As I was trying to improve my ‘About’ page, I got thinking about myself and events that had marked my life. Time for a bit of introspection!
When I was born, life was orange and brown.
At 7 months, I was already into dressing up.
At 8 months, I was a messy eater.
At 9 months, I started walking.
At 10 months, my ears got pierced.
At 13 months, I had a go at skiing for the first time.
At 15 months, I was a flower girl.
At 18 months, I was fully potty trained and went on my first camping holiday.
At 2, I started nursery school.
At 3, my mum and I moved into the house where I grew up.
At 4 I got my first ‘job’ grape-picking and was paid 5 francs per basket.
At 5, I loved pretending I was a teacher.
At 6, I had chicken pox.
At 7, I learnt to swim.
At 8, I went on a plane for the first time.
At 9, my brother was born.
At 10, I skied down a black slope for the first time.
At 11, I started learning English.
At 12, I discovered Queen. I have loved rock music since then.
At 13, I spent a week in London with my mum.
At 14, I spent a week in an English family near Portsmouth and was puzzled by the food, the shower I could not turn on, the toilet in the bathroom.
At 15, my second brother was born, followed by our baby brother a year later.
At 16, I tried windsurfing. Let’s never speak of that again.
At 17, I was banned from yoga class and went to my first concert.
At 18, I checked my Bac results (A-Levels) on the Minitel. With my driver’s licence in hand, I started working odd shifts in a drugs factory and drove all the way to the Alps in my mum’s Ford Escort.
At 19, I moved to Paris to study English and bought my first mobile phone.
At 20, I worked as a nanny after a short-lived career in a greasy fast-food.
At 21, I moved to London after graduating and became a language assistant.
At 22, I studied French as a Foreign Language in Aix-en-Provence.
At 23, PGCE certificate in hand, I became a teacher.
At 24, I went on a 6,000 kilometre road trip around Europe. I realised that chasing thunderstorms, sleeping in the car and taking showers on the beach were not my idea of a holiday. My then boyfriend (now husband, would you believe it), loved every minute of it.
At 25, I went to Glastonbury. My dad passed away just before Christmas that year.
At 26, I got married.
At 27, I bought my second-hand Mini Cooper. After my niece’s lively fourth birthday party, I declared I was not ready for children just yet. Not long after, I realised I was pregnant with Crevette, and I was over the moon!
At 28, I discovered unconditional love after hours of delirium caused by gas and air.
At 29, I bought my much-loved Canon camera.
At 30, I had the most relaxed, pain-free labour you could imagine when Beanie was born.
At 31, I had a fish pedicure and I would not recommend it.
At 32, I had my first stay in hospital ever when four week old Jumpy had Pneumonia. Strangely enough, that cured my fear of hospitals.
At 33, I made macarons again and again and again.
At 34, I gave birth to my fourth baby on the bathroom floor.
At 35, I made croissants for the first time.