The Next Chapter of my Life: Moving On

... Or Moving In?

Apologies for lack of posts recently - this last week has been a huge blur of madness, mess and picking my life up again! But also lacking in my life is an antagonist… oh, dear Caroline, where art thou to create chaos and mayhem?

But nevertheless, it is most certainly a lot more peaceful and calming without crazed lunatics in my life other than myself! 

*BEFORE*

 Sunday - Moving In..

 

It’s hard to believe I’ve been here a week. It feels like forever, but in a good way! Last Sunday I looked round the house for the first time - amazingly even better than the photos, and then after carrying box after box up the stairs, I then decided to put up Rosie’s trampoline (she lives round the corner!) and bounce my troubles away. Yes, putting up a trampoline in the middle of moving house, ha! A week later I am just about unpacked, thanks to the help of my fantabulous bookcase to hold my own personal Blockbuster-sized DVD collection and several under-the-bed boxes for my mass of clothes despite the 3 bin bags of ‘clothes for car boot’. And my cushions fit in beautifully. :)

One of the first nights here, I was unloading more clutter from my car (I cannot believe how much clutter has propagated since I left! I SWEAR this must be proof that my belongings have minds of their own. I throw something out and they breed another 40! They’re like magnets in a room of iron filings!) Anyway, I always walk around outside in socks, which is never a good idea for many reasons, and I came back to my room realising I had something stuck to my foot, so pulled it off, and immediately had a panic attack as I realised I’d trod on some horrendously HUGE spider and I was TOUCHING it. It was IN my HAND. I threw it at the floor, leaping over my suitcases and strewn clothes to my life-saving box of tissues (always there to the rescue to clear up/swat bugs!), and then cautiously returning to peek round the bed post. And all I could think about was that my Dad wasn’t there to rescue me! Life is so tough when one is alone. I guess maybe I shouldn’t be one of those old, lonely cat-ladies as I’d be useless with live mice tearing round the house (I once woke up with a live rabbit hopping madly around my room, brought in by my cat). I can just imagine vaulting up onto a stool holding a broomstick with this mouse scuttling for it’s life around the table… So the reality of living independently: No one to save you. 

I also had another ‘foreign’ experience (I thought I was rid of all that now!) when I went to the mini Tesco’s nextdoor to buy my first pot of washing machine soap. I knew the brand - the one I’ve grown up with - but just got so confused by all these ‘liquitabs’, gels, and powders, and they didn’t have the big bottle my mother uses… It reminded me of cleaning products etc in France where I’d have to decipher the labels searching for the word ‘bacteria/bacti/bacterium’ (all Latin roots, so translation is easy!). In the end I called Dad, before settling on the Fairy Non-Bio Liquitabs. ‘Softening your world’, one sock at a time… :)

And taken this morning: 

Let's close this chapter and move on

Survived the night without a barrage of police led by a very batty and crazed Caroline, and we left early to get on with the journey to Calais with the hope of catching an earlier ferry. We passed several of near-deserted towns - small clusters of houses in the middle of nowhere where you expect to see horse-drawn carts and vegetables growing on every scrap of land. It made me realise how lucky I was to have been so close to Paris, and sympathise any au-pair who had fallen for ‘we live in a quiet friendly town’, to then pitch up and find they’ve been transported back to the World War aftermath to barren wasteland.

We took a break at the Canadian Memorial to expand on my poor history intellect, and find inner peace after Caroline’s Crusade. It was quite amazing the surroundings, almost like being in some Buddhist sanctuary - green clean grass, tall forests of trees, serenity. 

When we finally arrived at Calais port I seriously thought at Passport control that I’d come up as some wanted criminal, but nevertheless I was allowed through. *wipes bead of sweat away*

Just to emphasise, that most au-pairing opportunities are very exciting and fulfilling experiences, complete with loveable dogs and happy children, and there is probably a very rare minority to have deranged lunatics for host ‘mothers’, the threat of an army of police and a rotavator (garden plough) thrown into the mayhem. Really, au-pairing is fun! And if I’ve certainly come away with an experience, good and bad, including handling crazy French women, being scammed, fined and harassed (all in good humour of course) and surviving the French way of life. I am grateful though that I’ll never have to be surrounded my grated emmental again however, as it really does smell revolting...

