#13 - The Clown Diaries - Bouffon

My three flatmates have all gone out which means I can be sassy and naked at the computer. Coffee in one hand and a baguette in the other. A nude, sober, feminist Anais Ninn-in-practise. It’s that time of the evening when the house doesn’t reek of vegetables. My flatmate, (the one that resembles Gaston from Beauty & The Beast but in the ‘On Ice’ version), really loves to wake up at 6am and cook a mixture of broccoli, cauliflower, eggs and mushrooms in a huge pot which means the house constantly smells of flatulence.

This precious 'alone time' gives me the opportunity to work out my Bouffon costume for tomorrow. Currently it is a cross between Nigel Farage, Leigh Bowery and the Pope. Considering I’ll be performing on Good Friday I am praying that my Irish Catholic family don’t find out.

Whilst school has been speeding past and annihilating us from every angle our weekends have been crucial in keeping us all mentally stable. If the trains don't work weekends in Etampes consist of getting pissed on rum by the castle, climbing the on the sand dunes or late night poker sessions in someones kitchen. When the trains finally do work everyone jumps on the first available train to Paris. The benefit of living in a tomb-like town is that the days when you are able to go out to the city you truly appreciate it.

Paris is built by the characters you meet and the visiting raconteurs who spill into it turning the place you’ve considered home on a completely different axis. Despite how small Paris is, there is always a small backstreet you’ve never noticed that holds some charming bar or a bistro that does expert brunches which you don’t need to queue for.

However, Owen Wilson’s character in Midnight in Paris was wrong when he imagined there was nothing more gorgeous than walking through Paris in the rain. There is. There is seeing Paris in the rain, whilst you are sitting indoors. Several weeks back I had to walk through the Marais at 3am in order to get home. It was the equivalent of being pissed on by a Giant Elephant. A French Ganesh. Everything was so wet I couldn’t tell what was the effect of the good looking man walking next to me