AngellierTimes May 2013 .pdf

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Titre: Diapositive 1
Auteur: Thomas Gérard

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–– MAY 2013 ––
You do realise that I never
know how to start those
bloody éditos? I never know
what to write either. It is so
hard not repeat oneself in
these kind of thing…
Anyway, ‘hope your exams
went well or at least not that
bad all things considered. In
both cases you should go see
some films, I suggest Iron-

man 3, The Man of Steel, the
new Monsters Inc., The Great
Gatsby …

If you’re looking for a good
book to read, ask someone at
the BA, they’re very good,
very qualified people with
good taste or someone at the
Club they’re mostly the same.
Or you can play a game, I
hear Minecraft has had quite
a big update…
Ok, that’s it I don’t know
what I can say at this point.
So… here is a link to a pretty
t o f u n n y v i d e o s :
&v=DY6dv lMfn tw,
to the deezer page of a great
fr/artist/2756 and because he
cant’ really be avoided, to a
walking innuendo:
Please do not litter.


T h e s h o r t s to r y o f th e o ne wh o l os t h is
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who
used to spend all the evenings of his life writing
stories. Stories happening in imaginary worlds,
stories about ancient or future times, fantastical
or realistic stories... He only lived for the stories
he created, waiting from the breakfast to the end
of school to go home and take his favourite pen
to create an other magical world, peopled with
marvellous or villainous characters.
(Turn to Page 3)

Our friends at Angellier’s Actors Studio are
staging a play this 31st of May (that’s a Friday)
and if you don’t know what to do during your
holidays that is a good first thing to do, plus
tickets are free!
(More on that on page 4)

An error has been made in our last issue, the
content of the Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey
chronic was written by The Doctor and not by
Thomas, please excuse us for this
misunderstanding, you were not suppose to
know the Name of the Doctor.


This month
Calendar sneak



That is quite true of course, no place is the like
of London and again London is not the like of
any other place. But let’s focus on London.
So we left Lille on the 15th of April, a bit late
but that’s part of the Journey - and let’s not
mention the fact that I nearly made us took the
wrong bus -, and four or five hours later we set
foot in the city, then with a lot of underground
events we arrived at our lodging! Wondrous
place, comfy beds, hot showers, lots of nice
people: French, Italian, Australian, Irish, British.
(really if you’re looking for a place to stay in
London go to Astor Hyde Park)
We were ready to start the new chapter of The
Club Angellier in London, but first we had to
unpack and more importantly, to decide who
would take which bed!
All that action left us hungry, really hungry so
we headed to the nearest pub and, well, you can
guess what happened…
Now, I’m not going to talked about what we did,
because that would be boring, a museum isn’t

described, it is explored and all that. So I’m
afraid that if you want to know what we did,
what we saw, you will have to be in it next year...
I’ll say this however: It was fantastic, brilliant,
cool. We ran through the streets of London or
dwindled in shops, nice little shops, for hours. We
met - from afar - Iron Man and Merlin. We saw
an old box full of wonders forgotten in a corner
of town. We travelled trough Time, walked in old
Bill ‘s Theatre, followed the Ripper and watch as
he operated, we listened to the whispers of the
crowd and laughed to our heart’s content…
It was a nice week.