And to all my lovely readers, have no fear - independence doesn't end here! Wipe that tear, this blog is about my year so let's continue on this blogosphere! :)

Fleeing from France

My belongings have conclusively bred, in objection to my leaving. Really. And my hatred for the three flights of spiral stairs has depended since having to make tens of journeys up and down with shoeboxes. So once I was cleared out of the house and Dad had saved me  arrived, we took the train into the centre of Paris one last time to Charles de Gaulle, by the Arc de Triomphe. After climbing (and consequently descending) the 284 steps to the top of Arc de Triomphe we walked from the monumental arch, sorrowfully leaving the stunning I-don’t-have-a-pair-like-those-already elegant trousers from Zara on the rack, buying an ‘I Love Paris’ t-shirt (couldn’t leave without one!), down to Notre Dame, up and down the right bank three times in search for Shakespeare and Co which we eventually found after giving up, and down to Bastille. A sunny and relaxing day. Until Caroline’s intrusion. And I seriously had no idea how ‘crazy’ she could get.

Tip 1. Establish a ‘PAY ME’ routine from the moment you arrive as an au-pair, and always keep on top of it - so you make sure you get paid on the same day each and every week. I tried. I really did. It sounds a lot easier than reality, particularly if you have parents coming and going and trying to avoid you or pull the ‘we paid you didn’t we?’ trick. But Connie doesn’t give up easily, no siree. So I pretty much chased her round the house, in a completely polite and un-obsessive way (!) as each time she’d walk out or mumble something and disappear. In the end she ACTUALLY disappeared… back to Paris! 

So Friday she spent trying to reason why she shouldn’t pay me two-weeks’ pay, including the debacle with the garden plough. Tip 2. Have family on hand, even on speed dial. My granny ended up doing more of the battling than me! But over the 24 hours I felt like I was in the next French 100 years war with this ever-increasing irrational French woman. What have I got myself into? Is it ever possible for me to leave somewhere without burning bridges?

Late afternoon consisted of waiting for Margot to never turn up, resulting in no tennis, and Caroline demanding I bring Marie on the train to Paris (Charles de Gaulle) to drop her off with Caroline (of course, it was up to me to pay for our tickets…), so we headed off to Paris still with no response from Margot. Once again we spent a long time searching for Caroline - such irony that the same exact thing happened on the first day I arrived with Marie - due to the numerous exits around one of the main monuments of Paris. She handed my money over, relatively stress-free,  and I returned home on the train pulling along Marie’s rejected school bag. Once at home I discovered there to be no sign of Margot, so my Dad came and collected me, I left all my keys on the table as Caroline had requested and closed the door for the last time. Let’s close this chapter and go home! 

But not quite. Later that evening when I went back to my phone I found several messages and calls from Caroline, launching into vicious texts of threats and accusations that I’d ‘abandoned’ Margot before reducing to literally begging me to rescue her because she’d gone back to the house (despite me bringing Marie all the way to Paris…) and realised she had no keys. She DID have keys, as I was the one who had to go to the key-cutters three times in one day to get her some spare keys: she’s such a scatterbrain that I knew she’d lose them within moments. And apparently it slipped out of her brain the fact she said and I said I’d leave all my keys on the table for her, just in case I turn out to be a crazed-lunatic who returns to the house of hell in the dead of night to pinch their much-beloved cereal. Exactly. 

So after a night out with Dad converting me into the world of Sushi, we returned to the hotel and I was delighted to find he’d got me my own room, which was more of a small apartment complete with kitchen area, cupboards full of utensils, two study desks and a large bathroom. I was in heaven. Well, I would have been had I not been paranoid that a battalion of French police were going to crash through my door at any moment. I still don’t even know why Caroline got so crazed and angry! I eventually had a reply back from Margot, delightedly informing me that ‘so sorry I forgot about tennis, I’m staying at a friends Gros Bisous!!!’. Maybe it’s just as well I’d fled the house just so Margot wasn’t around to savagely throttle. 

It's feeling like a game of Jumangi here... Anyone who has seen the film will know it's about a magic board game which descends the players into a living nightmare with a host of dangers that can only be stopped by finishing the game. Is it time to throw it back into the sea yet?!

One Day to go!

