Time is Trickling

I am not too sure how much longer I will be blogging. Since the baby has been born, things have got very busy life wise. I am still waiting to be divorced. Finances are at an all time low, I am just ignoring the letters the bank sends. There isn't really anything else I can do. Boy now spends his Wednesdays with his Uncle, his free time in his grandmothers house. His mother seems happy to pass him around.
I am still waiting for the war and abuse when she realises there will be no more changing and chopping weekends to suit her and her family. It won't be easy to take that stand but I will have to take it.
Work is usually busy, but like anywhere there are high and low periods. I am in an organisation where the understanding of open communication and team work is at a premium. You can imagine the challenge.
Lover is finding it hard being back at work and not being with the baby. I understand, but there is zero chance of surviving on 1 salary let alone it being my one.
My college education, post grad diploma and various courses in computers are unrecognised here. It's as if I was uneducated. My Salary I am afraid reflects that. Arguing it is like trying to convince a leopard that stripes are better and he really should wear a Zebra coat.
I still have a problem with my lower back/hip, but I have been swimming again for a couple of weeks. I have also started on the bicycle again. It's good, yesterday I got up as far as Aspremont which is a 20km round trip. I start about 190 meters above sea level, go up to 500 meters above sea level and come back again. The trip back takes roughly 25 minutes, the trip up took one hour and ten minutes. Still I love it.
I have put on quite a bit of weight in my non active period. I am trying not to let the frustrations of life get the better of me, to remain zen as it were.
I have goals, questions, desires, and yet; I am feeling or thinking, that nothing I do can make anything change. I am on the road pre determined, or destined, and somehow, life knows what choices I am making before I am even faced with it.
I remember my friend telling me, 'Slowly slowly catchee monkee', I can't for the life of me remember what it is from but I get the gist of it. Slow and calm, no questions, just move forward, slow and calm. Make no haste in the race to become the ultimate you, yet move gently forward, barely rustling the leaves of obstacles so the branches that would hinder you can slowly bend to your path and the forest will open to your desires. Slowly calmly moving forward.

May Day, May Day, but nothing urgent!

As the world economic crisis, grips countries around the globe, strong ripples wave their way through France and Monaco. People are loosing jobs, but not to the same extent as elsewhere. I am hoping this time I will be safe. I have had little time for writing or thinking. Work is constantly busy to make up for the short fall caused by those let go.
I am clearly tired in the evening as is lover. Booboo, our girl is just so smiley though, so we can't complain.
The festival time is starting too in the big wind up to Summer.
The barriers and coloured hoarding are all up in Monaco for the Grand Prix in 3 weeks time. Tourists are arriving already. The schools are out on holidays.
We had a hell of time finding someone to look after girl, but finally found someone awkwardly placed in relation to where we live.
Monday Morning will therefore be a panic, back to school for boy then the other direction for girl, then back to where we came from to reach the motor way...... I am not looking forward to it.
The rain has finally stopped, if it doesn't rain for the month of May we are in for a crazy hot summer.
I am swimming again and we encouraging each other to loose our winter bellys, with some situps, and hip stretches in the evenings. It is isn't easy, but hey there are too many flat bellys around for us to be comfortable on the beach.
There are issues to deal with between us, but I reckon if we feel good about ourselves we can only feel better about each other.
There is loads I could write about, but I am tired of whining about the divorce, which is costing me more and more each time I see my lawyer. It would have already paid for a very nice 2 week holiday in Ireland for the 4 of us.
I hope to get home this year and keep the job :-).
I am having fun reading a lot of blogs and playing video games to deeeeee stress myself, or is unstress, weird, or is it wierd?
Anyhow, things are okay, it's a loooong weekend. Not doing much but socialising today.
Have a happy May.

What colour are the stars?

So today we went for a stroll in the forest. I haven't got the photos downloaded. It's boys birthday.
Boy was with the 'other' family celebrating in the garden, while I decided it was time to get back on my bike in more ways than one.
It's time to get back to school and get a french piece of paper that proves to the world I am intelligent and worth a decent salary.
It could also be time to knuckle down and write. I don't know how many successful writers won their battles with procrastinism but I am sure there were a few. My problem is, that it hasn't been a battle, it's been a full scale war. I will let you know who wins if I am published :-).
I hopped up on the bicycle today and my legs are still jelly. You see I live on a road that has 13-15% gradient. It's steep, and the only way to be sure of getting home is by going up.
I also picked just after eating a plate of pasta with onions and tomatoes as the time to go. Suffice to say I was back in the house after 40 minutes.

I washed up and loaded girl into the car and lover and I and she, set off for the countryside. A sunny hot drive to the wilderness, over populated by a million others with the same idea.

But still it was quiet. It was tranquil. We had a nice walk, we took some nice photos. We chilled out. It's the first time we have been alone in 3 months, outside, with no commitment to anyone else. It was relaxing.

We are soooooooo unfit.

While there we noticed two guys. Lover saw them first. Militaries, she called them. I looked over to see two world war 2 English Helmets peeking above the ground. I looked closer, one had a camera. I assumed there and then it was two guys trying to write a book, taking photos in period costume.
Later we came upon them again and I stole some photos. Eventually one of them spoke up and I thought I should have asked for permission. Actually he offered to let us take more shots.

He was about 18. He told us about the landings at Theoule, Antibes and elsewhere along the coast during the second world war. He wasn't surprised we hadn't heard anything about it. He referred to Normandy and the thousands of books written about it and the various landings during the war.

He explained the Senegalis story that came from Africa to repulse the Nazi's from France and save Europe. I was gobsmacked.

He recounted how sometimes he gets support, sometimes ridiculed, sometimes people think he is mad. I told him they are badly educated. But then so am I. As a child growing up, the war was portrayed simply from the British American point of view. It was only by meeting people from Russia I learned of her huge sacrifices and now today I learn even more about the sacrifices of boys of colour, who believed the hype.

As I sat there talking to this young man, idealistic, I wondered has anything changed in the 60 or so years? Has the world learned anything? Why are the white people still ridiculing the black and using him to fight their wars. Why more profoundly are we whites aligned with those whites, when our history has more in common with the history of the black man than of any white man outside the shores of my homeland.

I have moved on. I don't truly at this moment identify myself with a country or race. I am in identity limbo. Perhaps it's better that way.
This young mans story and what he showed me today have given me the kick up the backside I needed.
Long live the spring!

How much time do you have?

When I came to France, I had left Ireland,under the impression that I was moving into a house that was been given to us to look after and do some work on, and that my father in law would help me find a job through his contacts. I very quickly realised that this would never happen.

The house I moved into on 2.5 hectares of land had no electricity or hot water, holes in the roof and the grounds were completely unkempt. The house had rats and was not suitable to be the living quarters of a family.

In my time there I replaced ceilings, helped plan the installation of electrical wiring , installed water pipes cut grass and trees and used a chainsaw, and a heavy garden machinery. None of which I was qualified to do but all of which I did thinking it was for the future of my family.

When the relationship between my ex and I broke down, I had no job, my level of French was minimal, my understanding of the administrative tasks involved in French life was non existent and I found many practices culturally very different.

Faced with the prospect of probably never seeing my son again or only in Summer time at best, I decided to stay in France for him. I was completely alone.

I had asked my ex for help in order to find a place to live, she refused. It was with tenacity and persistence on my part that I finally found someone willing to rent me a studio and I had no references no guarantees but I pleaded with the agent.

During the break up I got my first job teaching English.

My revenue Brut Global in 2004 was 3600 euros. I still had to feed myself and my son when he was with me, and pay rent and electricity.
In 2005 my revenue Brut Global was 7782 euros. Fortunately I had friends at home and had made some friends in France who helped out with administrative tasks, kept my morale up as best they could and encouraged me to stay for my son. In these two years, I was obliged to rely on others to get by, I visited the St Vincent de Paul in order to be able to eat. .

I obtained a scooter for transport and found finally a willing companion who has been my rock in a very challenging time in my life.
I am 1m80 which is a inch short of 6ft, and when I met my current partner I was 59kgs. There is a pic of me on face book. It scares me now when I look at it.

