The day that every self respecting Frenchman had been waiting for (well, for a week) had arrived: the rugby World Cup Final between France and New Zealand. As a proud Englishwoman, I was wholeheartedly cheering for New Zealand as the scum had knocked us out in the quarter finals. As hard as it was to wake up at 9 on a Sunday morning I did it and managed to get into town just after the match started. All the cafes and bars were open with screens precariously propped up outside. There was a lot of chanting, national anthem singing and yet more chorus' of the opening refrain of Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes (I have no idea why but after a night out or at sporting events it seems to be the 'song' of choice).

Just after half time though Dad texted me telling me that Marco Simoncelli, one of my favourite MotoGP riders had been killed at the ago of 24. For the rest of the match I found it hard to concentrate and at full time I barely felt any joy that the All Blacks had won. This is turning into a bit of a depressing entry but it makes you realise that you have to make sure you do what you want in life because you never know when it might end. Which is why I'm so glad I'm here, doing something that most people will never do in their lives, already achieving one of my ambitions.