Another rushed day. But my last night here! And I'm not one bid morose about it. I was expecting William home to pounce on him for payment, but instead I was required to collect Caroline from the station in the next town. I was halfway through cooking tea, so drained the rice (which fortunately was cooked) and left the meat in the pan (un-cooked) to spend half an hour driving round looking for her. To add to that, she told me she was at the train station, so I arrived there to the discover she was actually at the Metro. Which is the other side of the town. Why she couldn't have stayed on until the next stop in our HOMETOWN is beyond me. We returned, and she immediately demanded dinner... despite me having sat in the car for the last half hour. Do you see why I won't miss this bit? She then proceeded to guilt-trip me by the fact she hadn't managed to find another au-pair. Total cringe, total awkwardness, total 'can I just dig my grave and jump in now?' moment. I didn't bother to slip in the fact I may have helped her had it not put me in contempt of false advertising by going along with an advert anything like the one I saw last summer.

I am already down one child, as Juliette disappeared off on holiday this morning. It's like the Sound of Music again, where everyone's escaping at the slightest possible chance! William is apparently back on his skiing trip, and it transpires that the dog is 'a la montagne' which just makes me think of 'it' sitting looking very bewildered on top of a snow peak. But, there are no mountains in Paris so I am safe.

So I spent the day wandering round Chatelet and the shopping mall there, it was unbearably hot though - reaching 30C.

My room is looking much emptier now, although resembling more like Brantano's Stock room than a bedroom, as I've ended up packing everything... into shoeboxes. And I swear, my stuff has BREEDED! I didn't even know I HAD this many shoe boxes (I did not buy all the shoes to go inside, I may add), but I am sitting facing a wall of them. I do have a super-cool photo of my wall, but Blogspot is telling me I'm up to my 'upload limit'. Since WHEN do blogs have an upload limit? This is actually very frustrating as I am SO CLOSE to coming to the end of my au-pair time. Like, 3 pictures more 'close'.

And after an evening of being terrorised by Caroline, cold-shouldered by Marie and the kitchen once again in an absolute mess to sort out tomorrow, I am unsurprisingly extremely relieved to be leaving this house once and for all! I did get slightly emotional when I was looking at a map of Paris earlier, and realising that 'I'm off to town' is now 'Stratford-upon-Avon' and not 'Paris' in a day. But still, we'll always have Paris! Hopefully next time I come (oh yes, I'll be back!) I can enjoy the city for all that it is and stands for, without worrying about the school run, food shopping or bumping into either of the parents whilst I'm trying to have a life!

A Day in the Life

7-8.00 is the hour of rushing up and down around three floors attempting to get the girls out on time. It's the last Wednesday, we'll MAKE it a good one, starting with being on bloody time! Marie suddenly appears at 8 as we're leaving - I didn't even wake her up but apparently she has communion. At what point did this become a regular activity? The next hour is spent doing a typical school run, arriving bang on time. Turning into a bit of a WonderWoman here (but no lycra red leotard, sorry guys)!

9-10 is surprisingly an hour of contentment. Contentment? On a Wednesday? Who'd have thought! William's out, so no over the top lunch expected, so this morning is BLISS. Yes - Au-pairing, wednesday, school run, bliss. Then back in the car an hour later hanging around by school for kids who are consistently late. It's become a new past time - sitting in a Scenic made incubator. And it is 26 degrees outside! I am literally melting.

12-1.00 observes the house transform from calm to chaos, Juliette's guitar lesson commences which only encourages her to play the SAME SONG over and over and over and over and OVER again (seriously, this week, it's not the dog making me insane, not to girls, not even the parents, it's that horrible, SLOW, soppy, uninteresting, mind-numbingly boring song she won't stop playing on her guitar. Accompanied with the same, slow, pitiful, 'moan' singing. *Screams into pillow* It actually makes me want to whack on some screamo music - I can see why Margot likes it so much. Lunch is a success, helped by the fact I don't have the parents standing over me, demanding pork, chicken and frankfurter-mush (that was a couple of weeks ago), and helping but not helping, and wanting to eat outside, and then me laying the table outside... today, it was LEI-SURE-LY.

