Au revoir France

Well, that was it. I'm sat in my hotel bed in Lyon, waiting for my flight back to Edinburgh tomorrow, and all I want is to be back in the Auvergne. It feels like only yesterday that I stepped off the train into a strange, sun-baked little town; today, as I watched Montluçon station slide away through rainy windows, it felt like I was leaving home.

That my updates on here have become less frequent isn't a sign that my new life got less interesting towards the end, it's just that I no longer felt like I was on a special trip which I had to tirelessly document - I felt like I was leading a proper life. In Montluçon I have (or had) a job, a flatmate, a wonderful circle of friends - none of which I was ready to leave.

Part of me - a big part - wants to rush downstairs, across the road, into Gare Part-Dieu and jump on the next train back to that little backwater. I keep wanting to text the others and head on down to Le Prestige for a demi-fraise, but then I realise we've all gone our separate ways for Christmas. I thought I heard Minda calling me from the next room earlier, but it was just someone in the hotel corridor. And of course, today was the first Friday in fourteen weeks that I haven't had to run around after a hundred hyper-active children, and my afternoon seemed bizarrely silent (despite being on a packed commuter train).

But despite the wistfulness, I'm mainly happy. I did it. I remember being scared shitless the day before I departed for France, wracked with self-doubt, and yet I leave behind a schoolful of children who can now sing irritating English songs and say things like "My name is Montluçon" and "I am orange years old." It was essentially a flawless three months; thousands of non-stop happy memories that will stay with me forever. I take away from my Comenius experience new confidence, new perspectives... but most importantly, new friends.

Goodbye Mr Champeyrol, who crashes his car, laughs and keeps driving. Goodbye weird men on the bus who sniff women's hair. Goodbye weird women who notice and smile. Goodbye Madame Duclos. Goodbye Egee's Maison du Kebab, Facefood and Pat à Pain. Goodbye barman at Le Prestige who spurned my advances; goodbye barmaid at Le Betty Boop whose advances I spurned. Goodbye to the 07:46 TER train back from Clermont, a.k.a. The Vomit Comet. Goodbye Dave the cat who lives down by the reservoir. Goodbye clothes shops with crap English puns for names. Goodbye to dragging a bag-for-life full of garlic and cheese along a motorway twice a week. Goodbye to blagging amazing crap like free shots, drinks named after you and free run of Montluçon Laser Tag. Goodbye to spontaneous day trips to Paris just because you can. Goodbye to squat toilets. Goodbye to all the pupils of École Émile Zola.

Goodbye Montluçon. Tu me manqueras.