The Advocate

The Night Before

I couldn't sleep. I was anxious. My sleep pattern had been blown asunder by a virus that had struck the three of us living here. This night wasn't any easier. The young one woke just as I was drifting off, it was 4 am. This time the solution was Daddy. Usually it's Mama. I sat on the edge of the bed rocking her in my arms. I hummed softly. I remembered a tune I learned by Liam Clancy. It was about a sailor leaving his ship as the voyage was over. I hummed deeply rocking with one arm. My memory drifted back to similar moments with my son at the same age. That child was normally Daddy's job to lull to sleep, to give the bottle after breast feeding had finished, to wake up early at the weekends so Maman could lie in. I did it willingly but now look back with questions and some self reproach. However there is no point. We are in the here and now and still she is drifting in and out. I try to put her down in the bed several times. I am losing my touch perhaps, each time she wakes and wails, wails and wakes. Forty minutes later , I hug her tightly to my chest and take her to our bed. Instantly she is asleep on my chest, like a small dwarf trying to protect his hill of gold coins. Her legs and arms stretching either side of my torso. The sandman finally visits emptying his precious cargo into my eyes, as he leaves the clock informs him it's after 5am and he must be thinking of returning home before the eastern sky starts to fade into light.

The Morning

I was late out of bed, not so late, but it meant skipping a proper breakfeast. I put on my cheap brown suit, white shirt, a tie with dark red and black bars, I looked sober smart. I parked close to the courthouse. In Old Nice there is the Palais de Justice, and the Palais Rusca one opposite the other, both buildings couldn't be starker in contrast. Justice has high glass walls and gold lettering for brotherhood, freedom and equality etched into white stone. The red court I described before and it's low structure reminded me of a rebuilt roman bath house.
Inside the security man made me take out my keys. I passed through the metal detector and it beeped. He handed me back my keys and admitted me. I wondered about the level of security. No checks whatsoever.
I waited for my lawyer to arrive, there was no sign of her.
I played people watching as lawyers in jeans and runners, or smart pants and shoes, or redhigh heels and mini skirts or shinny black boots with smart heels, all milled around on business all dressed as normal people under the black robes of justice edged with some white fluffy touch to make them look.....legal I guess.
I wondered about this game. They were ordinary boys and girls who had been through college and now worked for a living at the coal face of other peoples misery.

She walked out and saw me, she inquired about Madam, I hadn't heard a thing. She went off to find her. About 10 minutes later she was back, she tried to hide her satisfaction that Madame wasn't going to be there. She talked about the future, that if it didn't work out, it wasn't final. I could always try again later.  I nodded, knowing in my heart that this is it for the time being.

Eventually it was time to wait in the small hall before the courtroom. There were four chairs, full of coats and bags, and lawyers. There was I, and a lady of about 25. The other 8 people in the small space were lawyers. They chatted and laughed and compared notes and cases. I earwigged and took in the different senses of style, senses of  value and upbringing too.

My ex's lawyer had already walked past me, turned looked at me, made to move off and stopped, pointed at me and then offered my formal name and smiled and shook my hand. He wouldn't make supporting cast in a B movie that is for sure, never mind get a cesar or golden lion for that performance. I asked him how he was and he was gone without a answer.
Now in the small space I wished him bad vibes, I positioned myself to be in line with him, each time I sent him vibes he repostioned himself to get someone between us. I know I was being mean and nasty, but I had a sense of what was going to happen next and I was not going to let him do it easily.

We entered.

The same room as the last time, purplish walls, high windows, ordinary workaday tables badly stuck beside each other. A Man with well cut short grey hair, dressed in black, no tie, somewhat overweight, looked up, he seemed startled to see me. A lady about the same age beside him perhaps a little older, different salary bracket for sure. They acknowledged me. The proceedings began.

PROCEEDINGS

As my ex was not there, we got to go first, I was from that moment on completely ignored. My lawyer was pleased and nervous. I sent her vibes to stop her hands shaking and take the tremor out of her voice. They stopped.

She opened her file, made a point, explained it, and moved the page to one side. She made another point, explained it and moved the page to one side. Each time she revealed the next page with it's heading, it's argument, and she continued in this vain for about 20 minutes. The judge took notes, only one time referring to his secretary to write some thing down.

She made a good argument in that at 9 years of age living 3 minutes away from his father, having expressed a desire to make up for lost time, having seen his little sister and being more than comfortable with his step mother and having every thing he needs here, there is no reason why on earth this little boy should not be more often in his fathers house. She refered to different reports, and to nearly two years of evidence gathered and presented.

