It's midwinter and New Zealand isn't generally the kind of country that has central heating which at any rate doesn't help outside when it's 3 degrees (celcius) or something along those lines with a wee breeze that is cold enough to freeze your nose off if you stay still for overly long. Ok, so I'm exaggerating about the nose but there really is a wind and it really is *checks* ok, the internet says it was 12 degrees during the day and 5 at night. But still. COLD. SO COLD. And then there's french. I've got an oral test next week and I've got to speak for 2-3 minutes about the Ivory COast. In french. Now, on the whole I'm a pretty confident public speaker. I enjoy it. I can really get into it and do gestures and make little jokes but in French, thigns change. I can't even say a sentence to the teacher as a practise, to let her know how my speech is coming along, without stuttering and going red. I ... dislike ... french orals. And as if we didn't have enough homework writing our speeches, doing research and generally stressing (about French and other assignments that may or may not be due in the next 2 weeks before holidays), she gives us a mammoth guided translation. My teacher is Evil with a capital E.