All day long, he observed everything, and
carefully listened to all the things he was taught
at school. Everything he saw and heard, from the
slightest detail to the most interesting story,
became an element in his stories. To him,
everything he lived during the day was a travel,
and all the books he read were some kind of
windows opened to other worlds and times.
The other children at school used to wait for him
on the morning, to listen to the stories he wrote
during the previous night, but they never talked
to him for any other reason.
Once, he had written a story about a boy who had
lost his name. It had taken him three long nights
to write this. It was a very long story, and he was
really proud to have told it to all the other
children. He spent the day as he used to spend
every day, but the evening was not an evening
like all the others. He couldn't stop thinking
about the questions of the other children at
school, especially the last question he had been
asked: 'Why doesn't the little boy find his name
again at the end of the story?‘.
He did not know what to answer to this question
in the morning. He began to think about it, and
remembered he did end the story that way
because he simply hadn't thought about a name
for the boy in the story.
That evening, he spent all night thinking about
that question, and wondering why the other asked
him such a thing. To him, it wasn't important that
the little boy didn't have a name, the most
important thing, was that he was, and was happy
at the end of the story. He fell asleep, thinking
about that, wondering if he should find a
name for the character.
The next morning, he woke up and went to
school, without any story to tell to the other
pupils, and was sorry for that. He spent the day
listening and observing, and when the evening
came, he took his favourite pen, and sat in front
of his note book. No idea seemed to come to his
mind. He spent long hours, hiding under his desk,
not to be yelled at by his mother if she woke up
in the middle of the night, and fell asleep, sitting
in front of the empty notebook.
The next morning, he was really tired and realised
he had lost his ideas. He had lost his inspiration.
He went to school without any motivation, but
tried hard to see and hear things as he had always
done before – to be able to create again in the
evening. During the break, the other pupils came
to see him, and asked why he didn't tell them any
stories for two days. He did not know what to
answer. This question added to the first one, and
he couldn't prevent from thinking about those,
again and again.
He was really sad not to be able to create and to

see things as he had always seen them: as if
everything were an opened window on another
marvellous, fantastical world. He was only
obsessed by the questions. All the other pupils
had turned their eyes from him, because for one
week, he hadn't wrote nor told any story.
But one day, he arrived at school and, alone
against the wall, waiting for school to begin, he
noticed another boy who was alone. He had never
seen him before, he was a newcomer at the
school. He did not have the courage to go and
speak to him, because he had always been shy,
and the only reason why he talked to other
children was to tell his stories.
Sitting in the classroom, he asked the girl next to
him what was the name of the new boy. She just
couldn't remember his name, and so the class
began and he listened carefully to the teacher.
The school day ended and he had asked to other
pupils for the name of the new boy, but no one
had been able to answer him. He fell asleep with
another question in his mind: who was the new
boy and what was his name.
During two days, no one seemed to care about
this little boy he saw every morning, standing
alone. The third day, they arrived the same time
at school. The new boy came to see him and
asked him is it was real that he used to write
stories before. The little writer looked at him and
sadly answered him that he used to, but that now,
it was impossible. Because he had lost his
The new boy and him began to talk and he forgot
to ask him his name. They went to class and at
the end of the day, the new boy came to meet
him again.
Since that day, they began to talk with each other
every morning and every evening, because they
were the two lonesome boys of the school now.
They became really close friends.
The little writer was happy to have someone to
talk to everyday at school, and to have met a
friend, nevertheless, he was still sad when he
thought about all the magical worlds he had lost
connection with.

(turn to the next page)

A few weeks later, the new friend of the little
writer told him that he had to leave the school
the following year, and that they will probably
won't see each other until they are adults. The
little writer felt sad because he would lose his
friend, but the boy who arrived a few weeks ago
told him that it wasn't important that they meet
everyday, because they both knew each other. He
to ld hi m t h a t he c ou ld ju st st ar t wr i ti ng
everything he saw, everything he did, not to
forget anything, for the day they'll meet again.

questions the other asked him. When he went to
school, no one was waiting for him to listen to
any story, because it had been a while since he
stopped telling stories. But the other children
came to ask him why his friend wasn't there
anymore. He simply answered them that it wasn't
important and that he simply had to leave.
Since that day, the other pupils came to talk to
him everyday, to listen to his stories, but also to
talk with him about anything.

The evening of that day, the little writer got back
home without asking himself any question. No
questions about the reasons why his friend would
leave, no question about anything. When the diner
was over, he went upstairs, and instead of being
sad to know he would be alone again next school
year, he began to write about what he did in the
evening, thinking about his friend who would be
far away for a long time. Then, when he got to
bed, he had a dream in which they travelled
together in fantastical worlds.