I had discussed often with his mother the fact that when I was established we would share the care of our son. The more established I became however the more reluctant she appeared to be. Dates that were made, were often broken and I could never be sure even around Christmas as to if and when I would see my son. She is incapable of sticking to dates or organising ahead.

I have paid his school and canteen always despite my earnings being so low. Oisín has always had enough clothes, toys, and food in his home with me, and I have often received him in shoes or trousers that are ripped and torn.

I have in the past 5 years, managed to hold down a full time job, to learn French and although I can speak well I wouldn’t consider myself fluent, certainly I am bilingual. I have also obtained my full driving licence, although driving on the other side of the road was a challenge for a while. I have continued to teach Oisín to communicate, to use English, to guide him as best I can. I quit smoking again for him in order to be there when he is older. I learned to swim correctly and I have become fit, all for my son.
I am now settled and I am a father again, one year after trying to get a divorce in the first instance. Finally Oisín has a sister and he is very proud and very loving toward her. I have succeeded despite my ex wife. Whatever issue she may or may not have with me, she has no right to use our son to gain leverage of any sort.

I have had no wish to engage in a fight or to disturb my son. My strategy in not asking for full garde was to be fair. My wish was to engage maturely as the good parents that we are. But this social inquest and my difficulties with the first lawyer, a friend of my ex’s father, who threatened me with prison, signal that the boy's mother and her family are willing to play politics with him.

Now there is the question of his sister who will grow up knowing her brother is 2kms away but she can’t see him and how do we explain that to both children?

I am not going away. I live in this country for my son, and now for the rest our family. I am the father of my son. I am doing my job. I am there for him. I will never let him down no matter how much other people may wish me to disappear. I am asking the French state and legal system to understand that in our case some form of shared care must be established. Every second weekend is not enough. I am open to suggestions, to innovations, to compromises and this I know in my heart is the way forward.

But whatever happens he will always be loved and soon it will be time to just get on and move forward.

Life goes by so fast

I have had friends here. Good friends. It's been pleasant. I am over tired. Boy was here earlier than expected for the French mid term break. We had 11 days of bliss, learned the times tables, played video games, changed and bathed his sister together. We had fun.
I have received lots of letters that I have requested from people asking for them to write how I am as a father. Some are very perfunctory some are very touching. The French are big on letters and legal things, and there is a special way to write this stuff.
I will update soon with a proper response to the social inquest. But for the moment, my couple is under some strain, but we are managing to hang in there. Our daughter is beautiful as are our friends. I am learning lots about people when I see how the interact with my girl.
I am evolving! Finding my power and then stepping into it, has been difficult but I am beginning to manage it a lot better now.

Somthing Amiss

Well I haven't been writing because with the New Born it's been a bit of the lack of sleep that has been killing the writing desire.
However there are other issues which I don't dare talk too much about now. I am in contact with my Lawyer a lot in regards to my son. It's worrying, but I am hoping common sense, justice, and fairness will be seen to win through in the end.
I am reading lots but I am so tired at night as if I have spent the day training.
I have managed to take up the swimming again which helps the stress levels stay down.
My best friend lost his mother and it's tough not to be able to go and be there for him and his family but he will be with me next week.
Eh Volia and crazy short update on life to blogland..........
keep your fingers crossed for me!

Sleep

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I wish!

Bitten on the Ass.

You know, sometimes life is just wonderful. In the last 2-3 weeks, I have become a father again. My daughter is wonderful, a miracle, amazing, and incredibly pleasing to both my lover, boy, and of course myself. I have seen my 'mother in law' barking on the phone to her dog, my sister in law arrived with a new style coat, that I had admired a long time ago. She is training to be a designer. Her taste is right up my street. A little conservative, a little......erm...left of left lets say.
In fact there was so much joy and so much newness in my circle I had almost managed to push it to the back of my mind. Then last Tuesday morning my lawyer rang. I knew from her tone it wasn't going to be good news. She was in possession of the 'judgement' of social services and would send it to me. As soon as I would get a translation I would ring her to discuss an appointment and to decide how to proceed. Nothing in her tone or words gave me cause for hope.
Friday morning I brought boy to school, rebuilt a computer with an amazingly strong graphic card, that lover had bought for my Christmas present. I was happy. I mean genuinely happy. That feeling that comes so rarely in life. The world is perfect, all your loved ones are close, no one is pissing you off, even finances momentarily are not a problem. I was glowing. I suppose it was like an after orgasm, or an escape to victory, or some feeling comparable. This feeling however had duration, longation, durability, realness, tangibility. I was alive.
At 4:15 I went to collect Boy, our 'copains' friends were at the school. I should fill you in, because of my history in filming, I had a panasonic T shirt. I was seen by a couple who work in film, they made contact with me, they are the only people in the area to have bothered. We love them and feel appreciated by them. He was there with his parents in law as the kids got out, and introduced me as ' a friend' and I was very touched. We had some banter. I was confident. I was alive. I was happy.
Boy came out and we greeted each other the way an 8 year old can greet his father when everyone is looking. We came back home and checked the post. I knew what was in the envelope before I opened it. I could feel the energy from it. It drained me immediately.
I managed to stay calm as I read the lies. The report included the social workers report about her meetings with me and Boy's mother and himself. In honesty it didn't appear to give creedence to the lies told about me. However the report, (made while she wasn't working) stipulates that things should stay as they are. I should see my son, every 15 days. I should pay his mother upkeep of 300 euros a month.
Let me say that last night basically I cried myself to sleep. Okay so emotionally it is hard, I feel my heart is torn. Yes I have a new life with Girl, Lover, but I would not Choose ever between Girl and Boy.
Now on principal here is what pisses me off. I have made huge efforts. Yes I clap myself on the back ( basically because no one else does and I need to feel good). I gave up a career, a culture, an identity and friends for something that tumbled down on my head. Smashed me. I survived. Now I have to play second fiddle to a person who now has a full time job ( funny how just for the period of the investigation she was available for her child) so my son is absent from his home for a minimum of 12 hours a day. Then he is often posted out to an aunt, an uncle, grandmother etc; while mother is off doing her thing. I don't have a problem with that. The problem I have is he could be with his father sooner in the day more often in the week, with his step mother, with his sister!
I live in strange society, I am very very angry, I am incredibly heart broken. So now my challenge is how do I do what is best? How can I even know what is best? I am on that thin line of trying to decide what is best for him and what it is that I want, and how do I tell the difference.
I haven't told him the judgement. I will talk the lawyer first. All else pales into insignificance, but I have a lived a life of comprimise too much. It has battered me to sacrifice my principles time and time again.
Perhaps it is just a fable that truth and honour win out. Perhaps I am dreaming to think that if I want this enough I can make it happen. How do I tell that it is the best thing? I cannot imagine a journey of 5 minutes 2 times more a month than happens at present would destabilise a child in any way!
But I know this, my desire to be a peace bringer, to be a person of principle, honest, has once more risen and bitten me on the ass.
From now on there are balls to be played and none of them are soft. The truth is like a well cut diamond, beautiful, precious, but multifacited. I will now show the other faces of our truth to whomever will listen and I will shake off the responsibility that this mess is only mine, and I will show I am a good father, I will try not to be motivated by anything other that what is right, but for once in my life, to show the decievers, their commeupance, ..........perhaps that would be loosing focus, but it would give such satisfaction.

A Hungry Feeling

A hungry feeling came over me stealing as my girls were sleeping in the other room.
I spoke with a pal on Skype today and he pointed me towards this.

I understand how foreign it is to you, but listen, at a quiet moment, empty your head of stress, just let the voice and the notes caress you, you will hear my ancestors, my roots, calling me home!

This is a part of why I am different!

PRIDE

This is the good face of pride.



Perhaps this is the lazy good face of pride, I am actually awake!



While I have a lot of irritations in my simple life, they are as nothing when I look at these pictures or think of these moments, or better still, just live them.

Just living the bliss

Okay, so, well, that is it really. Just living the bliss.

Elisa

Elisa My Girl

Will post better quality pictures when I come down from circling around the planets and can think straight.

