Hatrick

Thomas has bought a new hat, a deerstalker like the famous detective Sherlock Holmes wore on his famous adventures round Victorian London. Elementary my dear Jenny, now get me some heroin. He bought it in a boutique of hats, a hattery as they say in France. Where's that heroine Jenny? It's woolen and blue, and has little earflaps that tie up in a pretty bow. He's now looking for a magnifying glass- now YOU know what it feels like Mr. Glass! Jenny, hail me a hansom cab.

The Cours Professional

One week of school has now been nailed by Jay and I. I've had quite a few emails asking what the course is like so, if you're interested in applying or just interested in what we do every day, here are the basics:

The Cours Professional, which is the acting course, is taught for four hours a day, five days a week. Each day is divided into three lessons: an hour and a half of improvisation, an hour of movement and an hour of working on your auto-cours.

The auto-cours, as those French speakers out there might have guessed, is where you take control of the lesson yourself. Every week you divide into groups of about 5 or 6 and have to create and rehearse a scene based on an inspiriation given by the teachers. This week the inspiration was 'a place and a happening'. Because it was the first week there was a massive language divide as the foreign students attempted to get a grip on this slippery french. Luckily in my group there was a girl who spoke impeccable Fench and English. She was Swedish, naturally.

Jay's auto-cour was set in a church. Mine was set in a lift. They were both panned. But then, every group was panned during the show on Friday where you show your work to the whole year. 'Pas juste', is their big catchphrase: false, unreal.

There are about 100 people in our year, of which roughly half are French, a quarter are english speaking and the rest are from literally all over the world. There was a girl in my auto-cours from an island East of Mauritius. That's like, miles away. On the first day those 100 are divided into three groups who you then spend the rest of the year with.

The improvisation classes are probably the most difficult in terms of the language barrier. Although all the improvisations are silent (not colours and animals yet, but we'll get there), when you get feedback it's entirely in French and can be quite hard to follow. Apparently Jay smiles and nods through being told he was terrible. It should be said that nobody gets told they're good. It's very morale boosting. Each day you get a new sut-up which so far has been something like, walking into a room and without words trying to show what room it is, what time it is, what you're doing there etc.

Jay and I have maybe found the movement classes the most enjoyable over the first week. To be honest I find them hilarious because the room is so big that I can't always hear the instructions (and when I can I might as well not have) so I literally just copy the person next to me. Which is hard when you have to lie on your back with your eyes closed.

Flat Night

The French for Friday is Flat Night. That was lesson one. Flat Night is Friday; Friday is Flat Night. Synonymous. Got it?

Ill tell you what we mean when we say ‘Flat Night’. We mean we go friggin crazy; we mean girls, girls, boys; we mean booze, and lots of it; beer, beer, beer; we mean shakin the dancefloor with our thrusting booties. Flat Night means it’s Happy Hour all night.

So, at 22.00 we log onto www.drinknation.com and find us some drinking games to propel our enjoyment of Flat Night. We get boozing with beer. We play some shit and laugh some more. Jenny dries her hair but she’s also going mental because its Flat Night; we nail a counting game. Flat Night.

We leave our logement at approximately 23.15 to find a hole to get beer’d. This is achieved in the Marais. We do more beer in a bar.We look boho. We are boho. Tommy smiles - the women go mad.

We move on after a group of bisexuals drop some fizzling chat into our melting pan. Jenny hitches a bike ride with Xavier who works for Danone but really wants to be an actor; we strut like dandies. We walk over the river; the flood lit buildings drunkenly stare at our Flat Night. In a blur of time we encounter our destination. Drinks are cheap; the music is alluring. It’s Flat Night.

The Dogg (first name Snoop) rifles his beats around the cellar. The bisexuals begin to move in on an increasingly oblivious Jay. But hey, that’s flat night.

