All the Fun of the Fair.

May 1st is a holiday here. No one works except the people at the wine fair. Don't start cracking jokes about the French please, I have to live here. They work very hard.



You see there is a lot to do at this time of year on the Cote D'azur. The film festival will be starting soon. There is a Grand Prix comming up.
You can out to a nice restaurant in Monaco and eat Duck



You can go to the wine expo thing,where people go crazy. You get a glass and basically walk around all the producers in France finding out what you want and what you dont want. There are also people who make

Salt



Spices


Cheese



Charcuterie


oh and for the ladies...........chocolate



and tea.


and other goodies..




The reason some of the photos are a little blurry is I am still getting used to the phone, but also because I tasted a good part of the following...





Yes it does look this blurred in real life, there was no way I could focus better than that. We had already tasted 21 wines and I don't spit.


Oh well the cellar is now stocked for the visitors who may make their way over this summer :-)

Still not training, hoping to go bike and run this weekend.

Only Because I Have To

Yep I am updating today simply because I haven't updated and I should. Currently my lower back is blocked. This usually happens when I am tired and stressed out around my son, his mother, my lover etc;. Today everyone met. I was informed I had to bring him to the artisana show to help his grandmother. I had other plans, finally we got there an hour later than organised but it was cool. My lover met my ex, and my ex mother in law. Friends later went to find Boy wonder and met them too and chatted. It was all very civil. My lower back was twitching, I try to be civil not to bitch, I don't always succeed, but I don't see the point in stooping to the other sides behaviour.
So it was okay in the end, but it cuts, when they assume they can just cut into our precious time together like that.

So what was the other plan. Top Marques.. have a look at these.........




I am not really a materialist but it was fun for a half an hour.





And the coolest......................




This is the luxury car show in Monaco. We had free passes. We went. I insisted on it. I wouldn't pay in 39 euro just to be treated like a piece of dirt. They guys selling the cars walked around wiping our finger prints off, in case the person behind us was a multi millionare interested in buying the car that was bullet proof, bomb proof, assasin proof, but obviously not stupid person proof.

We didn't pay into the workshop in the Ballet either. Last night was my 8 year olds' first exposure to ballet. 5 young coreographers with 5 young scenarists, put together a 2 hour long show of 5 different pieces.......The most impressive for me being a story of rain falling on the earth. It opened with 6 dancers standing around a figure on the ground. Standing on the figure with her foot on the head and the other on the stomach, was a woman in white. She looked like she was about to devour her victim on the ground. The story unfolded, violently, impressively, beautifully, but somehow very darkly, with the use of video and some incredible ballet and shape shifting, our 7 female dancers, 6 in white, one in brown portrayed something about rain falling on the earth, and the suffering the earth endures during this torrent. Boy wonder was scared at this particular one but loved all 5 stories and I was pretty damn pleased.

The weekend is over, finishing up with friends and a dinner. Life is stressful, but good. I can't write about the lawyers till I receive certain pieces of paper. I ran today for the first time, didn't help my back, didn't run far.

It Hurts

Nope I am neither Joe Calzage nor Bernard Hopkins and yet I felt like I was in the ring with both of them at the weekend.
Yesterday morning at 8am I looked like this, ready for my race.



Yes the white light behind me is from the angels smiling down on me.
Let me tell you it was a good race. I hadn't been training enough recently. I joined the ladies, we parked in Cristines lab which left us a 3 km walk to the start. I wasn't impressed. I wasn't ready. I knew it was to thunder and lightning. I brought a complete change of clothes. No sun glasses of course as I had left them in work on Friday, no Suncream, who needs that in a storm and not enough jel packs because simply I forgot. So the light behind is not lightning. It's clear blue sky and bright sun shine.
Yeah Warrior pack the suncream bring a hat.........sure.......I left them on the table.
There was 8000 people milling around the start. There was a 3km fun run for breast cancer, a 10k run, and that semi marathon that I was doing. Thats a smidgin over 21km. The most I had run up to this point in preparation was about 14.5km and even that is not exact.

We took off at 9:30 I had a gel pack I was keeping for after the 10 k mark. I had a half a litre of water, about a pint to sip in between refueling stations that were at every 5k. The sun was beaming down, the crowd was slow to move off. Finally I got over the other side of the Promenade des Anglais were there was more space and settled into my rythm. Why is it the promenade is always English, the Quay is always American and the bar is always Irish?

We turn into Gambetta somewhere before the Negresco and started a long slow 2km climb. It was impressive to see the thousands of people in front of me. I heard some Irish voices. I turned 'Are you girls Irish? ' They were and I felt not so alone and it was good.
The kilometers ticked by. Some guy tapped me on the shoulder and started asking about the emblem on my t shirt. It said 'Marathon Des Sables' No I said that is just a silly thing, a style of shirt, Non, pas de tout, moi je le fais l'anneé dernier...bon ok merci, bon course. Ooops.

Not many crowds and those that were not clapping too much. I was trying not to get discouraged, I knew the girls were already way in front. The race turned a big loop, passed under a tunnel and came back down by the Palais de Medditterain, back onto the prom and back from where we came. Now we are running toward the Port.

At 6 km I was thinking to myself I felt really really good, I wondered where my running buddies were, I fancied that given they were much faster, ran 3 times a week and have been running longer that they would already be around the 8km mark. That was until I heard a voice behind me.....'Target acquired, missles locked, ready to fire' It was Christine, I was perturbed. How the hell could they behind me at 6km?
Both of them were there, then I saw there two friends as well, then I saw the Irish girls still there..... it seems I took off way too fast. I hadn't thought so, and still don't really think so.... I matched the girls for a few KM the banter was fun, I was starting to get hot, when water was available I took two cups one for the head one for the mouth.... We passed by the lab where we had parked that morning, down into the port and back along the Quay des Etais Unis where we had been already not so long ago. I could feel the 10 km mark coming up I watch as the girls started to put distance between them and I , I grabbed at oranges in a box, I had two, I gave one to the person beside me who hadn't seen the opportunity. The Irish women peeled off for the 10k finish I thought about stopping too, we crossed the starting line for the 3rd time once again going along the orginal route..but now toward the airport. I had run this before, I knew I could do it, I continued. Some old guy of about 70 finished his talk with a 10k runner who peeled off and settled in for the duration. Some other old guy spectating, called out the name on his shirt, encouraging him on. The two old guys waved at each other...and Mister 70 went on his way.

There is a watering station I momentarily passed the girls who had stopped, I took water on the run, one and half cups in the gob, half a cup over the head, ......we saluted each other. The passed me with ease soon after, at 13km on a completely straight stretch I had totally lost sight of them. The field had thinned out dramatically, now where as before there was a lot of varying body shapes and sizes, the field was thinner, more uniform, fitter, faster, in better shape. My head was okay but my calves which had been a little tight since the start were starting to ache. Shit I have to get to 15k, if I get to 15k I can finish this bastard.

I was surprised, I started to well up without knowing why. I calmed down keep my rhytmn breath, drink some water, shit Gel pack whayhey around 11km I think.. ....it was like a magic wand, I sucked half it down and it felt like my speed and my ease of running increased, I put it back... I tried it again on 13...the effect was the same I kept the last bit but by 14k I had suck the last smidgin out of it and thrown it away, fuck the environment 'they' will clean up later. This from the guy who carred a small ring of plastic 3 km that morning to find a bin.

I saw the mayor, I saw people I recognised from Monaco. I didn't see any angels. I was sore very very sore. my legs were sore, my heart was sore. I was not stopping. I watched the flags go by in the other direction, 1 hr 30, then 1 hr 45, then 2 hours. I noted this one was the only one of the 3 carried by a woman, each of them had a group around them. The group ran like Chinese security gaurds around the olympic flame, protecting their pace setter as if their lives depended on it. They probably did.

I was aching again, god what will happen if people notice, my eyes welled up, are the red cross going to stop me because I am hurting so bad?
I turned on 15k, There is a God, they had the equivalent of gatorade, bannanas water sugar lumps I took them all I drank down about 2/3s of liter in seconds, wolfed banana and ran back, yes ran back for sugar, I wasn't stopping I was running this bastard to the end....but I was now in unknown territory. I had never run this far before. If I could get to 16k I could finish. I popped raw sugar in my mouth and drank water, I can do this just let me get to 16km. The sugar is gone, it's roasting hot. I am soaking with water and sweat. Now I let a real sob out of myself. I was still passing people up to this point, but now from 16k onwards I felt like I was going backwards. I could see Mister 70 just a 100 meters in front.

