Bloody Bises Encore

Just another quick rant about the bises. I've become quite used to them now, and even manage to go for the correct side most of the time, until someone from a different area comes along and throws it all into confusion. What's annoying, and I mean really annoying is when I've come into school at 8am to teach accountancy students something horribly serious and important. I squeeze past the smokers surrounding the school gate; I crawl up two flights of stairs, I reach my corridor. My classroom is approximately 15 metres away. It takes approximately 15 minutes to get to it.

Why? Because every single student seems to feel the need to greet every other student. They probably just chatted together on the bus, then separated for a few minutes. They are in the same classes all day every day; they know they're going to see each other. But still they have to kiss! Not just a simple 'hi', or a quick hug, but a full triple whack of bises. It doesn't seem to work with the few kids who have managed to form an orderly queue outside the classroom; most greetings seem to require lunging across my path for a nuzzling session, or a manly shaking of hands for a minute without stopping, blocking the corridor and thus causing a whole flurry of similar greetings as nobody wants to be left out. This is all well and good, but for goodness' sake; it's a school! Harumph.


Another mini rant in case you thought I'd finished...

Two things have struck me about the French and transport and they're so contrary that I feel the need to comment.

In cars, people never seem to notice the traffic lights changing. Well, they probably choose to have selective vision, shall we say, for red lights, but it's incredible the number of times I've been trapped at a green light because the car in front hasn't noticed it's time to move. A quick honk of the horn usually does the trick (yep, for everyone who has ever sat in my car and been instructed to shout HONK every time I was cut up or we went over that narrow bridge near home, you'll be pleased to hear that Felicia is now the proud bearer of a working horn), but it's really most unBritish, and just tends to draw more attention to the weird foreigner with her 'wrong way round car'.

In a complete reversal of this situation, the French seem to get prematurely excited about trains stopping. The first few times I saw people leap out of their seats while the train was still bobbing along at full speed, I started to panic. SPIDER!! There must be a spider! Oh my goodness, where is it?! Is it on me?! Okay, no, probably not a spider. Is there an engine failure? A bomb?! A streaker outside the train? A multi-coloured sheep that everyone's clamouring to see? I want to see! Oh wait, did someone just fart? But no, unless I have been missing something obvious every time, people do just tend to stand up on average ten minutes before their stop.

Of course, I understand if they have an enormous suitcase that needs several minute of coaxing out of the luggage racks, or if they're in a real hurry, but when it's the end of the line and everyone has to get off anyway, what's the hurry?! I try to feel all smug as I enjoy a few more minutes of sitting on my arse, but sometimes I get caught up in the euphoria of Nearly Arriving and find myself in the same situation as tall people who stand up too early on planes, and have to dodge falling luggage, small children and furries, as elbows and coats go a-flying.