Drunken secretaries and boum boum crickets

Krusty and I have long been trying to find something that we can use to further his French education, but so far, no luck.

I started with baby books, but Krusty is just not interested in those, and I tend to understand. We tried the news on the French TV channel, but he's just not ready to understand running commentary without pressing pause at every word. We tried reading the sentences of financial newspapers, but I'm just not ready to stay awake for long enough to see him through it.

And so we stumbled on a magazine supplement called "100 choses à savoir sur la fête quand on est un homme", or "100 things to know about partying for men". And it seems to be working.

Perhaps it's the feeling of not letting go of our social life even when we actually have dialled outings right down in preparation for bambino, or perhaps it's just the opportunity to learn slang like "empiffrer" (to stuff one's face) and "guincher" (party), but it seems to be working.

Every night we read a chapter together, and it has the double benefit of giving me an opportunity to keep Krusty's morals in check - we're on the office party section, and last night's chapter was entitled "Tu n'abuseras pas de la secrétaire ivre au pot de fin d'année", or "You won't abuse the drunken secretary at the end of year party". That's right Krusty, there'll be no office romances in this family!

In exchange for my linguistic knowledge, Krusty is trying to teach me the virtues of zen philosophy, and blocking out sounds that could be stressful (ie every sound in Hong Kong, really). And so, when he comes home and I complain that the THREE sets of jackhammers in our neighbourhood have been at it for 10 hours straight, he just replies "How can these noises bother you? I manage to live here and not even hear a single sound." Never mind the fact that this might be because he's not actually at home all day listening to them...

And so, Krusty's exercise for me today is to consider the jackhammers, who seem to be answering each other in intensity as soon as another one starts, as just a bunch of crickets in Provence, gently calling out to each other in relaxing, rolling rhythms.

Far from me to want to contradict Krusty's idea that a jackhammer could be likened to a cricket, so here's a little extract recorded in our lounge this morning at 9am. That's right, all windows closed, just me sitting on the sofa with the recorder. Perhaps I should send this recording to a spa for their massage soundtrack... You decide: relaxing or mind-blowingly unhealthy?!