I keep telling myself don't race. Don't race. You are only in competition with yourself. I am going to finish this, don't race... I am talking out loud now, I am shouting at myself. 'Com'on Collie you bastard, you are going to finish this fucker. I think of the tri girls blog I read, who called her bike 'The fucker' she will be laughing at me. I think of Gillette, yeah I know, weird, hanging around the end line hugging me when I get there. I think of Lover, who got out of bed and took my photo and went back to bed. I resent it for a moment but I know that deep down when I cross that line I need to be alone for a moment and besides she will be there when I get home with that great smile.

Fuck my legs hurt, I can't do this...it is really fucking sore, God I forgot I have water, I drink what is left. There is 16k written on the road in front of me, this is further than I have ever run. I start looking down the coast from where I have come, I try to see that finishing point that I have passed 3 times on the race already, I try picking out hotels. Mister 70 is about 200 meters in front, some people pass me, then he is 250 meters in front. There is another guy Walking, a big well developed type. Some running club on his shirt. Why is he is walking? Mister 70 passes him. I am breathing, I am cramping, I try stretching my stride.... the guy is walking but I am not any closer. 17k , that's further than I have ever run. Jesus just over 3 to go, thats just one back and forward of the canal stretch where I run, I can do that can't I? Hell I hope so. 18K that is further than I have ever been, but I have lost my way, I have no water left there is a team at the side of the road they have bins of water but nothing to drink with, not stopping I am running this all the way, I dive my hands in and drink while running. I can't get bearings at all. I have no idea what part of the promenade I am in and I am in agony.

Some rock and roll guitarist is playing a slow riff, I want him to rip up the joint but he has been there all morning, now watching the stragglers I am sure it's time for the closing set and he is winding down. It doesn't help. ...

18.5 I am in pain, I don't want to stop, 18.6 I am limping, 18.7 I am swearing at myself 18.8 I am pushing pushing, mister 70 is dissappearing up the street, 18.9 I am crying, Fuck it come on I shout out loud, I don't give a fuck who can hear me and they won't understand anyway, God yes 19km I have run further than I ever thought I could yes only 2 to go, the pain, the cramps Aaaaaaah fuck it, I can't, It is too fucking much I can't.

I stop running, at least I try, my legs don't obey they keep moving as if runing but I am walking, 50 meters, 100 meters 150 meters, how the hell am I going to finish. My legs are like jelly, I am sobbing. My time for 2:15 was optimistic but now I have hit 2:18 and 2k to run and I can barely walk my calves are like cannon balls hanging off my legs.......There is a small man dressed like a Old movie gangster standing at the traffic lights, I am crying, tears streaming down my face, snot cascading down my nose, and I am ashamed. I don't know why, it's just spilling out of me. There is a bunch of teenage girls walking down the promenade, about 20 feet away from this Italian. How do I know he is Italian? Well he lets me know. He lets me have it full blast. I have no idea what it said but it sounded like stop fucking crying you blithering idiot get your finger out of your ass and run to the finish you fuck head. The girls run to him whoooping and cheering me out, I laugh and cry at the same time and I am moving again. I am running again damn it I am going to do it I am going to finish and I am going to finish running. Thanks to him being there and saying whatever he said. I can see the big runner in front of me he is running walking, running walking, Jesus I am at 20k further than I have ever run and I am going to make it, I can see the finish line, now people are cheering me, every time there is a nice word I sob, it's as if they know I need them to say it. Good christ on Calvary this is crucifying me... I am not stopping now, he is just in front of me maybe 100 meters, he is running again, fuck this I have enough of this shit, I am not finishing like this...

I don't know what happened, but I started to stretch out, to sprint, I was getting faster and my strides longer, I was sprinting the last 500 meters at full stretch, maybe it was on 15 meters maybe it was the last kilometer, I don't know but I know I felt like I running hard and fast and It was easy, I flew over 21k, I didn't think about how far I had come, I was getting to that line. I burned him..........I ran past him fast and left him for dead, There is the red carpet there is the finish line there is my foot on it and fuck me I did it. I did it, I did it, I sobbed, I sobbed hard.... I couldn't walk, I was doubled over. I tried walking, my legs wouldn't obey.
I couldn't find my friends, I hobbled over to drink. I could see people getting massaged, I don't know how, I want that, Someone come and see that I am not okay, that I am really hurting...more drink, some asshole pushes me out of the way to get some sustenance I look at him, realising quickly I have finshed before him and in a better mental state..imagine.....
they guy who snips off my running chip looks blankly at me, I want him to hug me and say well done.

I see people with medals, I am hobbling like an old man. I see the guys with boxes stacked in front of them, one of them has a medal in his hand. I ask him is there medals, he says well yes I have one. Thanks I say. I want it. He gives it to me in my hand. Fuck it I want him to put it around my neck and for the band to strike up. I hobble really hobble out. I am not doing that again.
I see the girls.... there are no hugs, a slap on the back from one of them. How fucked up are these people. Nat looks away when I say yes I finished and I cried like a baby. It doesn't fit with her virile image of me I guess. I will always have that soft side and never really be ashamed of it. It's who I am. I don't know what I was crying about, I don't know why I was ashamed out on the course.
This is what I looked like afterwards..........when I had my bath.....and we talked about it, and lover saw it was something special and I still had the head spinning not understanding what I had done nor what I had left on the road behind me...



I finished a half marathon in 2 hours 28 mins and I have a fucking medal. I told my son and he is really really proud. I lost 2kg which is about 4 pounds in weight. If you need to loose weight I don't recommend you try this. My brother called and people seemed to come out of the wood work. The angels had been there all along, they were just letting me do it by myself. But God it hurt.

Will up date you on the ex lawyer moron as well next post.

The Human Race

Well am I ready?
My 21km race starts on Sunday morning. I don't feel too ready for it, the most I have run is about 14km I have manaqed to run 3 times a week. I took advice and didn't run at all this week. The weather is the worst I have seen here. Just like home. Torrential rain. The forcast for Sunday is torrential rain with storms. So I am acutally confident that I can finish it if it's raining.
If it is sunny it might be a few kilometers too far. But hey, I said at the start of the year I was going to do this. So here goes.

Boy, what a birthday!

Can you imagine the joy of having your best friend, your brother, your favourite sister in law, your lover, and your child with you around the table. Throw in a couple of more friends,


some fireworks,


a cake



and some presents



and of course a good dose of magic



and you get what my boy told me was the best birthday ever. When I questioned him on it, in his usual truthful way, he said, 'Well, with you!' I am still smiling but it did scratch a little.

This time he has been spoiled rotten. Presents arrived from far a wide and we had already spent a fair whack on the bike. Now he can come cycling with me when I go running. It gives him more time with me and I get to run and not feel guilty. He loved it. He loved the visitors, the party, the cake the attention, the games, the walks, the shopping, the meals and generally just hanging out with each other. He loved the time we spent because it was real.
He still looked up often in a room full of people to see if I was there and when I wasn't he would come looking for me. He is great. So it's a happy birthday to him and may we spend so many more together.

My new lawyer seems to be the business, the bank approved my loan to pay her. The Sun is shining and for today all is good in the Kingdom where only happiness is King.
Thats it. Only happiness.

The weekend was a blast.

Happy birthday to both my Mam and Dad who have turned 80 years old. They are doing okay.

Okay Sooooooooooooooo hum. Well this is going to be a megre attempt at some photojournalism for what of a better word. Let me fill you in. I saw who I had to see. That was the best part. I ate great food, that was the second part. I didn't run.

I had planned to go running for 2 hours on Saturday but the plane was late, I arrived late, I needed a haircut for the party, I had to see my best friend. Actually I have 2 best friends that don't live with me. Anyways.........
I got the haircut but didn't get to run. Here's me with the haircut. I know it's pretty vain, but I change my appearance so much, and I saw the mirror and I thought, why the heck not. A lot of Irish guys passed me on the way and thought I was completely nuts....

So the party was great, 3 of my brothers and my Sister were there. My sisters in law, nephews, neices, cousins, aunts, friends of the family. It was in an old Grand hotel in Dublin called Wynns. I know I ate steak, and steamed vegetables, I asked for it very very very rare and got it just rare ( which was as I wanted). The Polish lady serving the Chilean Wine looked after me all night and by god the wine was gorgeous. My bro had paid a fair whack for the cake which had written on it..

