Thursday, 19 January 2012

I Don't Speak French, so I let the funky music do the talking...‏

Okay fine, yes the title was borrowed from a shockingly bad Girl’s Aloud song...but it seems to fit so tough, it’s staying.

Having never really been fussed about France before, despite its near proximity, I have recently found myself a little bit of a convert. I’m drinking French wine,  hitting New York’s French bistros and learning all sorts of French things all of a sudden.

Actually what has happened is I met a boy. He’s a nice one at that, well he is so far.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not about to hop back over the Atlantic, move to Paris and start to learn a crazy new language (what would be the point, he lives here), but the accent is so divine I can’t stop listening to him and yet often don’t hear a thing he’s said.

We’ve managed a couple of dates so far and, to my knowledge, I‘ve kept very cool about the whole thing. I must say though, he is dark , a little bit intense and wears Hermes aftershave.

So I’m obviously now thinking what every girl would be...drive me to Vegas!

XOXO

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