I was happy she built a good solid argument. I wondered why she didn't seem to have so much confidence in herself. When she finished she sat back, but as we were angled side by side, she sat almost back in arms. It was a surprisingly warm moment between us.

The rebuttal was to dismiss the aformentioned reports out of hand, to make references to bills that were never paid by me, which in fact were. To throw dirt and hope some stuck. The reply was unstructured, not very coherent in that the only reason they were against it was because, well they were against because they are convinced boy doesn't want it.  The reply was short, delivered under some duress, ( I was still sending forget your arguement vibes ) and was over quickly. The judge spoke,

The court will deliver it's verdict on January 15th thank you all very much

Monsieur Smarm the lawyer for my ex,  was from that point onwards ignored by me, he shook my hand afterwards, I didn't smile, I gave him the limp fish.
My lawyer tried to talk in an annex in private, he followed us in and delayed for nothing, so she said nothing.
She waited as did I.
Once again she explained if the judge said no this time there would be other times. I explained to her I wasn't living in hope, I was just living. She misunderstood. I explained further. I told her I had done everything I could. I had spent money, gathered evidence, come to court and witnessed her present a case. Now some guy will decide our future. If it's in favour of our argument, then great. If not, I still have to be a father, I still have my love driving me to teach and make him the best he can be, within reason and good measure. I will not be upset if the answer is no. Things will be clear, concise and legal. They will be binding. I will have at least a leg to stand on.  She wished me a happy festive period and walked back into the annex to get something, I wished her one too, and she replied but I didn't hear it.
She came back and looked at me, I told her I hadn't heard, she explained she had been through the same process all too recently. I was full of admiration. She had been thoroughly professional. She had done her job, and perhaps her nerves were explained by her personal story.
I touched her lightly on the shoulder as her eyes filled up. She turned away, hating that her mask had fallen.
I asked was she okay, she shrugged it off as if it was nothing. She complimented me on my sincerity and honesty.  Of course I was pleased.

The Conclusion

I spent the day in town with lover celebrating. We bought me a new set of clothes, and shoes, we joked that I would marry myself I looked so good, and then let Georgio, the assistant in the well to do store, into the secret that today was my divorce.

It will be all legal and offical on the 15th January. There are two important things. For my sanity I will be now free of an awkward unhappy, unpleasing relationship. It will sweep the deck clean and I can get on with my life and perhaps try to build something new with the mother of my son, for the sake of my son. I have longed for this for long.

For my son, his concentration is not top, his discipline is out the window, but he knows where ever he is there is acres of love and that beneath that , there are acres more. If nothing else this alone is a gift in life. I will not say that I put my faith in the law. My faith is too important. I will abide by whatever decision is delivered. I will get on with our lives. I will continue to be as good a father as I can be. What else could you ask of any man?

Now it will happen

When I get out of bed tomorrow, I will shower, dress, have breakfeast and go to court. In the court some stranger will decide what is best for my son and for his parents. The arguments will be made by two strangers who have met either of us a handful of times. The decision will be based on cold hard facts. Who earns what? Who lives where? There will be no weighing up of our personalities. There will be no weighing up of our history, or desires or our feelings. It's called the law, justice. The journey I have been on to here, will not be taken into account, but my lawyer will attempt to argue it to counter the argument from the other lawyer that I am some what less of a father than I am really. There are no drugs, alcohol or abuse issues being raised. There is just a couple of people, unable to communicate effectively in a helpful way. Who perhaps would benefit from a wise somewhat spiritual elder and a warm hand on our shoulders to talk sense to both of us. But then you can't quantify that with noughts and crosses and bottom line euros and cents.
I guess I will just have to be my own elder. I will put out my positive vibes and not think of any worst case. Everything is good and as this is the only recourse whatever happens is right for the moment. If anyone reads this, it will probably be all over by the time you get here. One thing will never change. I will always be my sons' father, and I will never break the promise I made to him as a babe in arms. I will never drop you son.
Gosh I am so anxious, but at least it will be over.