Around the World in 80 years, Happy Birthday Mam

So I am bugging myself now trying to get this to look right and you guys are getting an update of me trying to remember my html, work with a French Photoshop on an Italian computer......ahem...I am inserting photos with blogger but hand coding to get it better than it's giving me....ahem as I said....
So here is a pic of my super cool nephew, this guy has got it going on, and we decided to leave the red eye because it makes him look super super cool



Anyway the plan for the Sunday run was out the window at 730am when I woke up freezing and nursing a hang over. So I looked out the window, saw the SNOW, yes SNOW and I took a photo turned on the heating and went back to bed. I will only post it if no one believes me.
So I didn't get the run in, but I saw my brother on TV. My bro and his wife ran the 10k in the Phonex Park. I was laughing my head off. It was hail stoning and the guy who won the race was from Ethiopia I think. He had never run in weather in like it. The reason I was laughing was because I was warm in bed and the interviewer was giving out about the pain of the hailstones. I thought of sunny warm Nice in the South of France where I live, and of course my honey who is there. So life is not so bad only I am back and there is no sun. Bummmmmmmer
I had dinner with My Best Female Friend and no none of you stand a chance with her, and she is a friend and I am committed. ( I should be committed, to a home) Right? Good, Next!

So good food, good beer and good chat with my best buddy Tom and Ann they are in side bar about the Connolly film.

Then I got confused. Really confused. I saw this

I wondered what happens if you are slightly drunk and you get the chewing gum and the condoms mixed up? You end up chewing for hours for sure, but.....ah heck doesn't bare thinking about, but I am sure it's painful.

I don't really have a thought for day except this perhaps. Kylie Minogue was interviewed by Ellen Degeneres recently and said her doc had told her originally she didn't have cancer. Apparently her having cancer in her breast has contributed to the amount of women getting breast scans or checking themselves out and doing something about it. It's at a time like this I think that men and women must be different if only by virtue of things our bodies bring us. I know guys can have breast cancer but it's much rarer. I don't think girls get testicular anything unless they are playing with the boyfriend. Anyway whoever you are, where ever you are, I hope you enjoyed a look into my very personal life. I hope you keep yourself well. I hope you find the strength to keep going. Bless you all, and cheers. I had a real blast this weekend.

Flying

I just had the bejaysus scared out of me.
I turned on the light in the bathroom, it arced, blew, and smoked.
It gave me a bit of a fright.
Just like the bill I got from my sham of a now ex lawyer for 600 euros, for meeting him twice and for him engaging with the other party. Okay to be precise it's 598 taxes included. Cheeky bugger.
I don't have 600 euros so it will have to wait.
Tomorrow I fly to Dublin. My folks are having a party. I hadn't understood at all what the hell was going on so I am going on my own. Actually it's a mother of hooleys in a hotel. My folks are both 80 and feel like celebrating.
I had a funny thought today. I don't know if this is true but try it out. Fear. If you fear something enough you will make it happen. So don't bother being afraid. Just grit your teeth and go for it.

So at least I have this wonderful smile to come back to :-)

I think I might get used to adding some images here and brighten the place up!

Ho hum.......update: I just found out it's going to be dry in Dublin this weekend, waaaaaay, and 8-12 degrees centigrade....nooooooo waaaaaaaaaaaay....! This morning it was 21C at 9am in Cap D'ail...brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The Update, or Yolaine 2

I spelled her name incorrectly in a previous post. She was back. We saw her again, From a massive amount of people I am talking in the thousands, Yolaine finally made the cut into the last 27. I was amazed at her energy, pizzazz, passion, her complete transformation once she started singing. I wonder do I transform like that when I sing. No one has ever told me, but my Uncle ( God rest him) once said I sing not for myself but for those who listen to me and I took it as a compliment. Hell I was only 12 at the time.
Yolaine didn't make it to the final. She broke down on her final song. Again my story telling doesn't do justice, firstly she wasn't the only one to break down and by the time she got to sing it was late at night. She was exhausted. She cried. I was a bit moved to be honest. The program continued and we saw her being interviewed. It was make or break moment. The interviewer told her she would not be one of the few going to perform in BALTARD. " Yolaine, tu n'est pas prete".......the interviewer Lio, started to cry. Yolaine was smiling. Frankly she had got further than she had hoped, much further and everything else was a bonus. She was immensely happy. I was disgusted frankly, but after some reflection I saw the reason I was attracted to this lady. No I am not crippled, but I have often over come the odds in my life. I have also, and perhaps too often set my sights very very high, expected nothing and found that anything at all was a bonus. I wonder what lesson is there for me to learn from this? Do I accept my limitations or like Yolaine do I keep pushing the boundaries the limits and forcing myself to the best I can be? No I might not get to sing at BALTARD but damn hell I will do myself proud in trying. Who knows I might even get to meet Yolaine or Lio, who impressed me a lot to, and have some of there energy rub off. I just love people with tons of energy...So just watch it, I know you won't understand most of it, I am not going to tell you what was said but just have a look wait till the end. Remember this is someone who never sang in Public before.

Why are we infested with Moths?

So I have been having a hard time. I spoke to a guy in work the other day I asked him how things were? He told me he had a lot of problems and told me them one after the other. I offered him a swap and told him the story of my lawyer. He was astounded. In brief my lawyer rang my ex's dad ( also a lawyer) got lots of information about me, ended up menacing me with prison, and telling me he only worked for women. I know that sounds weird. Anyhow's ( as a very good friend of mine says), this guy, acquaintance gave me the number of a friend of his whom I have apparently met one night at a party. She is a family lawyer. We spoke, she was one of the most straightforward cut the bullshit nicest people I have spoken to since I got here. She told me what she was doing was normal, I think she was shocked when I told her, yes I used to believe that, but in my experience in this part of the world being nice and generous is not normal. she told me I wouldn't be going to prison, she told me not to worry, she put me at ease. She gave me the number of her best friend, who is going to take our case and disengage the other individual from the process.
I met the best friend today. She is a lovely woman, elegant, professional, still managing to warm and caring while being completely correct, I didn't want to get emotional, I ended up making her emotional.....my boy reminded again this weekend I am not allowed drop him..... I wouldn't and couldn't ever. So now I actually know what my rights are, I know I am supposed to keep all my receipts, I know I need documentation from home. None of this I knew with my last guy. Why are there people who don't give a toss about the lives of others they professionally represent?

Communication

Sometimes when he is tired my little boy gets into a strop. I try not to let him as I don't think sulking and moaning is a good strategy. I speak kindly but firmly, keep saying look at me and when he does, he knows I am real with him.
My ex has stopped answering the phone. I sent her a text message thursday the 13th saying we should talk, I explained I understood why she wasn't responding but it was okay. I am here any time to talk. She replied the following morning saying yes sometime this weekend would be good, she would let me know when. I waited all weekend on Sunday I sent another message, I said look it's fine maybe next weekend would be better? I got a reply that she didn't want to meet I had always lied to her in the past... I was stunned. I will save you the ins and outs suffice to say when I tried to tell her our son is showing signs of insecurity and apparently needs his father more, she told me I was full of bullshit. He doesn't let go when I put him to bed. He follows me to the toilet. He squeezes in between us to watch a movie. I love all that but I know it comes from him not being confident I am going to be there all the time. How do you explain to a child without traumatising him that this is life? It is not my choice that he doesn't have both parents living together, but I am so happy he at least is seeing his father happy and no longer abused. Will he come to my side when he is older and tell me all is okay, or will he rebuke me , will they fill him full of lies and half truths and non truths and anger and will he believe them all? All I can think of is saying to him is, look at me, look me in the eye my son and know our truth....I hope he does.

I want whatever feel good medicine this guy is on

WOW Okay I got it from Micheal Moore and I know you are not all fans of his.....but how can he say things are better......when will you make it stop? Yes I am back onto my political ranting can't you see? I must be loooooney lefty right?

Does it really?

I am interested. I want to know is George Bush right. Here is a report in it's entirety taken from the RTE.ie website. If you agree with the reported words of George Bush please tell me.... I just don't understand honestly.

The US President, George W Bush, has said US success in Iraq will merit the sacrifice of the 4,000 troops who have died there since the Iraqi invasion began five years ago.

His comments came less than a week after the fifth anniversary of the US-led invasion.
Mr Bush has insisted the decline in violence shows his strategy is working and needs more time.
His position is backed by the Republican Party presidential hopeful, Senator John McCain, a former Vietnam prisoner of war.

Both Democratic presidential hopefuls, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, have promised a quick withdrawal of US troops if elected.


The death toll of US soldiers in the conflict hit 4,000 after four troops were killed late yesterday in a Baghdad bombing.
The four died when their vehicle was hit by a roadside bomb while on patrol in southern Baghdad.

The conflict, which is now in its sixth year, has also wounded more than 29,000 American soldiers.

At least 97% of the deaths occurred after Mr Bush announced the end of 'major combat' in Iraq on 1 May 2003, as the military became caught between an anti-American insurgency and sectarian strife.

Despite the losses, Mr Bush has defended his decision to invade Iraq, vowing no retreat as he promised US soldiers would triumph despite the 'high cost in lives and treasure'.
According to a tracking website, 81.3% of the US soldiers killed have died in attacks by al-Qaeda, Sunni insurgent groups loyal to Saddam Hussein and radical Shia militias.