Elisa

By the time we got to the hospital, which was a 200 meter stroll from our living room to the birthing ward, Lover was already 4cms dialated. I was thrown out for the epidural.
Every twenty minutes our midwife came in a checked, 6cms 8cms 9cms and into action. It was over very fast. A push and already I could see the hair, another push there was a little more hair, another push and Elisa just squeezed out of her Mother and then with a burst of oceans of fluids of yellows reds whites, my daughter spilled her self onto the bed and into the midwifes hands.
It was 1130pm on the 27th Jan 2009 and Boys sister is born. Lover had some slight discomfort but no pain.
This is the calmest birth one could have imagined or hoped for.
Welcome child, and well done Mother.

And Again

Off we go to the Hospital!

20:15

Lover looks tired poor baby, Contractions now every 5 or so minutes. She doesn't want to ring the midwife or go to the hospital. She is anxious they will tell her to stay where she is. For my book 5 minute spaces having had contractions for over 24 hours is travel time.
It's literally 100 meters the other side of the road, but I am not putting pressure on. Just want her to be able to get accross the road.
So she will ring in a few minutes, she is holding on as long as possible.

Harder and Stronger

It's 7pm at night, in the last half hour 3 fairly strong contractions have come.

Update 1730 Jan 27

So, we have been to the Supermarket. I was thinking the walking might stimulate some action.
We went to bed both of us, and slept fitfully.
We had lunch. Plenty of PASTA for the work involved later on.
Walking around, Contraction watching TV, Contraction, snoozing Contraction, Cup of Tea Contraction.
Mid Wife told us to stay Put. I agree.
Baby will come soon but not before sun down. It's slow annoying for Lover. She wants it to Hurry up now. She is feeling a bit schizo, wants to lie down and can't it hurts too much. Wants to be up and about but can't it hurts.
She is doing really really good. It's really slow and really calm. I don't think I will be sleeping tonight.

Progress

So the expression I was looking for in English, was, she has had a show! It's a very old ladies way of saying she bled a little. Water has been dripping....contractions are stronger but still not like I have witnessed before with many women. Well okay 2 or 3!
My 80 year old ex mid wife mother is thrilled. The Italian families are very happy. Contractions are now every 6-8 minutes but not regular not as strong as either of us thought. I am wondering if we should go over to be on the safe side.

Long time

I knew it would take a while. The contractions that started yesterday after noon come in 20 minute intervals sharper and longer each time, there has been some blood as the...... Stopper? I just can't remember the word, has been ejected, and lately just a little fluid loss. It's probably 24 hours now, Lover is exhausted but not sleepy. I am so Sleepy. I don't touch or get in the way, but I check in constantly asking if she is okay. Lunch will soon.
I am sure I will write less and less as it gets more near the time. Something is now telling me 9pm tonight will be important. Already she wants it finished. What can I do only sit and watch and wait and love, and be really thrilled at this miracle happening for us?

Not Yet

Sent back from the hospital, contractions regular 20 mins, but Lover seems more in discomfort than pain. This could be long. She is managing. She is very tired. Noisy neighbours lost our sleep at the weekend and now she hasn't really slept right in about 5 days.....
Will update when there is news or changes.

The Start

It's Started, long slow contractions 10 to 20 minutes apart!

Waiting!

Not quite foottapping.
Not quite scratching.
Not quite agitated.
Not relaxed.
Not calm.
Waiting!

Breast feeding the head scratcher!

I have recently realised that cultures, although close geographically, can be vastly different.
For the foreigner, the stranger, the visitor, these differences may seem wonderous things at times. After all a change is good, almost as good if not even better than a rest. Differences that are celebrated are differences that are enjoyed.

However for the foreigner who installs himself or herself in the culture in question many of these differences, as I have already pointed out result in stress.
The fault of the stress is of course how the stranger chooses to deal or react with the issues of difference.
If the unhealthy choice is made, the result is illness, ill at ease, frustration, tension, resulting often in anger, or confidence being shattered. Trust me on this I speak both from observation and personal experience.

The remedy is to either bugger off back to where one has come from or, find new strategies for dealing with life. After all why would the strategies that served so well in one culture be assumed to be okay in other? It makes no sense that they should.

There are some differences however that are just baffling. They are not so much stress inducing but leave the observer feeling dumbfounded, lost, scratching their head in a complete lack of comprehension. These interactions are often those which result in a person just throwing their hands up in the air and walking away!

Some of the things I am beginning to notice that for me are fundamental differences,and absolute head scratchers, revolve around baby.
Baby is not even born, and I don't think there has been one person who hasn't asked, "...is it a boy or a girl?". I reiterate tirelessly that IT, first and foremost, is a person. IT, I am sure, has no concept of the roles of men and women in this culture or any other, and there for to be branded male or female at this point in time, is a spurious concept. A concept that results in brain washing our young to perpeptuate the inherent, inbred violence we do to one another, in our cultural assigning of roles, just by not thinking.

I am pretty sure that eight years ago in another culture, also branded 'western' but with a nod towards the spiritual that is more evident than here, I was perhaps asked that boy girl question perhaps twice in the 9 months. Everyone here knows the sex of their child long before it is born. I would never want to know.

This however is a small thing. But it leads me to remark on other differences, differences I find hard to celebrate. A friend of ours is 30. She is 7 weeks pregnant. She has already told quite a few people. I have seen this before. It's very unusual to hear at home that someone is pregnant so early on. I guess it's driven by a little caution and a little fear and a little practicality. Too much can go wrong certainly with the first pregnancy, in the first 3 months. So this difference makes me fear for the lady who imparts the information. If nature decides to take a course which doesn't result in a life, then the pain of having to face all those you have informed is harder.

During the conversation breast feeding came up. For those who don't know what that is, it's lactation apparently. France is not big on the boob that is for sure. When it is discussed, medically, in English they use the word lactation. I scratch my head again!
This lady's explanation for not breastfeeding was the breasts are sexual and it was going to be a non starter.
Our mid wife filled us in a week later. Breast feeding is very uncommon in france. In the South, there seems to be a lot of people who have children, don't breast feed, and give the child its own room within a couple of days.
I have seen this happen and put it down to the individual. My personal culture is common sleeping. Everyone in the same bed and let's have a cuddle. I picture it now with boy when he cuddles up, as if we are two tigers or bears in the wild, lots of body contact, reassurance, confidence and love.

I am speechless when I see people who refer to giving the breast as being like a cow. Humans are after all the only mamals who give other mamals milk to their young! Cows don't give their calves human milk.

In this culture here, people are more comfortable to talk about sex, to refer to each other as sexual objects. I often think if it was the USA or even Ireland a lot of folk would be loosing their jobs through sexual harrasement. I am wondering is the awareness of sexuality, or even dare I say it, the forcing of people into sexually defined roles, as opposed to roles defined by gender, affecting how people sexualise childbirth, and child rearing.

I am wondering about the 'break down' in society, where people seem to consider no one except themselves. Respect for your neighbour is at best ignoring them and at worst not giving a damn about them. Could these issues be sourced from a lack of decent boob time when we are young?

I am not saying the problems in society that I witness here, don't exist at home. Of course they do. From what I hear, Ireland has recently become a cesspit of selfishness and racism but it's a relatively new development. I wonder if allowing more children to cuddle up to mother and father, encouraging more women to maintain the role of being a mother, without being sexist about it, giving the breast, hugging, holding.

I am amazed that our midwife, refers to me as English all the time, holds up the English system as an Ideal, when I know nothing about it whatsoever, and persists in asking me questions about it. But that aside from that, she is what I would want for my child, an earthy practical woman, who gives off very down to earth yet sensual aura.

It is certain that women here, in this day and age, don't seem to have the support of their peers, the mothers, grandmothers, sisters, seem to be distant from the individual experience. This she reiterates to us consistently.

