brume du matin

So it's 6:30 on another dreary, dismal morning in Strasbourg, with what can only be described as a horrid twiglet smell emanating from somewhere nearby. I have an 8 o clock lecture on droit extrapatrimonial de la famille. These 8 o clock starts (of which I have four per week) are proof (not that we needed any) that the French have, in fact, no social life whatsoever. They really do need to get their timetabling sorted out. Not only do they insist on getting up at such an ungodly hour, but they have cruelly lengthy classes. I mean, who can possibly concentrate for three hours straight? Either their administration needs attention, or they are complete and utter masochists. Or perhaps they have nothing else to do with their lives other than listening to whom they consider to be some sort of French demi-God of a lecturer rambling on about "les quasi contrats" or "la gestion des services publics". French university lecturers seem to enjoy such a reputation. They aren't exactly the most approachable characters in the world, and look down on the student population with a typically French arrogant air. It is, I might add, a reputation UNdeserved, as I could give better lectures myself compared to some of them, one in particular, whose French grammar is even more appalling than my own.