The remainder died in non-combat related incidents.( like what? )

Roadside bombs caused most of the casualties (about 40%), with small arms fire the second biggest killer.

No agreement on Iraq casualties

But up to three times as many Iraqi soldiers have died - and the number of civilians killed runs into tens and probably hundreds of thousands.

The icasualties.org website, based only on published reports, shows that around 8,000 members of the Iraqi security forces have died since the March 2003 invasion. Last year, however, the Iraqi government put the figure at 12,000.

There is no agreement when it comes to civilian casualties, particularly as many deaths are never reported in the media.
In January, a joint UN World Health Organisation and Iraqi government study concluded that between 104,000 and 223,000 Iraqis had died violently since the invasion.

As of 24 March, the independent Iraq Body Count website, based solely on incidents reported by the media, spoke of close to 90,000 deaths, of whom over a quarter died in 2007.
At the high end of the scale, British polling institute Opinion Research Business in a January report estimated the total number of civilian deaths at between 946,000 and 1.12m.

Now before you all go beating on me...this is not an anti american post... I genuinely don't understand. Enlighten me, please.

Power to Make Change

So here is a thought. You don't have to agree. I won't be watching the olympic games this year, nor buying any merchandise, till I am sure China is listening to the world and treating Tibet fairly, justly and humanely.
As a blogger I would ask you all to do the same. If one of you can make a little widgety thing we can stick on our blog please let me know. Then any one with a blog who feels the same way and is pro Tibet can stick it on their blog. I promise you it will effect change, take it into whatever social network site you use and advertise it there too. China in Tibet = no Olympics for me.

Alter Kation

It is St Pats night. I have been chatting to some Irish people, it relaxes me instantly to return to my native accent, to crack jokes and join in the craic that we have ingrained in our understanding. It was fun. My moldovan friend, a French pal , my lover all show up and we are doing the pub quiz. Lover is having a bad time and I am trying not to let it spoil my time. She has just finished her intense dancing, she hasn't eaten. The bar is crazy and over full and its not the easiest time in her cycle.
Later I go to the loo I return to find a guy leaning over her trying to get served, I excuse myself and move back into my space, he doesn't want to give it up, he wants to order a drink, he is rude and agressive so I stubbornly refuse. I slide into my spot where is my bag, my glass, my lover and tell him to back off. Now comes the cultural difference. At home the guy would swear at me and bugger off. Here they turn into Jack Russells. They bite the stick and refuse to let go. He insists, I insist I had said no, not maybe not perhaps no. Non! He continues 'Let me in there I want to get a drink', 'Go away, look there is space there go over there!', he pulls my arm, I look down where he has touched me and look back at him...I eyeball him he gets nervous. 'Don't touch me I say, Ne me touche pas, Jamais! he looks bad and sees the anger mixed with a 'I don't give a shit where this ends' feeling in my eyes. His friend arrives. He tries to poke push me out of the way I dont' move, it's not so easy to eyeball two guys at the same time and respond in French.... I loose my cool and start shouting in English, 'Look I said no you dickhead, no Fuck Off' . He doesn't he keeps up the same line of argument that he has been using for 15 minutes, missing getting served about 3 times. J the Aussie bar man comes to me to ask is everything okay. I tell him the guy is being an asshole he was to stand here, it's handbags, I am leaving soon anyway. J is happy with the response and moves away, However now I am being poked and grabbed again. I turn around, for the umpteenth time the little boy insists he wants to stand where I am so he can order a drink and for the umpteenth time I tell him to get lost.. I turn around to face the bar and he is suddenly on my back pushing me into my woman and the counter, I push back, I turn and look at him, I see his throat, I grab it and shove hard, he sails backwards, girls screams, Lover has tears, she is very afraid, she has never seen this, K the barman Jumps the bar landing between us, he is screaming they have had a hard night worked their balls off, and they have, he is right, this is dumb, a bouncer has my arm he is big. I am calm very calm. 'Laisse moi prends mes trucs' Non pas raison tu peut rester, mes tu dois te calmer... You can stay but you must be calm, 'it's okay', I see the guy away from me looking away, as if it has nothing to do with him, he looks embarassed or ashamed, maybe I am projecting. Moldovian Girl is looking at me biting her lip.... Everything returns to normal. It's time to go home, the Irish crowd start asking what happened, why are you leaving, I explain, Lovers look has changed, she has seen something she knew but hadn't witnessed and a part of her likes it... it was a storm in teacup, handbags, but it's left a bad taste, I can't stop telling people what happened....
The following morning I am in first in my team, Moroccan Princess asks me how the night was, I recount my adventure, She asks were the Irish? Non, I say, 'Arab Alors?, Meme pas reply, meaning not even, white french young guys too much drink....... Sometimes I hate living here and hate having to stand up for myself... but I do.

St Patricks day

It is St Patrick's day. March 17th. The divorce and custody battle couldn't be more depressing really.
After an initial breakthrough and agreement to talk on Friday, my ex ended up sending me abusive phone messages.. telling me I was spoiling everything. That my son was happy before I started the proceedings. She referred to our past. A past I don't care for. A horrible existence for both of us. But while I have moved on she still holds the anger and pain deep in her and blames it all entirely on me... Ostriches stick their heads in the ground when they are afraid. So does my ex and her family. She doesn't want to know that our son is traumatised by not seeing me. At almost eight years of age, he follows me everywhere as if he is attached to me like glue. It's cute sometimes, but it's worrying. This morning I went to the toilet as he was washing his teeth. When he came out of the bathroom immediately he started to call for me as he couldn't find me. When I answer from the loo, normally he sits outside on the ground waiting for me to finish. This morning their was relief in his voice. Frankly it pisses me off he is so scared when he can't see me.
My partner lacks confidence but does a great job of being his friend and confident and easing up the pressure that exists when someone is literally physically in your space every waking minute.
I have always regarded Hate as a useless emotion and anger as a great emotion if channelled correctly. However anger that is not released effectively and safely turns to hate. This weekend for the first time in this story, Hate has been unclenched in my heart, it spurts up into my mouth making feel like spewing forward....I am sure the look in my eyes right now would frighten even I.
I have friends asking Friends for my rights, what am I entitled to. I am tired of allowing my ex to treat me like dirt on her shoe, some thing she did since the start and something I reciprocated. I am not interested in going over old ground. Perhaps she needs that to move on, and if so, for the first time I am really unwilling to give her anything. Now I am faced with being stubborn and unmovable for the rest of my life. If I have to agree to her demand I will simply never compromise. When she wants her son for her birthday, her fathers birthday, for anything, if it is my time then she won't get him...........And what the hell would that solve?
My child growing up psychologically damaged by this ridiculous, stupid and needless fight is not my plan.
Well then my ancestors, for what it is worth, I call on your guidance and wisdom, your strength and your patience for I am truly at the end of my tether, I am not going to drop my son. If there is anyone out their reading who knows French and European law, give a shout.
I miss home, I miss familiarity, I miss understanding what is the right thing to do....

Justice ?

Here is a thing to give you all a laugh while I tear my hair out. Recently in blog land I lost someone I considered a friend because she judged me from her perspective. Given that our perspective is all we have I can't blame her. One of the things she said was how come you are separated 3 years and not divorced and living with someone else? Valid question and I understand and it's not that I am going to answer now. However, here is my latest escapade with my lawyer.
When I went to see him I told him I wanted a divorce and the ('garde alterner' ) meaning I would have my son with me/us every second week. It's quite normal in France. Although myself and my ex are not fans of each other we managed to communicate well enough unless she wanted to change something already planned.
She was changing too much and too many things and I got pissed off and 3 years after her demanding a divorce, while I learned french lost over a quarter of my weight, learned french, found a job, learned french, tried to be a comprising open individual, while learning french, regained the weight, gave up smoking, learned french and got fit, I finally found myself in a position to go and ask a lawyer, recommended mark you, by a friend of friend, to put my divorce in train.
In short I have my son every second weekend unless his mam decides there is something more important. I pay for his schooling and food. She lives in a 5 bedroomed house on 2 hectares, has a rich family, comes from the area, has a full time job, pays no rent, gets family allowance. I earn 1900 a month of which 1600 I get from which I pay 600 rent 200 food, 190 tax and then pay off all the bills I incurred when she threw me out on the street basically because I didn't accept her family in my ear, nor learn french quick enough ( 11 months) nor have a full time job.
So I told my lawyer I wanted a divorce and this alternative minding. A week later he told me my ex has a lawyer and no way it's not going to happen, she doesn't want money, but you can have your child every second weekend, wednesdays...( I work in Monaco 30km away and kids don't go to school on wednesdays here) and half the school holidays.... I told him no, don't be silly that's more or less my option, I told him Week on week off. After a few days I rang him back and said hey how about Thursday evening to Tuesday morning, so he has his wednesdays with his grandmother ...
Today he rang me back, almost 3 weeks later, he proposed Thursdays, till monday morning, + 200 euro. I told him basically but politely NO. He told me I would have no choice the judge is going to decide this, if I don't pay I would go to prison. I told him fine, it couldn't be worse in prison than living in France with no income, no friends, no support as I did 3 years ago. His reply was hey I love it when some one does that, a real Irish response, raising the flag. No I said, it's not Irish, there is no flag, it's me and only me. I told him all the sacrifices I had made. I gave up a career in film, gave up my studies in psychology, gave up the opportunity to study a course in business and computing before comming to france, gave up my home, my friends and my family, I am not giving up my son. Jail ( Gaol for you real english buffs) has zero fear for me and my wallet has zero euro for the mother of my son. That's the way it is.
Now here is the thing that is bugging me. He showed me her deposition for divorce that she made after I had met with him... I went to him to put in a deposition of divorce... where is my one? How come there was no depositon of me demanding the garde alterner ? How the hell do you find a lawyer in a foreign town to divorce you from the daughter of lawyer?
PS She has apparently been advised to no longer talk to me so the alternative minding won't be awarded............don't they think about the future?