Liam Clancy

This is a man who taught me to sing, and taught me the value of story telling. I would have never sung a tune nor written a word, were it not for Saturday mornings listening to Makem and Clancy on my cassette player. I would listen, and listen again. I learned 'The Cobbler' , I learned 'Waltzing Matilda', I learned about the legend of seal people, I learned when it was time to leave her because the voyage was done. Any smattering of gaelic in music that I know, comes from those deep sharings, I was amused and moved as a boy, barely a strip of a man, not a hair on my face, as his voice caressed my soul and pulled at my heartstrings, and taught me how to dream...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbkwCidPlzg&feature=related


Copy and paste the link into a new tab and let his voice fill your glass. I remember he recited this,

The Night Stirred at sea and the fire brought a crowd in.
They say that her beauty was music in mouth,
Few in the candle light thought her too proud
For the house of the planter was known by the trees,

Men who  had seen her drank deep and were silent,
Women were talking wherever she went,
And like a Gong that is rung or a wonder told shyly
Oh she was the Sunday in Every week.

Rest in Peace Mr Liam Clancy.

Life

Life.
It is for living.
It is full of situations. Each situation can be seen as challenging or to be avoided, or as rewarding, or as difficult, tough, hard, fun and a plethora of other words. I have no doubt however that it is not meant to pass us by.

When we are old and grey and look back on our time on this planet, there must be signs of interaction with others, signs of achievement, signs of being here.
There must be signs that all has not been taken for granted and that all that has been has not been in vain.

Perhaps this is just how I, a man, neither young nor old make sense of my existence.

I was perhaps follisome in my youth. I was certainly naieve. I have a sense of something that for me is a 'right way' of  being with others and often I have suffered for it. You see motives are never entirely pure. My motives of looking after others are surely in a small way, motivated by a fear of being abandoned or having no one around. I have learned in my time here in this place, that different cultures, interpret human kindness in different ways. Many here interpret it as something to take advantage of. That has nothing to do with the place. It's everything to do with the type of people that are attracted to being here however.
I am  always right. I am never wrong either. In the great energy system that is the human race, I like everyone else, am susceptible to energies. When I postulate an argument I am right, all of us are. This point of view if you like, is valid because it exists and therefore cannot be wrong. It is an energy in itself. It might not be apt for the situation but it is not wrong in the scale of the universe.
I can ignore energies if I wish, as many do, and close down, which I believe leads to illness. I can meet energies head on which can with unawareness lead to issues,  or I can weigh each one up and decide for itself and myself how to react in the most healthy way possible.

How difficult to write about a concept when I know that each and every word could be interpreted differently to the way I intend it to be. My way of dealing with other energies has become more and more to meet them head on. What has changed from my youth is the awareness of my own reaction to energies and synergies. Sometimes I wonder am I more .....in tune with the reality of what is happening. I notice lately I am encountering situations that are mirroring my beliefs. Up to this point at this phase of my life, I  have meet a lot of energies that were counter to my beliefs. Now I am being affirmed. Now, it is no longer the same belief system or  perhaps it's better expressed by saying my belief system has adjusted itself, been tempered and refined. I am still afraid of things I call challenges but I have learned if I don't stand up face to face and look them in the eye....( what does that mean? ) If  I don't take responsibility for myself then I can't blame anyone else for my happiness or un-happiness. The buck stops here so to speak. This goes for everything from my expanding waste line, to my lack of real writing, to my job search, to my romance, to my sense of self and well being.

I have a friend who's Gospel is 'all we have is projection'. I understand this but disagree strongly with it. For in a balanced universe of Gravity and Flight, black and white, good and evil, day and night, if there is projection then there is reception. Reception or receptiveness to energy is I believe a big part of who I am. I read something today about the doing. Stop the bitching, the excuses, the explanations, the reasons, just do it. In other words my writing career that I have long abandoned for moaning about the French or keeping fit, or drinking wine, or spending time playing games on the computer, or whatever, will never happen if I don't make choices. I must learn to channel the energy into the place it will give me most satisfaction. I am like a Nuclear reactor but I am only being used to light a 40 w light bulb in the storage room at the back of my brain. I have so much potential and it has to start somewhere. It's up to me to be receptive to this energy.

France V Ireland I am changing Razors

Being home in Ireland was great fun. It was a great recharge of the batteries.
Last night I was in a bar in the Nice. Ireland were in the second part of a 2 legged playoff in Paris.
If they won they would qualify for the world cup.  I was completely alone giving it loads surrounded by 50 french people in an Irish bar.  We scored and got extra time.
We lost to a goal that was against the rule of play on 2 counts, Offside and Handball.
Irish people today are up in arms.
The world is calling the French cheaters.
FIFA have actually blocked comments on the match report on their website.
Whatever about it being a game and passions running high, to block the right to free speech smacks of cowardice and distinc lack of impartiality and honour.