By 4.30 I'm exhausted. I'm officially worn out. Pass me the stretcher and I'll just die now. I have been an ANGEL and spent the afternoon entertaining Marie. And entertaining young kids is not easy, hardly ever fun for you, and physically and mentally DRAINING. We did skipping (ok, well I initiated that..) but then we went on to 'cats cradle' with the most enormous elastic ever, so it was full-body cat's cradle... And when I needed the loo she clung onto my arm and wouldn't let me leave... I should get compensation for a stretched bladder!! Sod's law though that neither parent was around to see HOW GOOD an au-pair I am. Her friend arrives the time we should be leaving for Juliette and Margot, I'm sick of constantly running up and down the entire house - I just want to SLEEP. When will this stop?? Three more hours. *Bangs head on keyboard*

Another hour down. I made it successfully on the mission-impossible trip from Tennis to Ice-Skating for the last time, crash-free, everything and everyone still intact including myself and my dignity, and on time. Everything ran fairly smoothly, despite Marie attempting to stab my with the blade of her ice-skates and soon I was back in the car, manoeuvring myself around a police car which had pulled over a Clio of Rastafarian's complete with beehive-bonets round their head. At least it wasn't me they were weapon-searching. *Swift escape* Back home I run to the freezer and pull out my Last Resort meal. I have transpired into cooking a frozen pasta meal. I'm so exhausted though I'm past caring. I JUST WANT SLEEP! The half an hour passes quickly and I'm back off like a crazed-chicken to do my LAST EVER ice-skating drive. This, I am truly thankful for, as the ride home with two 9-year-olds on cola and brioche is NEVER FUN. Ever.

Collect the girls, and on returning home for the umpteenth time today, discover that half the pasta I cooked has... vanished. Gone. Been eaten. The suspect weapon: a fork lying beside the pan. I serve dinner up only to find that William isn't having any AND he needs me to take him the the station. NO NO NO NO 'Yes, bien sur!' shall I roll out a red carpet and fan you as I'm driving as well? But it's now 8pm and my day is over.  I feel absolutely run-down, exhausted, dead and like I've been hit by a dozen freight-trains, BUT I'VE MADE IT. And the relief is that I never ever have to go through an Au-pair's Wednesday again. They should come with health warnings.

This is the Last Time..

Last time ever doing food shopping for this family. Sad? Not in the slightest. Relieved? Yes siree. Going to miss the Ed chain stores? Not. One. Bit. i have to admit though, I was getting very speedy with the trolley around the store, managing the whole food shop plus paying and loading up the trolly in under 20 minutes! But I am SO GLAD it's over. You know, today, they did not have SOAP. What? Yes. SOAP. They were out of SOAP *mini heart-attack*, and don't even assume they'll EVER have something as complex at moisturiser, dishcloths or kitchen foil. But done and dusted, and fortunately for me I have a spare emergency travel-pot of my favourite hand soap. because I am CLEAN like that. :)

Then I headed off to Le Marais (vintage vicinity), and traipsed up and down between Bastille and Hotel de Ville, but I do want to go back there on Thursday (it is SO amazing) so today wasn't a 'Goodbye Marais' for good. I held up my tradition of constantly being late to meet Catie, and ran into Starbucks like a crazed lunatic 6 minutes late. I want to take the time now, to apologise to Catie for the many many many times I've been late. I actually think I can remember exactly THREE times where I've arrived before her. It's shocking, I know. I'M SORRY CATIE! So we had our final hour together in Paris in the Starbucks where they're actually starting to recognise us now... 

This afternoon was so hot and sunny, which helped continue my happy mood. I carried on packing - I'm short on storage boxes, so I've been using several shoe boxes... At least it ticks the 'light packing' check-box! And I love my Dad SO MUCH as he's booked a hotel to stay in, and I'm just so happy it's all finally in place, finally happening, and I'm actually going home in four days. FOUR DAYS!

Also, I'd like to announce the fact that this evening I cooked Pork Chops for the LAST TIME EVER. (Hopefully.) And yes, I would say they were pretty successful! Definitely something that improves with practise. I will warn you now though that I am not willing to show off my new culinary skills with pork chops, so put down your steak knives and buy some sausages. (Although those are a bugger to cook as well - you always get one side more cooked than the other. You know what? JUST EAT TOAST!)

And next comes The Last Wednesday. Huge sigh of relief... which will probably be more beneficial after the day has left me exhausted, traumatised and near-death... They should make T-Shirts aimed for all au-pairs/carers in France which say 'I Hate Wednesdays'. I only know this will sell as the 'I Hate Mondays' are very popular already.