Yolene

I don't know her. I saw her about 2 weeks ago on TV. Waiting. Big eyes, curly hair, framing her face, nice mouth. Pretty. When she walked in front of the judges it was revealed she was using sticks. She had had a motorbike accident 4 years ago. She belittled it saying it was nothing. She sang, I was impressed. I know singing, she does it.
I saw her last week on a completely different show. This time a group of physically challenged people trek to Kilamanjaro. Immediately I saw her I was riveted. Polio sufferers, deaf, blind, amputees, and Yolene. All of them tracking through bush and desert all of them struggling with each others struggles.
Yolene wasn't the only one who moved me but I allowed myself be moved most by her. 4 hours was the most she had walked in an age. I remember vividly her walking and arriving late in camp to be greeted by hordes of Africans jumping up and down cheering her home. I cried my heart out. I think she had walked 10 hours finally. I wasn't feeling sorry for her. I was just so touched by her steel. Her no nonsense nothing is going to stop me approach. Her refusal to let anyone put her down and negate her, and her sheer open heart on her terms. Dust, rocks, thorns, altitude sickness, rocks, and boulders, all on sticks dragging, forcing pushing those disobedient legs to their limits. Teaching them what they had forgotten. Teaching me. Her beauty, it is a profoundly deep inner beauty that shines forth. She is medically not supposed to be able to walk but she does more and more. Yolene like it or not you are an inspiration. I know you are in Aix en Provence somewhere, it's an hour and half away from here. Someday maybe we will meet and I can look in your eyes and you will see the joy you fill me with.
Now if only all of us had the same attitude. I am embarassed when I see people complain about having to walk across the road and I think of Yolene.

Life is Opera

When I was a child, Ireland was poor. Today it is the richest country in Europe. In the last 15 years Ireland has witnessed a cultural economic revolution that has changed it's make up and it's people for ever. Culture for me as a child was the Irish language, music, legends, traditions. European ideas of culture were far removed, alien, some how British. Suffice to say I grew up quite broadminded but ignorant of the fine arts. I knew about Leonardo da Vinci but thought the Mona Lisa a quite dark boring image, and when in Paris didn't bother to queue, to look at it.
I am such a commonor for you more classically educated people, and in truth sometimes it is an embarrasment. However I console myself that most of you couldn't sing a traditional air to save your life, nor know how to interact with a crowd of people who might just be listening to you at that time. Right then any process workers out there reading this will have already identified the battle going on in my head.
So here is the mix. Picture me on a Monday evening waiting for my Italian lady in an Irish Bar in Nice. Already the cultures become mixed and confused. My lady is off to practice her Flemenco, (hmm), Savianas, a blonde lady behind me looks at me as I look at her. 'Do you mind if I join you?'. Firworks alarm bells rockets, all go off at the same time. For the first time in 4.5 years, a person in a bar has just felt natural enough to want some company and not give a damn who the company is. Wow feels like home. I replied that is would be great, and yes part of that reply was driven by her exquisit features and amazingly pure blonde hair. I told her I was waiting for my partner to make sure there was no misconceptions from the start. We chatted, she worked in the Opera, in fact she was a singer, in fact she was the second Principal, in fact I nearly fell off my chair. I was flabbergasted, amazed, bemused. What had been a normal conversation between two people turned into a foggy lingustic road block as I couldnt really think of what next to say to the Finish woman opposite me.
I asked questions, lots of questions. In truth she told me it was a job like any other. I laughed. I had worked enough jobs, including on film and TV sets, and been on stage enough, to know well that her life was anything like normal. We chatted. Aqua arrived and the ladies got on well and a moments apprehension was disolved.
FinnLady as I will call her, offered us tickets to the Opera. I jumped at the idea. I had already been introduced to Ballet with mixed reaction. Shirakawi blew me away, and Maillot left me feeling cold and wondering what the hell was going on in his private life.

We offered her dinner. She came to the house, she had never seen roast duck before. I was intrigued. She sang a finish folk song for us, with her opera voice. I didn't understand a word and rarely speechless, I couldn't speak for about 5 minutes afterwards.

Finally the day came. We got to the Opera......Let me say when I write that I am still thinking I am stupid. Me...in the Opera.......yeah right get a life......Me in the OPERA... Not really. Just the best box right beside the stage, (with 3 other ladies aged 50 to 80 in black high heels, black dresses, lots of jewlery, Italian dialect, who my partner informed me after wards were definitely straight out of the Godfather, and most likely related to him. The older lady turned to me at the end of the night and smiled 'Bonsoir', God she fancies me at her age.... I thought.)
Now I understood more or less the gist of the story. I kept an eye on the subtitles above when I was getting lost, but translating from French to English while listening to Italian and looking at heaving bosoms on stage is not the most simple thing to do in the world. It's even more difficult when someone hits a note, and for no reason, that note, pierces your very core and brings tears to your eyes. I was feeling silly. The Wedding of Figaro is a comedy and here I was crying. I was also laughing too. It was an amazing experience. We went back stage. We ran out to the pub later and back in again to the last night celebrations. I walked around like an idiot telling people I was an opera virgin and had just broken my duck, while quaffing champagne from a plastic cup. What a night, I will never forget it.

I could write for hours about the Opera house in front of the sea, the people I saw and met. The things we did, but it's not the reason for writing here. Opera.
Opera....I had heard it would move people, it was indescrible...it's true. When a woman as beautiful as Finnlady, who is short, and funny, opens her mouth and makes you feel you have been touched personally by God in the most intimate part of your soul, then and only then can you say you have heard opera. When she does it a number of times in one performance along with people whom you have never met, then you can say you have seen, heard, and lived Opera... I am hooked.

Thanks Frank and Good luck in all.

Uncle Frank passed away. I last saw him in June 2006, crikey, that long already? He was still smoking, ..... I think. He had been off the drink since I was a kid. His family struck me as the archetypal, stereotypical, American, Fighting Irish. Nothing at all like us who actually lived there. Mike his son recounted how he used to beat the crap out of his brother and vice versa. I guess with the whole Family in AA there was some issues they had to work through. They were more than good guys though.
Before that I had last seen Frank in good health in Philly when I was 16, then in Ireland when I was 12, 10, 8, and God knows when before that. He lived on credit. He was I guess a bit of a good time Charlie, meaning he liked the good things in life. Married, divorced, lost his second wife to cancer, Frank always had what I called a wry smile on his face, a great sense of humour...he was a small guy, at the end anyway. Most of lung missing, A lot of weight gone, still the same wry smile. Back in Ireland for a Family reunion organised by his son. We had a grand old time. I can't tell you a lot about him. I guess he was a ladies man, a golfer, a smart guy, he took delight in our singing, backed us up against our mother who had her own issues.... even when he was in his own words, mighty pissed, ( angry or annoyed not drunk) he could still throw out a smile pretty quick. I loved the way he looked at me. He made me feel seen. He made me feel adult when I was just a kid, accepted, listened to and respected. I shaved him that last summer. His hands shook too much, his son had father son male issues, I get them completely.... I shaved him in our kitchen. I was afraid of cutting him, but I took great pleasure in servicing this gentleman. I know he appreciated it even though it wasn't perfect. He rubbed his hand around his jaw the way we men do,he looked at me that way, threw out the wry smile, thanked me and shuffled outside for a smoke.
I know you are there watching me, and watching your own. Maybe I am one of yours too as you are one of mine......I miss you Frank.