He woke up the next morning and thought that
he should write his dream. And imagination came
and he also wrote the end of the story, creating
events he had not dreamt about. He had found
again his inspiration, and stopped thinking about

The Lille3 English theatre company is staging the 1723 play The
Beggar’s Opera by John Gay.
In Eastgate London near Newgate, the sinister prison, rogues and
whores play a game of wit and cynicism to postpone their
meeting with the rope by a few months.
Love games, plots and betrayals dashingly follow each others in
this hilarious satire of a society rotten to the core. Mocking the
Italian Opera conventions the play alternates between traditional
melodies and twisted opera songs that occasionally appear in a
surprisingly modern light…
Angellier’s Actors Studio are inviting all of you on May the 31st
at 7.30 pm in the Kino theatre (Université Lille3) to share this
high-coloured representation with them!
Useful information:
The play will be staged in English. Tickets are free but you are
welcomed to give whatever money you deem worth at the end of
the representation. To book your tickets, please send an email
mentioning your name and the number of tickets you would like


Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey Stuff


May the force
be with you …
No, wait, I’m
sorry that’s Star
Wars. Although

A New Hope

did came out in
May 1977. Hope
you’re ready for our monthly
trip, I would like to take you
to outer space but really
there’s too much spoilers out
there, not good for you that
much spoilers.

S o bef or e we he ad o f f i n
Time, let’s go get a towel at
Towel Day, it’s on every 25th
since 2001, in commemoration
of Adam’s death - he didn’t
mind the spoilers and was
quite happy that I had a spare
towel for him -. Now we can
get off, but when to? We
certainly won’t go sing at the
Eurovision, no that’s better
left alone, the Earthvision,
well, that’s an other thing
We’ll skip 1707, there wasn’t
much celebration for the Acts
of Union but we can go have a
drink with Ben Franklin when
he was granted the permission
to built the first hospital in
the Colonies in 1751, we can
even bring him a present. I’m

thinking the first edition of
King James’ Bible dated 1611,
May the 2nd.
Ships, do you like ships?
‘Cause I know a couple of
them that are pretty nice.
1810, the HMS Beagle takes
the sea f or the fir st time
(that’s the ship of Charlie. He
give his book its name: The
Voyage of the Beagle ). Then
there’s the titan of the seas,
RMS Titanic, launched the last
day of May 1911 - but only
going into service a year after
-, there was a very special
baby on board this ship when
it shank, a baby named
Millvina Dean, she died
ninety-eight years after the
launching, the last remaining
survivor of the Titanic who
had also been its youngest
passenger, but at 2 months
old, I don’t think she
remembered anything of it.
invention! They started
everything, well everything,
everything related to space
travel really. Those beautiful
spaceships: colonial cruisers,
warships, space base,
colonization arch… they all
come from balloons and
planes and from those

The Month Events
- 31st : The Beggar’s Opera
- Lots of partying following the end of year
(almost anytime according to your choosing)

pioneers, the like of Earhart
or Amy Johnson, who
happened to be the first
woman to fly from England to
Australia in May 1930 in 19
days and alone, I know a good
spot to see her land. But what
of the biggest ship of all?
Twenty years earlier the Earth
went tr ough Haylay’s tail,
there was nothing spectacular
about it, but it’s still
wonderful, don’t you think?
Before we go and end this trip
at Beckham’s birthday party,
what do say we go talked a
little with Anne Boleyn in
1536. May wasn’t a good
month for her, I think she
might enjoy a little company
before, well… let’s just go and
talk to her…

If you desire to contribute
to the Angellier Times in
any way you want, send
a n
e - m a i l
t o
with your name and your
paper, picture or ad
a t t a c h e d .

Editor-in-Chief: Thomas “The Doctor” Gérard
Contributors: Sam Datri


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