Monday, 21 January 2013

The Picture of Dorian Gray

There are two parts to this blog. The first will interest those who, for reasons unbeknown to myself, are kind enough and interested enough to read the petty going-ons of my life here in France.

The second is entirely for me, and is utterly self-aggrandising. You will forgive me, I hope, but it is only a little moment and it is entirely pointless.

So: today has been a most excellent day, in which I have spoken more French than I have spoken at any other point so far. My English colleague was unfortunately snowed in today, which has meant that I have spoken nothing but French all day. Wonderful times. I will confess, however, that of all the days on which I am permitted to speak only French, today was not the perfect one - we found a disparity of some 18.000€, which is most alarming. The root is proving tricky to find when my grasp of accountancy French is not as strong as it perhaps might be.

I signed some more people up for English lessons at lunch and booked the rooms for language lessons for next week - last term I let it get on top of me, but I've learnt my lesson and will book them well in advance from now on - and then had a most interesting discussion with a young man called Juan, regarding the Bible and the "nuclear family." I am always fascinated by the process of logic by which an otherwise sensible young man throws years of education to one side and insists that although his only proof is God, it is sufficient proof to condemn gay men and lesbian women who wish to marry.

This is not the place for a furious diatribe on why, exactly, that is bollocks from beginning to end, but suffice it to say that I am for equal marriage, and anyone who wishes to oppose it will find me as their opponent. A man who says he has friends who are gay but would oppose their right to marriage does not, in my opinion, understand the meaning of friend.

Or perhaps understands it so well that he wishes to save his friend from that particular hell, but I suspect that is not the case.

In the afternoon I became my alter-ego, Technical-Help-Man, and aided in the conversion of two stubborn files for my colleagues. It is so exciting to see the older generation - I have no fear of saying that because one day, and I am sure that day is not in the distant future, that label will be applied to me - embracing technology with such fervour. I think it's important to keep everyone in the loop, and tech is becoming such an important social measuring-stick that we must all be kept up to scratch.

I left the office this afternoon tired but happy as my colleague took over to run her TOEIC preparation classes. I can foresee more classes being needed before long and a return to a later reveille but also a later départ, which I am not so keen on. We shall see. I also start French lessons tomorrow; having met some of my classmates I am confident that my level of French will be in the top quarter of the class, but we shall see what we shall see.

And now the second part, which is entirely self-indulgent. My university amateur dramatic society is putting on The Picture of Dorian Gray by Mr Wilde, a man whose tomb I recently smooched. It is one of my favourite books and to see it turned into a play without me is awful. I feel as though I have fallen asleep on Christmas Eve and woken up on Epihany. I have missed everything I have waited so long for. It is heartbreaking. It is a tragedy. It is utterly melodramatic; that is to say, I am making a great song (melos) and dance about it.

As a result I have made like Dr House and filmed my audition from a far off country. You may view the audition below or you may continue on your merry way without pause.


I apologise for the wordiness; reading Wilde always makes me so.

I can't apologise for the words, because they are not mine - which would require apology - nor are they Wilde's, in which case no apology would be needed.