Sorry!

When you get up and look around you at the world you live in, know that today, white ruling people somewhere in the world, have finally taken responsibility for the crap they have dumped on others for generations. This report is from children who were stolen from their families and placed into families of strangers under a policy of assimilation. My particular brand of Irishness would hanker for the same thing from the British Government, that the indigenous Austrailians have just got from the Government there.
Wouldn't it be great if more governments stood up to their inherited moral responsibilites. It's one of my pet hates when people tell me you can't blame me for the actions of my grandfather. I reply, that perhaps they are right, but if so, how come you enjoy the benefits of his actions today then? Go read it, it might help you to look outside yourself a little. Hugs and kisses.

Being a Father

I got a text (sms) off my ex the other day telling me my son is going away on Sunday for a week. I am to pick him next Saturday afternoon and bring him back on Sunday. No questions were asked. It was just information that is all. Normally when he is with me it is Friday night to Monday morning. In that time I get to be a father, a friend, a confident, a playment, a discipliner, an educator, a hugger, a punch ball and a stuffed toy. There is no time for any thing else. I am followed everywhere as If I am about to dissappear in a puff of smoke. I asked him directly if he would like a week with me and a week with his mam. His answer was a big YES.
He is a good boy, he struggles with his English, he struggles with concentration, he is very untidy and falls over a lot because he goes to bed to late so he is constantly tired. Sometimes when we get him, he is falling asleep in his dinner at 8pm. I mean that literally.
This week the lawyer rang, my ex doesn't want to agree to alternate weeks. So I am being offered a Wednesday plus weekends. I didn't think about that offer, I said no straight out. The Lawyer was disappointed. Now it will be a long drawn out battle. I need to explain some things to him. I didn't leave my home and family and friends and future, to live in a foreign country and see my boy for 2 or 3 days out of every 15. In the last month I have seen him one weekend, because as we try the every second weekend thing, his mother still suits herself and chops and changes her mind.
I am Irish and so is my son, by birth, and legally. We live in France. I could if I wanted just take him back, there is legal precident already in France for that, but I won't bring him back to Ireland. I wouldn't do that to him. It would not be being a good father. I could insist on turning the tables completely, I keep him all the time and his mother have him every second weekend. How far do you think I would get with that? ..I could even propose very long weekends like from Thursday night to Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. Again I am inhibited because my mind doesn't think quickly enough in French and before I can think of any of the the lawyer is gone. I can't get in touch with him, as I don't have his number. Imagine that! I can ring his office only.
Yesterday I tried to get to talk to my boy, I rang his house, no answer. I sms his mother as we don't converse, she didn't reply. I rang his nounou, which is the childminder, he was shy speaking english in front of her and her family so we agreed to talk today. The land line doesn't answer, his mothers phone doesn't answer. I sent more sms, finally get an answer telling me to ring her mobile. I do, it's engaged.
Finally I get through, I get a hello how are you and the line goes dead.
It is hard being a Father when you never get to talk to or see your son. I wonder how bad I made things for my father by not ringing in the past...I am not blaming my nearly 8 year old boy don't worry. I am just thinking about my own father. ...Do you talk to your Dad? Do you tell him how happy you are he was there, or how angry you are that he was usless as a Dad? I hope my son knows when he is an adult that if it all goes wrong, I am doing as much as I can, short of storming up to his mothers house and forcing him out there, to be there for him, to show him I love him, to give him a future...Pity his mother can't see that.

The Lawyer

He is younger than I. I was referred to him three years ago. My french was crap, my confidence very low, and I thought that all the lawyers in town were friends of my father in law. He is also a lawyer. So I hesitated. Then I looked back and saw how empty the marriage was, it didn't ever exist. Why bother? She asked for it not me! The only thing important is my son! Now out of respect for my partner, because trying to see my son consistently and in a disciplined way is practically impossible, because his mother doesn't bother her ass talking to me anymore except when she wants something ( a little like when we were together), today, I, Collie, I went and saw a lawyer. Perhaps if there are no problems I will have my son every second week and be divorced in a few months. Perhaps. Then I would never have to deal with the shit my ex dumps on me from time to time. What a relief!
He couldn't tell me how much he would cost. Typical I suppose. He was affable, I thought he was Morrocan when I saw him. He was married 3 times to the same woman. Once in a civil marriage twice in a church. One of those times in Corsica just like me. He wants an Irish AuPair, preferably catholic. I guess he is not Moroccan or perhaps I am being narrow minded. The fact we were married civilly in Ireland is apparently important. He seems like a nice guy. He seems like an honest guy. He complimented my french. I texted or sent an SMS to my ex after the meeting telling her I had news, I didn't want to worry her or fight with her but I had a seen a lawyer about our divorce and I thought she should know. She hasn't responded. Par for the course really.
It feels weird. An emotional weight has shifted.
I have lost a friend who used to comment here a lot. I am sad about that.
I just feel really strange that I can be free of his mother and that for a change I might actually have my son on Christmas day.....wow what a thought.

Slow Euphoria

After finally purchasing the road bike in November, that my pals had clubbed together in September to get me for my birthday, after finally getting on it early December and having a nightmare, I had consigned it to our cellar. Each weekend came and went and the real fear of getting on the bike and tackling the hill outside the door that is 10km long, kept growing. I was getting to the stage of almost panic.

I couldn't do it, I didn't know how, I would never be a triathlete, blah blah blah.

Last night we had a few beers with some friends bugers and chips. We were home not too late, and in bed. There was no running today, it had been called off. So when I woke up at 4 O clock in the morning with a slight headache and had to go to the loo, I was wondering, how the hell am I ever going to do that bike?

Today there was a phone call at 10am. I wanted to sleep. It was someone selling some crap on the phone, I hung up. I hate those cold callers...(yes I know they have a job blah blah)...

I returned to bed my eyes falling on my new book about triathlons, I read two chapters, slapped myself on the head and got out bed. Breakfeast and a shower, organised my gear and before I knew it there I was standing in the living room with a bike in my hand ready to go. Or was I?

I sat on the sofa and watched some cable news, I was disturbed by the neigbours upstairs who earlier had been taking bath and now were giving themselves great reasons to get back into the bath..They have one spring in the bed that is incredibly noisy, almost as noisy as she is.

Enough I am getting out of here. I had the bike in the correct gear. I crossed the road. Looked out for traffic and hopped on. Within 10 meters there was an idiot who pulled out with the back door of his car still open.
I stopped and got off. The hill is very steep. I look like an idiot. Every one can tell I haven't a clue what I am doing.

I waited. The way was clear, back on again. I had planned to go to Aspremont from Cimiez where I live. Planned well, not really planned, I just had the idea in my head. It is roughly 10k each direction all hill. So getting there would be a bitch and comming back would be new underwear time as I am not used to the speed. I hadn't really been on a bicycle properly since I was a teenager.

On the bike, lowest gear, wobble, god this is not easy. Breathing ragged after a few meters.. yes a few meters, not kilometers.

I broached the small roundabout at Aire St Michel. Already exhausted and already tempted to stop a few times and having only gone about 2km. Now I was in virgin terrority. I had made the first part of the climb and there was a little down hill bit, I was smiling. One hour later of grunt and grind and burn I was positively whooping for joy. The Alps swept up away from the sea on my left to the snow capped peaks, no one was around, and the sun was shining. The view is quite simply breathtaking.

The joy of finally rounding the corner and seeing the sign at the start of the village was fantastic. I looked at it beside me and giggled.

I made it finally. It had taken ages lots of effort but not near as much as I had imagined in my monster fears. I was completely over the moon at the slaying of another beast, the cracking of a nut, the extraction of the thorn. It had been a big monster for me. But how it took me the best part of and hour and 40mins to get there and 20 mins to get back, well only a professional probably knows. Perhaps it gives you and idea of just how steep it was. But it was the first time, coming down from Aspremont fast on my bike, I smiled, and called myself a triathlete also for the first time. Simply because now I Swim Bike and Ride, so apologies to all you grown up triathletes but today I am born.
A slow Euphoria had built up, and softly exploded all over the hill side. I am sure the others on the road I met thought I was wacko. I was amazed however to see how much they all acknowledged each other, and I. I am pretty sure even one or two going in the opposite direction thought I knew what I was doing. The few dozen who passed me knew well I didn't. I did't care.
It's a great feeling to be a little part of this 'new' community.

What Colour Are Your Far Away Fields?

Funny how when you stop looking for things they arrive.
I have a blog Friend Annie, who wrote this post .
When I read it I was struck by how often I look at other people and wish I had what they had.