The men seem to mainly fulfill a role I associated with the 1950's. Many don't want to be at the birth. It's a womans place they think. I for one can't imagine not being there. I can't imagine my child being in another room and I can't imagine my child not being breast feed given that there is nothing medical preventing it happening. It makes me scratch my head to think otherwise. What I find almost impossible, is that the mother will be kept in hospital 4 days, the child will be kept in a nursery and no siblings under the age of 15 allowed anyhwere near the ward. That is just too inhuman for me. But then maybe I don't have the correct life strategy!

Sunday Afternoon is not always lazy

The Space




The Flat Pack Wardrobe with built in Computer Desk!




And the result was nothing like what I intended but hey, it will do right!






And we only had one little row while doing it!

This goes out to all who have passed by and read. Those who have commented thank you!
So some special mentions and I know I will leave someone out so I am sorry but here goes.
Firstly Gillette Who walks her talk. Whom I admire for her journey, her courage for sticking with it, and seeing it through. And although she is sometimes afraid she gets the hell on with it. I am sure her cooking is amazing and other things that she does too. She is a great woman.

K8, who reminds me what it is like where I come from. Who is a great laugh and takes life by the balls and squeezes.

Krista who is a great artist and photographer, Moni who is just fun, is a great mom, and even though our politics are different we see eye to eye on a lot.

Then two others whom I am not going to link to but they are still in the side bar. Miss T and Miss Monica, both great doers, great sports people, whom I admire and need guidance from.

Happy New Year to all of you who have come to read thank you, and to all who have left a comment, thanks even more.
Have fun! Click on the photo if you can't see it clearly :-)

Looking Forward

Why do I look back over painful times?
Why do I feel preoccupied with me, how I develop, how coherent I am, how hypocritical I am?
I have found for the most part people throw their principals aside if they get enough of anything that they like.
Why is important to be principaled if no one gives a toss anyway?
Well enough of that. I might be responsible for my own difficulties but I am looking forward.
Heads up 2009 here I come.
From now on, it's me who decides.
So a small word of thanks to those who have been reading. To those who have left comments thank you so much. For those who have contacted me outside the blog and checked in and shared, I hope for all of you 2009 will be as good for you as it is going to be for me.

Junior

The wonders of Life and Modern technology. I wonder what the future holds for junior?

Why?

I am wondering about the reason. Yes I am one of those who believe everything happens for a reason, or better still, if you open yourself to it, life will teach you a lot.
Life is definitely teaching me. I am on a curve so steep that an F16 would probably cut and dive half way through. The ironic beauty of this curve is that I have no idea what's at the end. To be honest I have ideas as to the why. Some I can articulate. I believed myself and my ex where embarking on a new start instead of going down the plug hole.
I didn't believe in abandoning my son. I was found by Lover. These are three reasons I why I came stayed and am still here. Luckily now there are more, the 'Expected' will be another reason, the job of course, so I guess there are a handful of reasons as to me being here. A handful of anything is just enough for fun.
It comes down to choice. My choice. So I am responsible for it.
I wasn't believing I was choosing it to be as difficult as it is, but maybe I am responsible for that too. Perhaps I have been sitting here feeling crap since day one, and accepting it. That's all fine and dandy unless a body is willing to do something about it too. I mean like acceptance....yeah it's important, but the getting on with it bit, that is damn important too. So how have I been getting on with it.....well, I did the driving licence. I got the job. But, I didn't kill myself searching for another one. I osmosis-ized rather than learned French. Still I am doing well. I pushed myself to read a book in French, good! I have another I could start and improve, because by golly I still have problems with it.
Like just to day, my phyiso was in a crap mood and told me to head off home if I am struggling so badly here. She was pissed at me and everyone. I have had days like that. So I did the calm talk looking in the eye, telling her hey it's my fault. I didn't manage to articulate the bit about it not being the fault of the French. Perhaps I haven't articulated that at all. I own my struggle do you hear?
I am trying to get to the bottom of it. I just haven't yet managed to blow the fog away to see clearly what it is I am supposed to be looking at. The tough bit is that in owning it, you get to a lonely place. So I should do something about that too.
So the question for the day. I was a writer at one time, it's what I wanted to be. Why am I not now? I mean really why? Only I can answer that question, the good thing is I am running out of excuses.
Santa is coming!

Meziers

I have started a new treatment. It's called Meziers. It's named after a woman.
Basically I get my legs tied up in the air while I lie on a big bed.
A rather small physiotherapist then beats 7 shades of proverbial S*@T out of me while I writhe in agony, and attempt to keep my breathing deep and regular and in synch with the foot lifts and drops...and push my waist down, and my belly out, and my shoulders down and keep my head straight.
I am not sure if it will work, but it will certainly prove I am not faking injury.
The office party is this week.
You have no idea how that sentence just makes me feel like sludge.
Whew!
Weather is unseasonally cold. I am wondering how it is elsewhere. How much longer things have to go on like this?: I mean rescuing the motor industry? Please, we should be forcing them to go electric. There is a car in monaco can go 220kph and it's electric, and uses solar panels and is not at all bad looking.

Expecting

RED TAPE RED MIST

Today is the National Day in Monaco. So we have day off. Well, in theory we have a day off.
We did plan to go to the Town Hall annex, to register that I am the father of the as yet unborn child.
This is not necessary but helps in the event of the birth, within 3 days of which I must go to Maire, ( Town Hall) and register the birth of the child. If I am not there within three days, I will have to go before the Procurer Justice ( is that a word in English? ) to explain why and I will get no social insurance, social assistance, benefit, welfare, or any thing else for the child.
I was fascinated.
We walked into the Maire Annex and they told us 'No Dear you must go to the Maire Proper for that'..... ahem...
As I walked outside I saw a group of people pull up in Van and crush the car beside them that was parked. They were unconcerned.
After some debate I decided it was really just a lot of noise that appart from small scratches, no 'harm' was done.

We drove to my bank first which was about a 15 minute walk. A line of one way streets caused me to turn Right, go forward, turn left, go forward, turn left, go foward, go forward, turn left, go forward, turn left, go foward,to get there at exactly midday. It was closed with no sign of life. The sign on the door said "Ferme 12:00-13:30"

Well let's go to the Maire. We drove, we parked we walked. At the Maire I held open the door for a lady, and about 10 ladies, 4 gentlemen and a man a woman came out the door before I could go in.
I was struck by the wide open space. The panelled walls. The Black and White photo of the current Mayor hung on one wall. It looked about 40 years old but he has only been in power a few months. I thought of Dorian Grey for a moment and then put that thought out of my head. There was no clock in sight. There was a man in front of us, using his local civil servant as his psychiatrist/psycologist all at the same time, but by his jerky actions and from the story he was telling, I was pretty sure his leather coat had been on the other way this morning with the sleeves tied firmly behind his back. He took up a lot of time.
Over his Head was sign for registering births. Beside it on the right was a sign for recognition of the child, that would be us then, and further right was the Livret de Famille or The family book.

The family book is a legal document with registration of Marriage, Children, vaccinations etc;. My ex has it. I don't. It's a legal document that proves you own your own child and is often required for the registration of children in children type activities.

So I took the opportunity while waiting to recognise my as yet unborn second child to ask for a copy of the famous book. But did I have a piece of identity? Yes I did! Did I have proof of where I live? Yes, thanks to the need to go the bank because banking internet is so bad, I did!. Did I know if the act of marriage that happened in Ireland was translated in Nantes? Because if it was the the livret would be blue, if not it would be white. I know nothing about Nantes, well I know our one is blue so that is okay right? Well you see if you are not sure you can go onto the internet, and check at this address if it was translated in Nantes and then go to the Maire Annex not back to the Maire and they would sort it out thank you and good bye. Oh well.

I got up and moved over to recognise the kid, we sat down. The lady was warm and welcoming she looked behind us. Some young man who looked like he had spent the night speeding( I don't mean in a car) and couldn't find anything to get him back down, was looking very agitated. He was agitated when we had arrived 20 minutes previously and the chair was free. Apparently he wanted the same as us, but had just stood agitated for the best part of an hour looking around him. Now that he saw you could sit in an empty chair, some of his best moves of the previous night were beginning to re-emerge in a most jerky like fashion. The guy was like vogue fast forward.

