juillet 2008

Until the end of the school year, I was teaching part time in a very posh school, the name of which I will keep to myself. The scandal is really too great. Excommunication is in the air, no less. It is very religious school. The chapel, of vast proportions, is nested inside the building. Biblical quotes are copied on the walls for personal edification. About 60% of the students are of aristocratic descent (the triple-barrelled names give it away, so do the worn-out Cyrillus outfits) or have very rich parents. Of course, it is... [Lire la suite]

Worse than the administration penpushers, and one rung down on the evolution ladder, are security staff members. Getting a visa, albeit diplomatic, requires you to pay two visits to the consulate. When I first dropped my application, it was almost 30°C in Paris so I wasn't wearing much. A mini skirt and a tshirt. And I was still sweating like an angora rabbit trying to get a suntan on a St Tropez beach. The security guy made me empty my bag, tried a couple of lame jokes which I ignored politely. He then asked me to walk through the... [Lire la suite]