The Dark Side of The Pyramid

Today I finally achieved a trip to The Louvre. The museum of all museums. Home to Mona Lisa and 35000 other pieces of art works. People say you couldn’t see everything within a day/week/lifetime. I have the opinion that it’s all down to how fast you walk and how long you scrutinize over each piece of art. I’m afraid to announce that I am most definitely a ‘Yup, seen it, moving on’ person… 

  

  

A lot of monuments and buildings in Paris are absolutely incredible - the architecture never ceases to amaze me, but I feel that once you go inside, it’s rather disappointing. Most of them require you to slowly walk round in a loop round the entire building - whether it’s an art gallery, cathedral, or maze of staircases, and you lose the awe and amazement you get from it’s uniqueness when staring at it from outside. 

But, it is a massive box ticked off now, and I can no longer be bullied by old people when I tell them I’ve been to Paris and still haven’t been inside the Louvre (really, I was very happy just standing beside the Glass Pyramid!). I went with Catie, who’s been there once but it proved extremely useful when needing a direct route to the Mona Lisa. Which, to my surprise, was actually WAY BIGGER than expected! Maybe because so many people go on to say how small it is, I was expecting a post-card sized canvas in a highly-embellished gold frame… so it was a lot bigger than I thought! And we also went to see the Easter Island Head, which I love purely and simply because it features in ‘Night at the Museum’. And after a bit more wandering around and admiring many more sculptures and paintings, we enjoyed a piece of modern art in the form of Starbucks. Really, making hot chocolate and Chai Latte’s is requires a great deal of skill, and I’m sure the Starbucks symbol could be classed as pop art - a big ‘movement’ in the world of art history.(‘Art is lost on youths these days'…)

  

  

Then we tired ourselves out by walking up Rue Rivoli, and all the way up to Galleries LaFayette to see ‘the one with the good ceiling’ (I love you Catie!), and check out the designer shops and beauty stalls in the woman’s department. And by ‘good ceiling’ she meant the incredible glass dome window at the top of Galleries LaFayette...

  

And a bit of a bonus… the dog has disappeared! I don’t think it was around much this weekend, I think it’s staying with Jean (pronounced ‘John’) and Sabine… but this is pretty good progress! Maybe if the parents could disappear too, or -even better- just all the mess!  If the dog has died, firstly, the family have taken it very well, and secondly, couldn’t it have gone sooner?? I endure the damn thing for 8 months and a WEEK before I leave that’s when it decides to disappear? Just to relieve you, no I haven’t slipped cyanide into the dog water, and I highly suspect that it isn’t dead (the devil doesn't want his spawn back yet… *must spread more evil*), and the dog is more likely to be taking a nice vacation elsewhere. Hopefully for the duration of the week. On the down side of things, Marie appears to be taking on a 'gunna give you hell' act for me... We'll see how it progresses this week. Maybe I could tell her the dog had died!?! [Things NOT to do as an au-pair: lie about their pet dying to make them stop being so bratty.]

Mums the word

Well, Happy Mothers' Day to all mothers out there. Except in France, and probably/possibly a few other countries... I discovered today that La fête des Mères (Mothers' Day in France) is May/June time. So no celebrations today then. 


It rained and poured today, which mucked up all my plans - primarily L'Arc de Triomphe, so instead I stayed home, planned out a list of things I'd do this coming week, and then spent an hour or so compiling a short movie for my own Mum, and then another FOUR HOURS uploading it so I could actually send it to her. It was worth it though...(it made her cry!).




And I also spent today endlessly cleaning the kitchen. I know it's my day off, but NOTHING WAS BEING DONE! It was ridiculous! I've already put through 2 full dishwasher loads, and I know there'll be even more mess downstairs this evening, all for me to sort out tomorrow. Bahh. *more whale noises*


I shouldn't care. I have FIVE DAYS. Five days. I can remain alive and relatively sane for five whole remaining days. I won't let them get to me! Not their stupid morning alarm ringtones, their screamo music from the bathroom and Avril Lavigne obsessions, the mess, the DOG (oh, the dog!), blahh five more days. And I will NEVER EVER have to cook a goddamn pork-ruddy-chop ever again. SUCH FUN!

A Weekend in Paris

...A name of a really good Chick-Lit (ideal holiday reading) where a young, intelligent woman with an organised life-plan spontaneously quits her job (her boss was horrible) and goes on a weekend to Paris. Buttt I haven't spent the past 9 months or so writing about her. This is MY story.