Eventually it was our turn, the first character was still rocking on with his personal civil servant and we got to go back to Jose. Yes her name was her desk. she moved us down two desks, then started to deal with us. I thought of computer networks and wondered what justification in the births deaths and marriages office you could have for having to move seat depending on which thing you wanted to do.
She explained the 3 day rule. She asked about the family of the child. Know that for the moment it is not important but once it is registered then that is the childs legal name for ever and it can never never be changed. so if it's a double barrelled name there will a double hi-fin as well ( does hi-fin take a hifin? ) So if your child is called Murphy McCormack it will be Murphy - - McCormack and it can never never be changed. Cue the spooky music as our baby sets off to Mount Olympus to get his name changed. The nationality of the child will be Irish and it will be Italian because you are Irish sir and Madame is Italian and you won't have a family book because you are not married. But when you are married you will have one and the childs name ( which cannot be changed EVER) will be in that book too.
That made me re-query my earlier discovery and ask again for a copy of the book that exits already. I told Jose I wasn't too good at insisting in French, I told her it was my fault, she went and spoke to her colleague. After some hushed telling off, ( I cringed) we were invited to move seats again. The lady was not happy. I apologised and as she told me it was not a problem I could see both the jury at Cannes and Oscar Guild stand up and applaud.
Finally everything was in order and without any grumpyness and with some genuine good will from everyone we were on our way....
There was birthday class to attend, where apparently the only way to have a baby is to ensure there is no pain and that is achieved by epidural, either 10 mg (perhour?) dose or a dose you administer yourself. That's it no pain, otherwise completely natural.
Then back to the bank. I got the needful done. I asked could I do this needful on the internet, which it says on their site I can, and the girl told me no!. I told her normally I have to take a day off to come here, she told me I could write a letter. Could I send an email? NO!..

So I got to wonder with all the red tape in France a) Do they know how the internet functions? b) Thank God my understanding of it is that it was American Military at the start, and hence it is far more flexible that French law c) is it any wonder I need physiotherapy to help my body relax?

Cultural differences!

Cultural differences even happen at the level of banks.
In Ireland all I ever had to do was ring the bank with the details required.
A standing order would have then been implemented and my ex would get the money no problem.
Here I can't even ring the bank directly. I get put through to a service where they can do nothing.
The internet is not exactly the high speed network. I had to wait a week before I could be accepted, from my existing bank account on line, to perform some transactions they want me to pay for.
Anywhere else this would have been practically instantaneous.
Once they set me up with a new password and the new functionality, I have to wait another week for the functionality to actually function and that is only on the okay of a letter I am supposed to receive soon.
Nothing is fast, everything is red tape, we are forced to go slowly.
The social worker hasn't been to see my ex yet.
My ex hasn't replied about Christmas yet either. I get the feeling she is going to go ape shit when I start insisting on upholding the judgement. It won't be a problem for me. Already the first holidays didn't turn out as they should have but from now on they will.
Am I odd I ask myself to want to have time with my son? I had heard a rumour that at one point my father stayed in relationship with my mam because of me. I have no idea if it is true but it gives me food for thought.
The stereotype of man is one that doesn't fit me well. Come to think of it, the stereotypes that apply to women don't suit me either. I am not one of those guys who goes out with the guys, gets drunks, talks about conquests, fucks and then goes home to wifey. I actually find that type of guy ( if he actually does exist) extremely boring and limited in mental capacity. Yes I get drunk but usually only in good fun company. Let me define drunk here not as in not being able to stand up, Drunk is anything that is not sober, and one glass or two or three is definitely not sober. It's relaxed.
It doesn't help my belly though. I have lost the flat tummy I had when the body issues started. I have started a new treatment that I will write about soon. It's tough, painful, hilarious, and involves my physiotherapist tieing me to the wall and sitting on my arms. Kinky no?

Obama

No one is going to write anything that I can write, and I am not going to write anything that won't be said or felt already.
I understand that in the United States something has changed and for that I am very glad and very relieved, because a lot of killing might stop and certainly a lot of fear will be eased.

So Mr Obama, when you have finished your evolution of the world politic, when you can be no longer elected, and you must retire from presidency, when you have a moment, and when you and I are in the same square kilometer or mile or within touching distance, when you have time, I would like to sit with you a while, eat some food and just hang. Maybe we would have something to say each other. Is that too arrogant of me? I hope not. I have always believed in the power of dialog and the power of Yes. For you and I are People of this world, and therefore agents of change. What would there be not to talk about.

Wishing what you represent for many, to be oh so true.

Being There.

It is not easy being a dad! I know, no one said it was, but all the same it's tough sometimes.

We had our social inquest Saturday.

Right now 'Cold Case' is on TV. The subject is a boy who has been abused and killed, his father found guilty.
Clearly by the end of the Story line the father will be vindicated, and the boy will still be dead. I can't watch.
I have to move away. It makes me feel like I am nut case that I get so moved, so emotional. I just well up and have to move away.

So Saturday morning, a lady about my own age, maybe a few years younger arrived at the house. The moment I saw her I thought,
'Civil Servant', 'child care', 'hippie'. I stereotype with the rest of you. She had dirty blonde (although clean) curly shoulder length hair. She has probably never worn make up and her skin looked like she had smoked too much. She had extremely kind eyes. She wore very short synthetic skirt, horizontal stripes on her black nylons, teddy boy style shoes, and a synthetic hoodie. I could see her rolling smokes in a bar at home with a pint of Guinness in front of her. Salt of the earth.

Once or twice I came up against her complete knowing. She would point out something was or wasn't good for a child. She would somehow demostrate with a shake or nod of the head that her knowledge on that particular point was written in stone, applied to all situations, all children, and only she could be right. She wasn't a bad person. She did her job thouroughly. She asked a lot of questions. Questions about the past, questions about how I met Boy's mother, how he arrived, how we left Ireland, how we split up, how I managed to stay. I tried to be me. I told her what I could but it was heavy emotionally. I didn't want to get into the blame and retribution and I fear that my reluctance will make me loose out in the end. Who knows? Who could possibly know.
She wanted to know how I met Lover. If this baby was an accident too. If someday I was going to do things in the right order... it was said with kindness but the consequences of it could be huge.

I have been amiss in applying the judgement. My ex asked me not to send my son to the day care center that she would look after him when I was at work. I reluctantly agreed and the upshot is, he is not here tonight. He should be but he isn't. He will be here tomorrow. My listening and giving in again has caused only problems. I should have applied it to the letter. I should have insisted. I shouldn't have had to insist. So tonight I did. I told her we have to do what the judge said. This is what the Social woman said. But when she said it she used it as a way of explaining to the child. Funny how it has to be explained to the adults too.

I have posted the first cheque. You would not believe how difficult it is to contact a bank employee and get them to do things with the money I have given them. It will happen in time. But for the moment I can't get a standing order orgainsed. I have already spent the last week trying to do it...not an excuse.

So now what?

So now tomorrow I have to do something I am not comfortable with. I have to contact social woman and explain what has happended this holiday. I already told her perhaps the holiday came too soon after the judgement, there was some emotion around it, we hadn't managed to discuss Christmas yet....my God after last Christmas I am not so positive.

Well there you go. Where am I ? I am fucking sore. I have a trapped nerve in my back to complicate matters. I am getting fixed but it is really slow. I am impatient.

Boy is delighted baby will be here soon. Lover is suffering from a cold almost constantly but in truth, I have seen a lot of pregnant women in my day, this is a piece of cake as far as pregnancies go. I don't mean that in a macho way. But she has been generally energised, there have been no complications, physically she is healthy and strong so why would it not be good. I am very positive.

Once baby arrives, and boy's future is decided, we can buy the apartement, then I can focus on my two dreams apart from raising my children. Iron man and writing my Novel or my movie and either way telling stories....

If I don't read you, or I have not been by your blog in a while, I think of you anyway.

The Big Sweep

So the big clean up is on. Dust is a problem, it is everywhere. We live in a pretty dry place and the dust just blows it's way in and hangs around till it gets either blown out or sucked up.

