Ok, so it's not hey Britney!, but hey Brittany! Similar, but not quite the same thing.
Brittany is wild, detached from everyday life, a bit redneck and tends to smell of the sea in hot weather. And Britney is....hmm. More similar than I thought.
So, as I sit here this morning, I'm thinking how it seems that life goes in cycles. How, people that I know or meet have something in common and how that something keeps coming up, over and over again.
For example, for a while in the 90's I was surrounded by gemini's. Everywhere I turned there'd be someone born under the sign of the twins.
Now despite what the folks over at 'Astrology Fun' have to say -
"This is a great match and fun for both parties. Gemini’s roving eye doesn’t bother confident Leo. However, Leo probably wants more adoration than Gemini is willing to give. Both love to laugh and cause sparks in the bedroom"
- this was never a good match for me. The sparks were never in the bedroom, trust me.
After the gemini's came the Americans.
For a long time, everyone I knew (myself included) was dating an American, working for an American or moving to America. And this is in the UK, where there are surprisingly fewer Americans than you'd think - it's not the 51st state just yet, you know.
Once the American's quit town, it became Toyotas. You know - the cars.
I couldn't go on a date with someone without them turning up in a Toyota. A rental car would always turn out to be a Toyota. If I ordered a taxi, it'd be a Toyota. My best friend got a new company car - yep, you guessed it....
And then, the last couple of weeks, it seems that my world has been invaded by Bretons.
Reader, the lovely folk from Brittany have truly taken over Tbnilsville. Be afraid.
I've spoken with random men in bars this week (as you do) and most have been from Brittany. Benodet, Plougastel, Perros Guirec, Guingamp and Fouesnant. To name but a few. It's kind of funny, but also kind of weird. Even the guy from the toilets - who lives in Montréal - was a Breton originally.
And the stalker? From Vannes.
Last night, I was minding my own business, sat on a bar stool waiting for my friends to arrive when someone approached me from the side and planted a kiss on my cheek.
"Sorry, couldn't help myself. I had to do that". Said a very handsome, if a little late-forties Frenchman. He had a stubbly face, which made for quite a pleasant surprise peck on the cheek.
"Well, erm, thanks?" Said I.
"Are you French?" he asked. I told him no. I'm English, I said.
Politeness then demands that I ask where he is from.
"Vous êtes Parisien d'origine?" I asked.
"Non", he answered. "Je suis breton" - I'm from Brittany.
"Of course you are", said I. "Of course you are...."