Anyway, this is my last weekend -AS AN AU-PAIR- in Paris, so I couldn't just sit around doing boring things. I need fireworks and dancing at the top of the Eiffel Tower and buying tacky toys! Something to round off the whole experience. So I composed a list of things I wanted to re-see, (just in case I went home and felt I hadn't seen Notre Dame enough times...), and had a leisurely day around Paris. Ok, so no fireworks or Eiffel Tower-dancing, but all in good time.

 

I found another Space Invader at Place du Chatelet - so many people miss it, but it is right on the fountain. Mr Invader really is a sneaky little devil (but we love him so)!

  

 

Whilst the world is desperate for a piece of Paris, a piece of Paris is treasuring the iconic figure of Stratford-upon-Avon - my home town. I've known about Shakespeare and Co. for a while now - it's a famous English Literature bookshop and library on the Left Bank/Latin Quarter of Paris. And it is truly amazing. I think I have found my favourite place in Paris! It's alongside Notre Dame which I've always loved, so a brilliant view of the cathedral, and the Latin Quarter in general is just buzzing! It's beautiful - think narrow cobbled mazes of streets, cluttered with cafes, restaurants, shops, galleries... And inside Shakespeare and Co. was magical! It is LITTERED with books, and really interesting ones! (Not the old, dusty hardbacks no one wants to read which I expected it to have.) So DEFINITELY go!! And because it's so close to Notre Dame it won't even take out too much of your jam-packed schedule, although I think you'd actually end up spending more time in the bookshop than you would in Notre Dame!

 

I bought two books, 12€ total, one of which is Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, a book I've really wanted to read! So I was very happy, and the other book is amazing too - I ended up walking to the Louvre (more Space Invader searching) and sitting in one of the smaller gardens in the Tuileries and reading. It was so relaxing, and amazing. No fireworks but I sure had a good time! Sometimes the simplest things can bring the most pleasure and happiness.

One Gal Band

See this? This was my morning. Cue sound effect: kerching! Marie had communion at 8 this morning, so I successfully had all three girls at school by 8. 

I also feel I should tell you my amazing feat last night, involving… very little. Instead of Mother Hubbard, it was me going to the cupboard, to discover it was bare. Also the fridge, and nothing in the freezer. And everyone just seemed to expect me to cook tea. THERE WAS NOTHING. So with my incredible materializing skills, I conjured up a family meal with rice, but then realised there was only one burger left - our last piece of meat. Unless I count the dog but I think Marie would have noticed sooner or later... So I cut up this tiny burger into small pieces and mixed it in with a tin of ratatouille. I’m officially the New Paul Daniels. (Although whilst he could make big things into small things, I can turn small things into feeding the 500.) 

So getting back home at 8.15 in the morning was certainly a bonus, and I set about entertaining myself with Juliette's guitar. I can’t believe she’s got THREE and I’ve never had the urge to even pick up one and see how bad my skills are. 

I also made time to meet up with friends, sit in Starbucks complaining about the French in general, and moan about how our families committed some serious false-advertising or misleading adverts when we were first searching for a host family. Let me decipher some now for you. The kids eat lunch at home means: find a different family because there goes your free time during the day. Pets mean: they will also, most likely become your responsibility. It's too bad I'm allergic to their vile dog, but more truthfully, I'm just allergic to all things that I don't like. Part of the family means: we want to feel comfortable enough with you to ask you favours without having to pay you extra. And Strong willed/lively/vivacious means: ...it means that you never want to hear or read this from a parent who is describing their child(ren). 

Caroline was still hanging around this evening, and decided to make full use of the fact I only work in the week by asking me to 1) do food shopping ‘for breakfast and meat’ and 2) fill up the car, all before picking the girls up in 40 minutes from Tennis. I’m starting to believe that all my wails and moans of frustration and despair would soon attract a shoal of killer whales to the shore if I was anywhere near water… I did the shopping, but then she burst into my room later in the evening demanding what the hell I’d bought - breakfast food and meat! She couldn’t understand why the fridge was still empty, even when I explained that I didn’t have much time, she strictly (STRICTLY) told me to buy ONLY breakfast foods and meat (and I’m pretty sure it’s the same in France and in England that cereals and bread live in the cupboards) and meat, which is in the fridge and freezer. I shouldn’t have to be stocking up the house for a weekend banquet!