Due to the nature of the French Socio-legal system we are required to keep paperwork. Lots of paper work, receipts, contracts,agreements,wage slips,more reciepts, letters, invoices, bills,notifications, more receipts,envelopes, copies, duplicates, tax statements, prescriptions, and receipts.

Due to my nature I have papers about music, film, computers, programming, getting fit, receipies,scripts, poetry, artwork, letters, envelopes, receipts(that are not so needed),oh look more sheet music, oh look I remember that song....and I have them everywhere.

Due to the nature of our place, and our lives, along with all this paper that does nothing but invite dust that has already invited itself anyway, and sees the paperwork as an excuse to stay, there are an inordinate amount of books. Books about language, geography, travel, cooking, war, history, strategy, babies, triathlons, yoga, spirituality,novels, romances, pulp fiction, pulp fact even, politics, media,computers, film, more history, and DIY, and they exist in Italian, English French and yes we have one or two in Gaelic.

Due to the fact that some stranger is coming soon, to see are we fit to have my son with us more than the odd weekend, plus, the fact that we really need to get organised, the big clean up is on. No better excuse for stopping for a few minutes and writing up the blog.

Paperwork will now be called paperavoidance. Books will now be called dust gathering recepticles of useful information if you have absolutely nothing else to do with your life and plenty of time to read.

Cleaning up will be called getting dirty, because I had a shower a few hours ago and now even my insides need another one.

Been not gone

Sometimes I drive myself silly trying to think of headlines. All is well. The judgement is in, I saw my lawyer she explained, it has come down more in my favour than his mothers, and time will tell if it really swings my side.
My parents came for a weekend, about 2 weeks ago, so time, space and access to web land was restricted.
It was a challenge but fun. At 80 years of age I am proud of both of them and how they keep it together through thick and thin. Maybe they learned a little about our lives and Lover got to know them a bit better. Boy got spoiled rotten.
He was bad the first weekend, so I explained the judgement and then he was back to his usual self. But he was so bad, I am still in shock from it. Silly me!
I am now offically shattered, better understood by my lover, under pressure and starving. So this is just a note to say hi, I have been but not gone, and I will get my ass in gear for myself and write something worthwhile, noteworthy soon.

NI OUI NI NON

There is a game they play here called Ni Oui ni Non. Niether Yes nor No. You have to answers questions and you are not allowed say yes or no? Do you understand? Ah see I win!
I feel that is what is happening in my desire to have my son more with us.

Today my lawyer called while I was in middle of something important in work.
I had to move quickly outside. I answered, closing my eyes dreading this moment.
I had no idea if I should prepare to jump for joy or to sink to the ground and yet neither response would have been correct anyway.
Even if it was the perfect result the right response would have been perhaps a sage nod of the head, a satisfied smile, maybe a secretly clenched fist of joy. Nothing more than that or it would not have been right.

For the moment my ex has my son, I get to see him every second weekend offically. I stop paying for his Canteen and his schooling and I stop buying him clothes and I pay her 200 euro a month.
In the meantime there will be a social inquest in how Lover and I live in our home. We agreed to that before I had to go to court.
My lawyer explained this is the first step in the Shared parenting. If the result of this inquest is positive then there is no court that can refuse the Shared parenting. So I suppose all in all it's a good result, it could have been worse. There is still light. I am just not able to cut that rope that binds me yet and that honestly irritates the hell out of me. I have a desire for finality.

My body is getting better. I have changed physio's by accident almost. The new physio and I have become friends. The other one was brilliant and so is this one. But this one gives me more. Will strengthen my body. I will be healed soon. I will be back on track.


So I guess the result of today is neither no, nor yes. Change or no change or waiting or slow change. I will know more when I meet my Lawyer soon who will explain the ruling in detail.

But I have had a lot of support from my readers, and for that I am very grateful. So this is the news you have been waiting on. Sorry it's not more conclusive.

Change expected no change

Been to the doctor, not fixed yet, can do some stationary bike and swimming will be soon, absolutely no running.

Tomorrow someone who knows nothing about us, makes a judgement as to if my son and I can legally spend more time together.

My parents arrive tommorow. They are 80. My mother is probably a manic depressive.


I suppose I was going to write that I feel anxious, stressed out my bucking oak tree would be more accurate but perhaps not as nice. . . . .

change and no change...... life is different everyminute and yet we stress over what the next second will bring knowing I can make bugger all difference in the end to what the day brings. I can only deal with what arrives.

Happy Birthday To Me

There you go, 41 today. The life plan is not where I thought it would be. It never is, that's the wonderful side of life. This week is a biggie. My parents arrive on Tuesday. I find out what will happen with Boy the same day. Life will continue either way.
I had some friends over, much less than before. This time instead of wild groups I boiled it down to about 10 and 7 arrived.
My new physio from Romania and her boyfriend. They are just a lovely couple. JN a good guy from work who is dad to two little kids, he is the french me in many ways. We even look a little alike I think.
The italians and the banker and her man who are I suppose long standing friends, came for dinner. We had Pasta with Sepp, Beef in Warriors special sauce, with green beans, individual baked alaska, lots of wine and champagne and I started my day with a good old hangover.
Now the weather is like home....Talk about a month of change... I am smiling.

Hanging Out For The Weekend.

He met me from school and looked really pleased in that timid way he does. We chatted a lot in the car, I noticed how quickly that changes, how quickly he evolves. He asked about the divorce and when it was going to happen. I told him we had seen the judge already, that she was to decide if he got more time with me or as his mam wanted. He was silent. Then 'That's a bit silly really'. I agreed. I explained he was a lucky boy, many kids don't have anyone to care for them and he had two adults fighting over him.'I have 3' he said. 'How? ' 'I have Lover too'. Yes indeed he does. Lucky boy.
Later when he saw her, he was so all over her, her eyes looked at me questioning, her lack of confidence wondering why he was so interested. My tears welled up, I cried. She has yet to really learn to be loved by him and that is okay, and he is just crazy about her, and that is just fine.
We had a good weekend but he was weepy. Sometimes crying for no reason. Wanting me to sit with him when I was cooking dinner. Lover took him through his homework and washed floors and did Ironing, I took him through his games, tidying his room and cooking the dinners, and got him to help cleaning the kitchen. I told him to remember that no matter what happened I won't abondon him, he knows, but there was some weird news item on about kidnapped people so I thought it was a good opportunity to remind him.
We took in a film WALL E or whatever it is called, we all enjoyed it. He was tired and hungry by the time it was over. I teased him a little bit for moaning so much, and he did that laugh and cry that kids do when they are so tired.
Baby is growing well and we all sat with the book and saw the pics and got the measurements.
Sunday I asked him if he wanted to go back to his Mams, 'OH No, I want to stay till tomorow', and that was just the finest thing I heard all weekend.
I am still getting physio but I have much less pain than before, I am still on antibiotics. It's okay this life. We can only hope it works out.
My 80 year old parents come over the day I am due to hear the Judges Decision. I am anxious. We love each other a lot but my mother and I tend to rub each other up the wrong way. But hey she is 80 you can't teach an old dog new tricks. If your dog is pissing on your shoe you need to teach it young that it is not okay.
Honestly I am looking forward to it. My Dad is delighted to be coming , I can hear it in his voice. I am just anxious about their health, about boy and about the future.
All we can do is turn our face to path ahead of us and march onwards.

The Red Palace

I was nervous as hell. I missed the bus. I missed the second and third bus too. I got the one to the tram, the one that does five circles of 4km each to travel just 4 km. Not good for the stress. I borded the tram and Sat with my back to the direction it was going. I realised I was heading backwards through practically every street that had some importance in my five years here. I wondered about it. I remember the flings, the short time friends, the girls I was keen on, the teachers, the rides on my scooter. It all came back. My Arrival, how I had come to this point in time. I thought perhaps it was fitting that on this auspicious day, it was an accident of timing that I should make this journey in this fashion. Would my outlook have been different if I had been facing the other way? Would I have thought that I moving forward into a new future? I don't know but I travelled as I did. I am on a joruney to find out which face life is watching me with, truly believing my son will be better off seeing more of me, knowing I will be better off if this right, which is ours, is bestowed on us by strangers.