I wish I was financially independent. I wish I was better looking, more handsome. I wish I was fitter, stronger faster. I wish my job was more fulfilling, I wish my partner and I understood each other better and communicated better. I wish I could have great sex every day of my life and never tire of it, and that it could be with a few different people. I wish I had a flash car. I wish I could do something for humanity. I wish I could make my son proud of me. I wish I was proud of myself. I wish I had a house of my own.

Funny how when you start wishing the list can go on forever. The problem is that if I am wishing for something, I am looking away from where I am at, to where I think I might want to be.

If I see a guy driving a Bentley and say to myself I wish I was him, what happens if I see him go home alone to an empty house and drink himself into a stupor because of his problems with depression and the discover that his testicular cancer is going to kill him in 6 weeks. Do I still want to be him? NO of course not.

So not only am I looking elsewhere and wishing, I am not even seeing clearly what I am looking at.

So I have a desire to see things clearly and just like when you are in a fog, the clearest place to look is immediately around you. I must look at myself. What do I see? I am a 40 year old Dad, in good shape. I have a job and a partner. I live in a pretty decent place where the weather is normally agreeable to staying fit. I have friends in distant countries.
My partner is crazy about me. My son loves me.
I have goals that are achieveable.

Now if I am to look clearly, I could perhaps write about all the negative things too. But I know what they are and I don't find it helpful to look at them too much. Suffice to say for me its about taking the positive about where I am and weighing it up against the realistic possiblities of the where I want to be, and taking action to get the result.

In other words, discovering what is it that I must absolutely do to achieve a place of peace and contentment and self fulfillment.

1 Be in a great relationship = my taking responsibility for my role in the parts that are not great.
2.Being a successful writer = my taking responsibility for sitting down on my ass and writing.
3.Completing an Iron Man one time in my life = my taking responsibility for training.
4.Being the best father I can be = Stepping more into my power to take responsibility to get what we need to be together more often.

The list in fact for me at the moment is endless. That is perhaps a negative sign that I am not very happy in myself. The positive side is I realise that and I am discovering ways to cope, to improve and to shorten the list.
The strategy results in the list being reduced little by little till one day without really trying to achieve happiness and inner peace, but rather dealing with the issues that make one unhappy, you achieve a place of serenity.
I urge you to make a list if you have to. Make it as long as possible. Often there is one thing, one thing only that you can identify that if you don't do you will die. If you can find that thing, I urge you to pursue it to your hearts content.

On another note, we have had the wettest winter in my four years here. The motorway is cut off because of a land slide as is the Grand Corniche. The connection between the Grand and Moyenne is also cut. So traffic is just crazy. It took 2 hours to get to work this morning which was about 1.20 more than usual. Despite the constent rain and landslides I managed to get out for run on Sunday in my new running shoes. I ran 13k. I swam 600m yesterday.

What Have I Started

Okay, so at best I had been running twice a week over 7km. Usually just once. The start of the Nice Prom Classic 2008 was impressive. I went down with two lady friends who permit me to run with them. The tolerate my presence we have a laugh and they leave me for dead.

There was about 5 to 6 thousand people there I was very nervous or maybe just awkward at the start. I didn't really know if I could do it. I didn't want to quit or finish last.

There was a jazzy lady doing her DJ Style warm up for the whole group but she was so small and so low down I could not see what she was doing clearly. Besides I felt like a dork throwing my hands up in the air even though the immediate 3000 people around me seemed to be doing very well.

Nerves nerves nerves. How fast does he run? Can I run better than him? The ladies started before us, we all clapped and cheered, suddenly I was feeling a bit better. The race started at a walking pace. There was too many of us, it was damn awkward. Quickly some bright spark opened the other side of the road and I crossed over and settled into my stride. OH my God everyone just ran past me like I wasn't there. The first KM passed in 5 minutes exact, way too fast for me I was expecting to finish in 1 hour 5 or 10 minutes, IF I could finish. The second km was 5mins flat as well that meant I was on course for a 50 minute finish and hospital for a week. I just can't run that fast YET over that distance. I was convinced I was last untill I looked over my shoulder to see a thousand sweaty guys of all shapes and sizes chasing me down.

God when I got to 3km I thought well a third of the race gone only that distance twice more and then a push. I wanted to stop. I had to fight a lot through that km. 4km my two friends passed me on the other side, I roared out them, 'Hey les filles' and 200 filles turned their heads but not my pals....Km5 was easier, there was water, I was on the home stretch in a minute. and I settled down and slowed down. I was now over half way and starting to pass a lot of people it felt good. Km 6 was another trying to calm myself down and push on at the same time I was looking at the watch I was due under the hour if I kept that pace up, I was so scared of a DNF I kept trying to slow down.
Now I was on KM 7, old fat guys passed me, guys who had disability. One guy who wasn't breathing kept getting up to my shoulder running, then walking, eventually after stopping and starting he managed to pass me out about a KM after I had passed him.
Half way through the 8km I was lengthening my stride a little I could see the sign for 9k ahead. I could see a woman ahead of me I was gaining on her. I was going to finish on the hour this was great. I flew past her and saw her face, she was shattered. Come on I yell in French don't stop, allez allez allez, viens, n'arretez pas! She saw me and held out her hand as she tried to run after me. I slowed up grabbed on and towed her along a few meters, our hands were still held. I spoke to her, breath , come on you can do it. Allez... 'No English' she tried to smile, she couldn't do it.. allez tu n'arret pas. We were still holding hands, she didn't want to let go. I think like me there was a little fear.

I had to disengage my hand I was thinking it wasn't correct to be holding her hand that long. It was like an elastic snapping She slowed right up as I took off again. 9km I slowed down she reached me, "Come on only 1 more, c'est la dernier" .. "Aller tu peut le faire"... I think she got the gyst. 'Je dois aller' Which I think may not be correct but it's what I said and off I went I practically sprinted. the last 800 meters. I flew past lots of people it was a great feeling.

I was over the line I was sure in about 1:01 the clock read 1:02:27. I was buggered, knackered, destroyed, and surprisingly emotional. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. It was really strange. There was no one there for me, I wanted a hug. I wanted someone to say well done, clap me on the back because fuck it, it was hard. So I waited a few minutes by the finish line, I saw her coming, I clapped and cheered, and said bravo madam, she saw me, a big smile. Then I ran away.

I got water, chocolate, bananas, orange, there was all sorts of stuff available for us. It was great to be alive. I found my friends after about half an hour. There were in form. They had finished in 0.57 . It was their second race, the first they had done in 0.59. They run 3 times a week and a semi marathon is on the card in February.

First I have to fork out a lot more than I have for a pair of running shoes. Mine are a little too small. I have huge blisters on my toes. I mean huge. My ankles hurt. I am taking this seriously. Somewhere down the end of the tunnel is the Iron Man if I can find him, but it's a long long long way away.
Another 10 km before April and then the semi marathon. That would be a lot of fun.

What I did and Where I am going.

Well that was a pretty decent festival season. We ate duck cooked by me and shared with a friend on the 23rd.
(Try balsamic vinegar, sugar, thyme, red wine. Boil it down to almost a treacle and spread it beside the bird. )
That was our Christmas day with my son. Later that week his mother forced him to ring me to tell me he would be bored in Italy. How do you deal with a 7 year old and teach him that plans made should be honoured? Hmm anyway. Then on the 25th with our friend still here, I cooked Boar, Venison, Ostrich, (just a little of each. My partner cooked in between days a really good sea food pasta and king prawns. We put on a lot of weight :-).
Finally with my boy we drove for 4 hours to Livorno, I did a Christmas shopping for her mother, It was a damn expensive present but she can hardly afford to heat the house, so we filled her fridge a second time :). That made me feel damn good. We ate later in the week with her sister. Real Tuscan stuff, Oil, tomatoes, chicken marinated in white wine and citrus fruits.. ahhh. We went to Colodi, the home of Pinocchio, not the Disney version, the original version. I was gently impressed at the lack of kitsch and the presence of very artistic statues and gardens. Then her father cooked for us many many different dishes. Wine was plentiful. On new years eve we let off fireworks. On New Years day finally my Son and I got to fulfill our ambition and climbed the tower of Pisa. The cost was astronomical, the view astounding, the feeling bizzare and the experience for me was well worth the wait.
Where I am going in 2008? Well I have got myself into a pickle by saying I would at some stage do an iron man.
So baby steps. I have enrolled for my first 10km race. I am very slow, it will take me an hour if I finish at all :-) I swam 500m today, and I have promised to go for a cycle next Sunday. So by the end of the year. I should be able to enroll for the half Iron man in 2009 in Monaco. I know why not this year? Well it takes a lot of time, I have no coach, and it's expensive. Still baby steps.
Love to you all and a great new year. Climb those towers and run those races and achieve your dreams. :-)

Happy New Year from Tuscany

We are relaxing. We are eating great food. We have seen all of Aquas family. I am using an Italian keyboard today so I cant punctuate as I should. The food is fantastic. Tickets have been bought to go up the Leaning Tower tomorrow at 2pm. My son was really disappointed there was a 3 hour waiting time today. It was cute to watch him so excited. We have bought some baby fireworks and will go across the river to let them off around midnight. We have already had a big siesta in preparation.
Thank you to all who have come by and read something. May 2008 be the year your dreams come true.

