So I guess I'm going to France

I got a letter this morning. What do you reckon it said?

It seems that I'm going to France. That is, I'll be spending three weeks under canvas in the Alps this summer, and that sounds pretty much rocking. I'll be renovating an archeological site there for about 35 hours a week. It looks to be a happy internationalist experience. I'll maybe spend a week or two in Dolce France before or after, which would bring my time there up to a month. So I'm excitied.

That's quite a relief, since my other plans for the summer have just fallen through, in that I wasn't chosen to help with Summer Schools, a high-paying temporary job with the University. I thought I had a good chance, but c'est la vie.

You can reasonably expect the proportion of faux Francais to increase, at least in the short term.

In other news, I'm listening to Oxford Student Radio, who have got their temporary license back. You can listen here, if you like. The thing I always hated about Radio One was the tendency to extreme joviality at all times, and first thing in the morning that just put me in mind of a cross betweena building site and Baboon Mountain. Here, the staff are refreshingly "Shut up. Shut up. What? Urgh".

Song in my head: "Talk that talk", or whatever it's really called, by that guy, whoever he was, maybe Johnny Lee Hooker?