Le Palais Rusca is opposite the Palais de Justice in Nice. It is a low red pinkish building. The security is airport like in appearance but ineffective. It crosses my mind if I was a disgruntled citizen it would be fairly simple to run amok and cause damage. Luckily I am not the type.
The floor is laid out in shiny grey squares surrounded by pinkish borders... it's a modern place. The toilet seat is broken. People come and go from the bathroom complaining about no paper. No one notices the 50 or so rolls stacked up against the wall. The place is bustling with people. My ex sees me and comes towards me. I say hi. She says Hi. We can't keep eye contact. She sits beside me and crosses her leg toward me. I wonder if she still has feelings for me, for I don't understand why she is any way near me. She gets up and goes to look around and see what room we are to be in. She comes back to tell me. I am hyper stressed, palms sweating, I don't want to say anything in case I say the wrong thing and make it all worse. What if I make a plea for her to think of boy and what he wants? What if I ask her the point of all this?

My lawyer arrives she is calm, she looks pleased at my appearance. I have taken out the studs in my ear, I am wearing my teaching outfit, pressed shirt, razor crease trousers, shiny shoes. We don't recognise each other now and then we do. She tells me it will be fine. She asks is my ex here, I say yes. She goes to introduce herself and find out if her opposite number is around. Apparently not yet. He arrives late. He sees me and acknowledges me before he knows who I am. I knew who he was straight away, don't ask how, I saw him come in, I saw him walk down the hall, before he saw me I knew him.

My ex goes into a room I wait outside. She is out in no time. I go in. There are two women sitting at a long table. It's a modern office, not what I was expecting. One of the women is thin and grey. I didn't register her face, she was a grey as the computer in front of her her hair glasses, skin, everything blended into the machinery and the formica covered table. The other lady is big. Younger than I she hasn't washed in a few days. She is very heavy she starts talking to me. I am looking for the Judge. I assume he will come in the door over to my right. I sit on the office chairs, they are beige with more pink cushions worn down from how many couples clenching their ass cheeks over the future of their kids?

The big lady is talking....I realise she is the Judge.

She is asking me if I am who am. If I am the guy who married my ex on Jun 29th and that my son Boy born on 13 April 2000 is he as well. I state yes to Boy Born on April 13th. The date of the marriage is wrong, is it a trap? Too late to say anything, there is another question.

Are you in agreement for Divorce? Yes, I reply. I have re made my life, I am going to have a child, my son is delighted to be a brother finally and no longer be alone, we want more time together.........She notes something down. "Are you in agreement for divorce?
" Yes Madame I agree to divorce! "

Why is it your ex epouse who has submitted the petition?"
"Actually I went to see a lawyer who was not efficient in his job. I thought I was doing the right thing telling her. I had to change lawyers. She managed to get her petition in on her terms first." She notes something down.
I am looking at a huge welt of body fat on her arm, I am taking in her dirty hair. I am not struggling at all in French but I am not present to my words or her aura, I can see everything between us, we are the universe.
"Thank you sir you may call in the other people".

I rise and go back to the door behind my left I open it and hold it for the others to come through. Will she see at least I am polite?
There is hesitation, we are supposed to sit in the middle, the lawyers somehow endup being sheppherded by the couple who take the outside chairs.

He starts to talk. Their argument is that it has always been like that. Why should it change now. The fear for the psychology of the child. They don't want his free time activities to suffer. My claim for Alternative minding is a retribution for their demand for 200 euros a month. If I drop my claim over my son and agree to every second weekend and half of school holidays they will drop their demand for money. I start to tear up. I am disgusted. The nervous girl who I met in the hall way, now has a cast of hate and determination to her face. They would stoop so low those who know so little of the love between a father and son. I am more than disgusted and the last vestiges of affection fall away like dried moth wings at sunrise through the open window.

She starts to talk. She is nervous, she looses her train of thought, she mentions boy, the age of reason, why I waited till now, it's all a crock but it might work, she mentions we live in a expensive area purposely to be very close to him. It's true, that's why we pay more than we should and we live 3km away from his house 5km from his school. So I could be close to him. His name again. The fact I am willing even with the shared care to still contribute to pay for his schooling. How could I not do that?

There is more to say I am too nervous. It's too late, it's done. The deliberation will be give on September 23rd the day my parents arrive. 2 days after my birthday. I sign blindly without reading the divorce agreement. My lawyer signed it before me. She hands it to her right, ( I am on her left) Her lawyer signs it, I see his signature even though he is two people away from me. He writes with a carefully meditated flourish, too carefull that spoils the flourish effect. She signs it.

I notice all he has said to me is hello nothing else.

I notice Virginie my lawyer took the time out to be civil.

I notice the Judge knows none of this.

We are dismissed. I am the only one to voice thank you, and immediately I wonder,would that small thing make a difference.

I am shook.

There is a sea of people outside the door. I can't see Virginie my lawyer. I wait till my ex and her lawyer go. Virginie is there in front of me. She beckons to me as a mother to a lost boy, we walk down the hall, I see my ex outside her law guy talking to her. Now as I write I wonder was he angry? I don't know why that would be? Maybe I am clutching at straws. I didn't think it at the time.

Virgine is nervous, 'Look it won't be any worse than what you have now, at least you will know what days you are going to get your son and that can't be changed' This is true. 'Go have a drink'.... I laugh , one? We make eye contact. What was that I ask? I am disgusted. That was disgraceful they tried to buy me off for 200 euros. She shakes her head, no that wont work it's why I didn't even ask you. Go and relax.....I put my hand on her knee, 'You are coming to eat in my house when this over I tell her! She laughs. I think this person is genuine and I know it means absolutely nothing.

I walk off in a daze. I know she is behind me somewhere, is she trying to reach out? Or is she trying to burn holes in my spine with her lazer vision?

The bar is not open till 12 and anyway I know no one there now. I have no friends there to talk to. I go to the Grain de Cafe on Felix Faure. This place that has been a constant for me. The men kiss me in greeting and they have no idea how grateful I have been to them down the years for their humanity. Coffe and pain au chocolate. I write some notes for myself and for boy. For the future.

I call a few people, I get a few calls. I update people. I am destroyed. I feel like I have been hit by a truck. I can't sleep I am too exhausted. Lover finally comes home I tell her about my day, I am very calm but so destroyed. I find it difficult to concentrate on her news. I apologise and she understands. She knows the Red Palace, she has been there herself. She has lived through this.

Now as I write I am emotional. My future relationship with my son lies in the hands of a woman who is younger than I. Fatter than I. Greasier than I. More Qualified that I in a educational sense. I have to have faith in this person and this is a challenge. All 5 of us in that room, because my son was there in spirit, All 5 of us in front of her are complete strangers. What will she base her decision on. Papers with figures, appearances? Finances? Manners? A strange name of a lovely boy whom she will never meet? What is this thing we call Justice? How have we allowed ourselves to evolve to this moment in time?

The Red Palace, is red, Is it for the blood spilled or the love broken, or do they even know the cruel mockery of it's heart when they send the ex lovers, the parents of those conceived in passion who separate in anger, who fight cruel games through priveledged educated white kids, over the future of their own fragile children whose interests and desires should be our only focus?
The Red Palace, no matter the result in the month of ripening fruit, will live in my soul till my days are over. I need to let its colour be a positive sign of things finally bearing fruit. Of change that comes perennially in September.

A life changing moment

So tomorrow I stand before my ex, and a Judge and lawyers.
I should find out if I get to have my son, who lives 3.5 minutes away from us, who is delighted to be a brother soon, who follows me everywhere when he is here as if I am going to dissappear out his life, with me more often than every 1st 3rd and 5th weekend of our lives. No matter how it turns out, it will change our lives because at least something will be written in law and no longer at the whim of his Mammy. Et Voila!
Wish us luck!
I just hope her lawyer father wasn't able to pull strings he should be keeping his hands off anyway.