It is true Ireland outplayed the French but they didn't take their chances and they should have done. So I won't come up with conspiracy theories. We could have won the match had we scored.
It's sad to see that the values of high Morals have been cast completely aside in this day and age in the pursuit of profit. It's sad to see a governing body block free speech. It's sad to see a professional footballer cheat and not be able to admit it. It's sad that the professionals who are responsible weren't up to the task.
I have a friend called Gillette, she is the best a guy could get I believe. The guy who committed the foul last night is Gillette's poster boy, the company that is, not my friend's. So while Gillette my friend will always be the best a man can get, I will changing brands to shave. Never again will that brand cross my door till they drop poster boy for cheating.

Ka Ching,

No, I am not writing about some Chinese philosophy.

 I am writing about the hibernation I have been in since I was about 6 years old and first played with the idea of living a life of poverty and prayer to lord god in heaven. Declothed of that wonderful illusion around the age of 26 having spent a year and a half in organised religious life, and many years previously in disorganised religious life, I set out on a path of trying to make my life work.

In short the good brothers were uncomfortable with my taking it all so seriously and to the letter of the law, and of really putting it up to them, and they sort of moved me sideways and out the door, quite quickly in fact.

So began a life of study and creativity. For the first time in my adult life, I actually found myself with a group of people in University with whom I had little or no empathy. Consider if you will a 27 year old with a penchant for detachement trying to have a conversation with an 18 year old child of an upper class family, who's only interest in life is where the next 42 screaming orgasms and whisky chasers are comming from. The source of finance for the cocktail drinking life was usually mother or father, in the detached house on 12 acres up the north west somewhere. The cash was obtained by lying about some obscure course in languages that was absloutly necessary for this grade A student and model of Irish Citizenry.

Then once I was qualified so to speak, and with a very complicated love life, I banged around film and T.V studios and sets. Nothing permanent but all good clean and healthy fun. Never earning a huge amount of money either but slowly building a reputation as a reliable team working, non complaining, likeable bloke. In the film business this means you get hired. In Ireland the film buisness how ever isn't as prolific as other countries, and I was still broke.

I said it didn't I. Anyway, when boy came along it was time to get serious and get a steady income. I moved into IT after a dodgy bar job here or there. As luck would have it, I got a lovely number programming for airlines. I got trained up, did ok, got married and then that Sep 11th attack happened.

The day we all lost our jobs someone rang me up to see would I be an emergency teacher of english to a bunch of kids in rough part of town. Hell Yeah. I lasted 2 years teaching part time, there was a down turn in the economy. I had a young child marriage problems, confidence problems, goal issues, and my wife wanted to go home. I had also finally found my way into a political party that I had been trying to get into for about 2 years, I had produced and directed my own play without a loss financially, I had almost completed a course in psychology, but as usual these things are for the middle classes, and I wasn't, so finance and pressure from my partner I gave it all up. So we came to France.

I started after a year to teach english, just as my marriage fell apart. Then I got into I.T and being the sort of guy I am I had no idea of salary.

Now 4 or 5 years later I do. It's like just before my operation something went Ka Ching, or is ker chaing, anyway the penny, about 6 million of them in fact dropped.

If our dreams are ever going to come through, it's time, beyond time in fact, but better late than never, to get up off of my rear end and make it happen.

Who knows by the end of the year instead of stressing out at  the end of each month because I am overdrawn and then the bank charging me more money, and so a sticky downward spiral begins and gets deeper, I might just be able to come home from a meeting someday and look at lover at say .......Ka CHING.

I might sound sad, but I am just nervous as hell and pretty excited about the future.......ker ching!

(Image courtesy of : http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01431/euros-cash_1431091c.jpg )

Health

My arms feel like rubber. I feel like I am one of those nodding dogs. You know when I was 7 years old my parents went to the U.S.A. They brought me back an alabaster football player with a spring for a neck. It was fun. I think he had a red jersey, touch his head it would bobble up and down. Touch mine it will just fall forward.
I got the xrays back too. So here is another question. Anyone interested in seeing what they did to me on the inside?
Booboo is ill. She has rhynolaryingitus.....I haven't a clue how to spell it and I am too feeble to bother looking. She is a trooper but gosh it's a heart breaker to see her so ill.