A fascinating insight into the mind of a Grill from my time in France.

I’ve developed quite a style in these forn lands. As I was only planning to stay two days (rather than six), I’ve developed two separate outfits. The first is my travelling kit; it just so happens to be the clothes I was wearing when I flew out which, obviously, stink. The second set is whatever else was in my bag, which stinks slightly less and is my conversational kit. As I speak less French than English, I do everything in my power to avoid human contact (Eating large breakfasts and skipping lunch, walking instead of getting taxis, etc.). As also I can’t remember how many euros there are to the pound, or vice versa, this saves me further embarrassment. When the days begins I guestimate whether I’m going to have to talk to anybody and whether I’m going to care about stinking like a bishop’s morals, and then put on the appropriate clothing set.

Argue with me