Les Bobos

It was the last day of my course yesterday. We had lunch all together at school, our class and the other three, and everyone brought a dish. The idea was to make something typical of your own country. Richard had made scones the night before to take in for his last evening at the language school and there were plenty left for my class too. It was a lovely lunch - scones and sushi and pizza and squid and Jamaican patties and chocolate mousse and some Danish licorice which nearly took the roof of my mouth off.

After lunch I went with four others for a coffee, and we chatted in French. Not pretending for a second that I constantly have madly intellectual conversations in English, but I notice that in French I really get enjoyment out of conversations about things like prices of croissants and what the weather is like in Sweden - and I can talk about those things over and over, waggling my face and feeling really involved. We all laugh out loud at things that I'm not sure would be that funny in our own languages, and our humour bar is really low. It's fun. Also I feel like I'm more touchy feely here because being able to take someone's arm or pat them is really helpful when you can't talk to them properly. So, speaking French not very well: makes you incredibly easy to amuse, and a bit creepy. I like it.

A probably not last word about Bobos - I don't know if it's the Parisians, or just our teacher who seemed to talk about them loads. We deciphered a well known song about them, we were shown a bande dessinee (graphic novel, which are very popular and well produced here) about them, we analysed their likes and dislikes. I felt a bit anxious every time our teacher raised the subject, in fear that it was only a matter of time before she pointed at me and said, "comme Tor", and that would be her explaining job done. But she didn't, and as I don't live in a loft in the banlieue or shop exclusively at Zadig et Voltaire perhaps I'm safe for now. I feel like the Parisians analyse their own culture a lot, and are really interested in each other, both critical and admiring. Any thoughts?

I have just returned from the Salon du livre et de la presse jeunesse. This is an annual children's book fair that happens just north east of Paris. It was huge, three floors, two of which were filled with publisher's stands selling their books. It was absolutely swarming with children on day trips from schools, running everywhere. Some swine had seen fit to give lots of them whistles, so it was all fairly earsplitting. It was interesting and I saw a lot of inspiring work, and talked to one publisher and swapped experiences with an Italian illustrator, so I felt like it was a good trip.