Eng-ger-land

At last a solid 'English' performance. I'm sick of watching all these long haired dive-mongers try and frog their way through a man's game. And if they're not dancing they're thinking, sewing on the bench like a woman or an Italian, thinking all the time, thinking their little Swedish thoughts. What do they know about Saint Georgge? But now we've got English thoughts: like fighting and heading. Real man's thoughts, like how far you can kick the ball. And statistics. With statistics you're either right or wrong, John Terry or David Beckham. Who would you rather be standing next to in a trench? John Terry because he's bigger. Men against boys.

It's just like McClaren said, keep it simple. Have everyone playing for England where they play for their clubs. Sven needs his glasses cleaned if he can't see that Chelsea, United, Liverpool, Spurs (all the good English teams, not like that dirty mudblood Arsenal, with only that traitor Walcott in the squad) play 5-3-2. Simple.

God save the queen.

la Nuit Blanch

On saturday night 'La Nuit Blanche' took place all over Paris. It was a collection of art exhibitions, installations, films and performances that were all free, all night and all over the city.

We walked through the streets at midnight and followed a trail of pink balloons. These clusters of balloons, which hung above doors and down alleys, marked different pieces of art. As we wandered beneath trees hanging with clear plastic sculptures and past films emblazoned onto the walls of a church we were confused as to why there didn't seem to be the infrastructure for anything like this in England? Is there no funding because there's no market, or is it the other way round? After having this conversation we went into a marqee filled with sand where, on the far wall, the image of a polynesian beach, all palm trees and blue water, was projected. After leaving the installation Jenny was frustrated, and we admitted that none of the art we had seen had really impressed us that much. But, we wondered, if we and, it seemed, so many Parisians had enjoyed the walk and had at least tried to engage with the art, was that justification enough? In London there seem to be lots of festivals in celebration of a theme, but what would the reaction be to a vaguer, more diffuse, night of art?

Jay's Story

Of the three of us I have been in Paris the longest. So this is probably going to be the most interesting part of our blog. It also means that I have done the most stuff. It also also means that I am now the most bored.

The stuff I have done so far is (in order):

• Pompidou Centre – the inside-out concept is really nice.

• The Left Bank – pretended to be a proper bigtime boho; didn’t pull it off because it rained and my plimsolls got wet.

• I went to the bank (a financial bank, not a bank of the Seine).

• I went to the Louvre to take a peek at the Mona Lisa through the hoards of Japanese tourists. Unfortunately the French museums permit the use of cameras – taking pictures of pictures really annoys me.

• I went shopping to get more boho.

• It became beer o’clock and so I went boozing to a metrosexual club with Eccleshare. It was free drinks for a while – I indulged, which subsequently enabled me and Jenny to shake the dancefloor to its knees.

• Recovered from a hangover by watching football in a bar with Eccleshare. Got bored of England so went to watch the French game.

• Me and Jenny went to Mass.

Jenny's first week at school

This week at school I played alot of tag and rolled around on the floor whilst hugging people. My teacher says I am a mormon. Living with Thomas and Jay has been like being on the best rollercoaster of my life. Jay is a fantastic cook. Thomas has a big appetite.

For Your Convenience

Bonjour and welcome to our blog. Enjoy this easy-to read English while it lasts because in 6 weeks we'll be writing this in French- and that's a promise!

So check it: we'll be dropping it so you can pop it exactly when you want, how you want. No nonce-ass e-mail clutter, no wise-guy inbox explosions just good old fashioned blogging. Just like the old days.

Come to our blog if you want to know what we're up to, to know what this crazy old city we like to call Paris has been up to with us, and hell, we might even throw in some football banter too. And don't forget to keep your peepers peeled for 'Jay's Monday Recipe', for those quiet nights in... Keep coming and we'll keep posting! And that's a promise!

Also watch out for some tres bien videos! Vodcasts, vidiblogs, photoscriptionmale and everything else you could want- all on this blog.

Feel free to send us feedback and messages of love. But mostly feedback please.

Coming up soon: 'la Nuit Blanche', 'Jenny's First Week at School' and 'Jay and those Crazy Pigeons'

All love, Jay, Jenny and Thomas. x