Hello September

It's not like me to leave it so long. So hello September, the month where my life changes. It's easy. It's my birthday month, it was Autumn at home, things coming to fruition, leaves turning and long cold sleep setting in soon, September is the preparing for bed of the year where I come from. Here its still late evening.

I have been sick as a dog. I have had my best friend visiting. I am very lucky that Lover and she get on so well.




To all you perverts out there, she is a friend. That is it. I put great store in my friends. I have two life long friends, she and He. They get to see me as often as possible as besides, it's nice to have pal who lives in nice place.

I have spent great time with Boy. Lover is doing very well and baby is starting to kick so all is good there. Everytime Boy is here he is kissing the belly, feeling for movement. Everytime he is on the phone he wants to know how big Lovers Belly is and how many pumpkins it is. He is really excited to be a brother finally.
I have been in touch with my lawyer. I am very anxious. The other side as she calls them, the opposition, the other party, are maintaining Boy is traumatised by the birth. They maintain that the reason not to have shared custody is because we never had it.
They maintain that the expenses paid by my son's grandfather are paid by his mother. The truth of it is, even though she has given up her job (apparently) and Boy says she hasn't, that she is still working but from home, she still has more income than I, and doesn't understand the Judge won't award her money for herself. It's all about boy.
I wonder what they would have done had I put in claim for being thrown out on the street in a foreign country with no contacts or assistance?
Anyway that is probably the bitterness rising. It's difficult to stay calm. I hope for his sake that they will sense but I know they won't. The are not intelligent enough and they have been nothing but dishonest.
Perhaps it's good for me to vent but perhaps I am saying too much here in this public space. While I don't always manage, honesty and honour are two of my principles. I understand I live in a world where those two principles are not worth the paper they are written on but I would still like to have a world where giving your word means something. I gave my word to my son. I gave my word to myself. I gave it to my Lover. Hell I even gave my word to my ex. Now I have to careful that I don't allow myself to get trodden into the mud.

Maybe this is why I have not blogged in so long. So apart from being sick...is it the stress? I have been trying to have a great time. here are some shots of places and things and peeps :-)





But of course, I had to show you all this one too.

The Return

He is back and damn I am relaxed.
Apart from the viral infection I have just picked up.
Boy has come home to tell me he almost broke his hand running with the dogs, by smacking it hard against the wall when they jumped on him. Oh apparently his leg is scarred from the same incident, ( don't ask). He has a knot in his back because he fell down a staircase in a bar.....( sorry but from an 8 year old that is just too crazy). No medical checks nothing but not much of a sun tan either because his mother is careful about that.( excuse the note of sarcasm).
So Georgia got pissed off with Russia cutting off it's gas and telling it's smaller states to break free and Russia belched, George farted and world war 3 was averted by erm ............................are we allowed say French to American readers?
It's going to take two months for me to heal. Horaaay, I will actually heal! Then I am going on a get in shape program with a fitness doctor, a dietician and a physiotherapist, it's going to cost a bit but damn it's an investment.


The apartment buy is no more. We dropped the idea. I couldn't get my ex to sign a piece of paper saying she would go for half of it. We have not being together for 4 years, what is the point?

My best friend is coming over on Saturday for a week. Yippeee.

I have a ton of shit to write about, and a ton of photos to post but I just don't get around to it, it drives me mad.


So here is one for you :-)


The bump is much bigger now and all 3 of us are really pleased.

I am Grateful for

I have a friend who has tagged me to do a meme. These are peculiar things but she has asked what do I feel grateful for.

My Son
My Lover
OUR pending child
My health ( whatever state it is in)
My intelligence
My family
My Friends
My lifelong friends ( both of them)
My joy
My ability to make people laugh
My perceptiveness
Fruit
Blossom
Laughter
Tears
My Lover
My Son

and my friend who tagged me :-)

I am certain there a whole bunch of things I haven't thought about.

What to tell you.

Okay ........it's hot. I am trying to write a play for a friend. God it's hot. 30+ in the shade 40 + in the light. Twenty minutes in the sun means sunburn. My personal own body good news is I swam yesterday and today.
I aggravated the tendonitis in my left ankle but hey it was good for my back.
I also found out the Doc who is dealing with me is looking for an Iron Man volunteer. How crazy dropped in your lap is that?
It's hot. Next week I see the Physio only once, because the planning is screwed up. I had asked repeatedly for it to be planned up weeks in advice and finally when they get around to it there is no space.
I see the Podolog though, that should be fun. He wants me to go out for some beers.
I did a really silly meme on email that I got from a very dear friend and to tell you the gods honest truth I was stunned the amount of people who replied.
It's too hot to think. I was going to tell you all about how we finally conceived baby but I haven't checked in with Lover if she is okay with that.
Boy is still away, god it's hard. He won't be back for another 3 weeks.
My Lawyer has dissappeared but I guess she is on Holiday. bummer for me and great for her.
My running pals are now running half marathons regularly which really bums me because it means I will have no running friends when I am fit again.
But you know what. I am warm, we have a baby on the way, work bores the living shite out of me, I am a good dad, I am going to get fit and I have some very funny posts to tell you about. I just have to write them. Suffice to say Ar Lá has Tiochfaided and Chuaighed and all is well in the Castle of Warrior in Middle earth. ( only because I can't be arsed complaining). OH I am so not watching the Olympics, then all the advertisers will loose loads of money cause no one is watching and the evil empire will loose loads of money, and perhaps they might not have as much to spend on displacing people to build stadiums for drugged up dickheads with nothing better to spend their money on than watch dedicated athletes swallow their principals because we tell them too. Ha I knew I had a rant in me somewhere. Don't Tune in Drop out.

Expecting

My doctor asked me last week if there was a lot of stress in my life. I laughed. I told him the fact that I am alive in the South of France means I am stressed. I struggle a lot more than I should. I still feel completely out of water. I have heard that in the land of the blind the one eyed man is King. However for me that position must be one of desperation. How do you tell what you see to a community who have never seen? King? Outcast more likely.

I question am I being overly negative here and I hope I am not. I am, I think being very realistic. Given my daily frustrations with communication, with being precise, the lack of sport has served to multiply the stress a number of times. I told my doctor this. He asked me was there anything specific going on. I reeled off the list.
My divorce is happening too slowly and I am afraid I won't get to see my son enough. Some judge will look at what I earn, at what his mother earns and demand I give her money. He won't care she doesn't pay rent, he won't care that I have to have exactly the same items in my place as she has in her place, and therefore the financial cost is the same, he won't care she doesn't teach him to wash his teeth or how to use his knife and fork. I won't be able to commuincate adequately either with my lawyer or the judge.
We are trying to buy an appartement, the bank won't give us a loan unless my ex signs a bit of paper that she is not going to try and take a part of the appartment. I have asked her would she sign that paper and got no reply.
My lawyer is apparently on holidays so there is no advice coming in there.

We are expecting a baby. Lover is now starting her 4th month and we are very happy. Boy is delighted and really really curious. I have checked with him many times how it would be to have a sister or brother and he is just so thrilled. He feels alone in a world of adults with his mother. He feels it here too I am sure. I have told him that when he is back from holidays we have to organise that some of his friends can come and visit.

So the doctor smiled, I seem to be very amusing for the medical brigade down here. Perhaps it is my sarcasm or dry humour but I don't think they get to laugh a lot.

So I am back on the pain killers and the muscle relaxants. Lover seems to have a lot more energy than before and is really sweet and pleasing to be around. It is a welcome and timely change.

MY groin strain is easing up, My balls don't feel like they are exploding any more, just a little too stretched. My shoulder and upper arm are locking, my hip is locking...my physio went on holidays and his replacement seems a little run off her feet, and I am her last patient of the day...the work is hurried rushed and not as good.

I am changing appointments back to the morning to see what happens. There is another physio next week and it will be interesting to see how or what she does with me.

I have just another twenty sessions to go...........I must keep stretching but it's not so easy with a groin strain. Ah time for a pain killer I think.... if I come out the other side of this healthy there is nothing going to stop me doing my Iron Man.

Around the baby all we are able to think about are girls names, so previous experience tells me it's a girl. Boy is already trying to come up with names. Lover is very very happy and that is good.