) and I have a problem. I just found Vintage Chanel. And her friends...Givenchy, Dior, Marc Jacobs, Dolce and Gabanna (spelling?). Oh very dear. Does Paris have support groups for this problem? I cannot live in this city as a poor student. Does anyone know any rich Russians...?

This week at school I have been mostly....failing. And I love it. Getting all my monies worth. Next week we have been set the challenge to kill each other. Okay so the teachers didn't actually use those words but they did decide our auto coeur performance project this week would involve such large numbers, i.e half the class, that this is the only outcome that can possibly be achieved. I'm just trying to decide if I should use brute force or weapons.

I got stopped at the station this week and they checked tickets. I have a Navigo card (Oyster) but I still hadn't got my photo done. The woman tried to give me an on the spot 25 euro fine. I used the only tactic open to me and burst into tears. 'I've only just arrived, I didn't know, I don't know where to begin looking for photo booths, i'm a student.' 'There are photo booths in every big station.' 'Not in this one and i've only been going through little stations.' 'You've been here 23 days. It's obligatory to get a photo. Get it today.' 'Okay'. So that afternoon off I went to a big station and paid 5 Euros (!!) for 5 little pictures of me looking like a fat crack addict with three heads. Thanks lady for showing me what I really look like. And making me look at it every day. The bitch.

Last night I was supposed to go to a Burlesque show but it didn't happen. So instead we went out in the 11th arr which is basically Shoreditch. Only ruder. I got annoyed at two French people who refused to move at 'Excusez moi' (which was said to them several times) they stared at me and didn't budge. I had 3 drinks in my hand and my friends were behind them so I did the only thing I could do, pushed past them and then slagged them off loudly. So they switched to English to talk about me back 'All she said was excusez moi, it wasn't clear where she was going. Idiot.' So I said LOUDLY 'In ENGLAND it's enough to simply say 'Excuse me' because we are polite and have manors. Sorry I can't explain in French where exactly i'm trying to go but I think it was pretty clear, i'm holding two drinks, nodding to the two people behind them and saying 'Excusez moi.'' I won because they left. So as usual I am quickly making friends with the locals...