How not to rent a car in Ireland (part 1)

I know I know I should be wishing anyone who reads a happy Christmas and wonderful new year. In the meantime this is a letter I wrote to a rent a car company in Ireland. You might think I am off the mark or you might agree with my sentiments, but I am sure you will figure out what happened from the following. Let me know what you think.

I am writing to you in regard to the email you sent my partner " Aqua " dated Dec 18 2007, 3:38.
I would like to voice my astonishment at the quote Budget Ireland have furnished us and my incredulity that it comes in neatly at €1.08 under the Excess liability of €900.00
I would also like to inform you it is not at all to our satisfaction.
The email in fact gives rise to a number of questions here that need to be answered.

Firstly how is it possible that a mechanic can quote Budget Ireland practically the sum of Excess liability you have taken from us, unless he was informed before hand that this was the figure he had to play around with it. I find it astonishing you would think us naive as to believe that this quote is purely coincidence. At present I am putting it down to careless on behalf of Budget Ireland and it's employees.

Having lived abroad for 4 years, and while living in Ireland, I have been involved in the tourist trade, I am very aware of what rented cars look like normally and the condition they are received by clients of car rental companies.
The car in question when it was rented by us, had dents and rust on both front doors and various marks around the front and rear of the car. Of course it is none of my business whatsoever, about what procedure was followed with other renters of the car, but it seems quite clear if you look at your paperwork that it's not the first time this car has been damaged in rental.
It would appear therefore that your company do not at any time bother to repair the body work of their cars, or certainly of this one. Therefore this €900 approx quote is just that. We are being charged a sum of money for work that will never take place. I sincerely hope this is not the case.

I would therefore request that under the Freedom of Information Act 1997 you forward me the list of people and contact details who have rented this car before us.


I would like to inform you I have rung the garage in question that provided Budget Ireland with this outrageous quote, and without knowing what specific car I was talking about , nor the extent of the damage, the man I spoke to told me it would cost over €800 to replace the rear bumper. I was astonished again at his apparent clairvoyance having not seen the damage how could he know the bumper needed to be replace. It would seem perhaps that Budget Ireland didn't actually bring the car to be seen by the mechanic but just asked how much it would be to replace a rear bumper, could you confirm this for me please when you have a moment?
I have been around mechanics all my life and I can guarantee it doesn't take 6 hours work for a skilled technician to replace this single piece on a car.

I have checked out the price for the part on the Internet and it is as follows $42.41 dollars. The most expensive one I found was $ 52 Your mechanic is charging you apparently €192 which is roughly about 8 times the price given the dollar difference.
You also seem to have no problem with €160 euros for paint. May I ask what is he painting? the bumper will be order from Toyota to the same specification as the car in other words it means the paint matches. So what exactly has to be painted ? Either the bumper is being replaced or repaired, but surely the new one doesn't need to be painted.
You don't take issue with the fact he is charging you for bumper clips, how may I ask is the bumper on the car at present? Why do the clips need to be replaced. ?
You also have no issue with the fact that he proposes to charge you for polishing a car that hasn't seen polish in 2 years.

I will be forwarding the photographs of the damage to my own mechanic in Dublin and will be asking a friend in the legal system to have look at our file to see how we might progress.

Now onto other issues,

When we returned to check in with the car in Dublin Airport we were informed by you employee that we would have a response in 2 to 3 weeks. It has taken 5 -6 weeks to have response from you, plus numerous phone calls where I left my number and I was told that you would be contacting me. I am still waiting for that contact.

At the same time as we were filling out the legal forms, my 7 year old had to listen to a tirade of swearing from you desk manager, who under other circumstances I may have taken aside and explained some notions of customer service, and good manners. However it was the end of a long trip, we were already upset about the car, and his tirade was just another thing that we as paying clients had to put with. I noted how he seemed to charge his staff with work without doing anything himself except chatting up a woman from another company. His staff don't seem to like him much and frankly I don't think many of the clients in the queue were too impressed with his grasp of bad language.

So I am sure you can clearly see why I feel so aggrieved.

You see I am not someone who believes in 'good enough' or 'it will do'. I have tried to give your company the benefit of the doubt at each step. Neither will I take any shoddy or lazy treatment from any company, and if your company is not being disingenuous with us, it is at the very least not taking care of it's clients. I am someone who believes in respect honesty and seeking out the best for customers that will come back again. Already you have missed out on us renting a car with you twice a year for the next 10 years which I believe in comparison to the few hundred euros Budget Ireland may have gained with this transaction, will substitute a greater loss in the long term. Given that we reside in an international community many of whom long to visit Ireland and explore, we will be actively advising people to rent with another car company and I would guess the losses to Budget in this case would be in the thousands of euros due to shoddy treatment of clients .


As is my want again I give you personally the benefit of the doubt. I am not accusing you personally of anything, I couldn't even If I wanted to. The only contact I have had with you is to see your polite email sent to my partner, but I am sure you don't really believe that this could be to our satisfaction and that you are just doing your job.

I wish you all the best for the new year and look forward to receiving the list I have asked for above.


So dear reader, as I am sure there is only one reader, sorry for the long winded post but, well look else where for a car :-) . Happy new year.

Time I don't have

I should be writing, I should be reading my favourite blogs. Some of them have been banned in work. Work is hectic I don't have the time to surf. Actually that's how work should be. Home is hectic, getting ready for Christmas. My loved ones are ill and not in good form. Of course I go completely loopy because they don't tell me how bad they are feeling and I think I have been zapped to another planet where I am the only one who understands anything. Life lesson, if you think you are the only one who...anything.. well then you are 99% certainly wrong. Obviously that excludes the 1% of you that are reading this that are always right. Given I don't have a huge number of readers that probably applies to someones elbow being right all the time, or something.
Okay I am digressing and blathering. I don't have time to write. So in the off chance it stays that way till next year, Check out Gillette the excourtesan in transition, and Anne's writings, ooh and Pamm. Anne and Pamm are in the side bar somewhere and Gillette you can just google her.
Happy Christmas and a brilliant New Year to everyone who has bothered to read, stopped in for a moment, had a discussion, followed, encouraged, argued or even noticed.
I will put in the hyper links later but for the moment Time I don't have.
Love you all.
Warrior. ............IT's not my real name, no one calls me that, I have had a transition since I took it....anyway I don't have time to change it.
Love and hugs to you all.

Christmas

It's December. I will see my son for about 6 days between now and then. His mother refuses to answer if he can come to a company organised celebration next Saturday. There is a present waiting for him.
The tree has been bought and decorated. He had fun. He was strangely distant on Monday morning, not wanting to give me a hug and kiss in front of his friends. Already, at 7 he is changing.
He made a song at the weekend in french. It was basically 'Beside my little good man was my little good man' which he sang about 15 times and finished with comic timing perfection to 'beside my little good man was nobody'.
He wants a bike so he can go cycling with us. I want to get it for him. But I am too nervous to go out on my own bike on the roads around us....logic says the bike must wait.
He wants a Robot..no not one of those 150 euro black and white things that have computerised behaviour patterns..a real robot with lazers and blazing eyes...
He wants Mega Bloks.
What to get for my partner and my friend coming over from Ireland I haven't a clue. Women can be difficult to buy for. Sometimes they appreciate the most simple things far more than any man ever would. But who wants to buy simple at Christmas.

I try to keep it limited on spending and stress. Its not easy. I fully expect my son's mother to change plans again at the last minute. He is supposed to Celebrate Christmas with us on the Weekend before hand and then on the Monday Christmas eve go back to his Mam. I know she is going to screw that up. She did last year.

But this is Christmas. The time of year when my nerves are on edge as to the welfare of my son and I try not to let him see me stress. I want him to know how much he is loved even if he isn't with me all the time. I have no hate for his mother, just dissappointment. I dont see the point in waisting my energy hating.
It's Christmas.

So it's really only early december but for us it's six days to Christmas and then a few days after there is another Christmas but my boy isn't there so I don't feel too much like celebrating that one.
This is Christmas make of it what you will but for crying out loud enjoy it.