Frog Soup

It’s maybe a cliché to say that some good comes of everything …. but clichés are only clichés because they are true.

Our long and laborious stint of helping out our neighbour who is ill and has been abandoned has had some surprising results.

The French family that owns the house that she rented assumed that we were old friends of the English woman - because normally no one would put themselves out for complete strangers. When I went around to check out the house once it was empty, I put her right - no, we had never met her before, she wasn’t an old friend, we had just helped her out because she was in difficulties.

So today, we are sat out in the garden, sipping our coffee and admiring our flowers and the landlady walks past - she greets us like long lost mates. We exchange the usual pleasantries about how nice the weather is, how she likes the sun, how I can’t sit out in it because I am fair-skinned (usual French joke about roast beef) and she goes off wishing us a nice day.

So there we go - our standing in the community is up and that can only be to the good. Maybe all that hard work wasn’t wasted?

I had a nasty accident on my motorbike, Tonto, a couple of years ago. Since then I have found every excuse under the sun NOT to get back on.

My psychiatrist - truly wonderful chap - suggested that I was developing phobias not only about going back to work but also about riding my bike.

So today I took the bike out. It felt wonderful. I am sure my confidence will come back quick time. Hooray!

The French system is horribly complex. I have had to go through a lot of hoops to get to go back to work part time and get part of my salary paid by the Social Security. So on Tuesday I went to see yet another official doctor to tell her my story and get her to arrange things so that my employers don’t try to screw me into the ground again.

Heard today from the doctor I saw on Tuesday. She moves quickly that woman! She’s been in touch with my shrink, my employers and got all my conditions worked out for me to go back on 1st July.

So now seems a good time to sit here and think about what I have learned from the last year during my absence from work. No experience, however horrible, is wasted if you learn from it, so I hope I have noticed the lessons thrown at me in the last 12 months.

I’ve learned to take things slowly - multi tasking isn’t always a skill, it can be a symptom of panic mode. The Buddhist concept of doing things mindfully is a good idea - hang the washing out mindfully, fully appreciating the slight breeze on your face, the feel of the damp clothes on your fingers, the pleasing symetry of something hung well.

Me time isn’t selfish - it’s essential. Whether it is a solitary walk, a hot bath, reading a trashy book that appeals to you anyway, riding your bike around the block like a kid or phoning your best friend for twenty minutes just to hear their voice, because emails don’t do it properly …. it’s the little things that are valuable.

Saying “I can’t do this” is not a failure, it is a sign of strength and confidence. What I was doing before was accepting every task given to me, no matter how unreasonable, because I had to prove that I was the best. That is a form of insecurity and weakness. Learning to say No is hard, especially when everyone thinks you are the good old dependable “always says yes” person - but you are not thought any more highly of for it - almost the opposite.

GPs are not specialists. They are called General practitioners for a reason. So if ever I think my GP is not giving me the right diagnosis or treatment again, I will ask to see a specialist. Both the social security doctor and the official doctor in Dijon told me this. I will learn. I had too much faith and swallowed everything given to me both literally and metaphorically - no more.

Time given to one is to be used. When I came out of my drug-induced zombie stage, I taught myself to make clothes. I had the time. When I go back to work, if I have time on my hands I will go down into town and see an exhibition or visit an art gallery, not sit in the Teachers’ Room twiddling my thumbs.

Work and home life are different and both valuable but they will be kept separate. Now, when I close the office door behind me, the work will stay shut in there. No more spending whole weekends doing lesson plans or research. No more being too tired to appreciate the countryside around me, or go out with the dogs.

Being at home all this time has made me really go deeper into the beautiful place where I live, get to know the plants, flowers, animals and birds here. That will be the spur for me to not get too caught up in my work. I still want to come home to commune with the Spirit of the Land - it is through that I re-charge my spiritual batteries.

Thus have I learned.

I only ask because I have been away. I abandoned the Old Feller and the hounds for a fortnight to go and visit my wonderful and mad Aunt M in Scotland for the first week and then flew south to see the Dalai Lama in London and stay with my stepson and his girlfriend.

Going back to Scotland was fantastic. It is always good to go home to the family and Aunt M always organises fascinating trips out - talks, tours, walks, you name it. This time we had a guided tour around Glasgow Green which is gigantic park. The two guides were really up on the history of the place and two hours shot by. They do it voluntarily and wouldn’t even take a tip. So we wrote very enthusiastic letters to their boss in the hope they’d get a pay rise.

The Dalai Lama was spell-binding. I have never before been in front of a human being who radiates good will. He is a remarkably plain and simple person - his message is easy to understand, he didn’t mention China apart from once and he giggles a lot. I could have stayed there all day, as could the other two thousand people in the Albert Hall.

But it is good to be home. I love going visiting. I adore my Aunt M and the rest of my family but I miss my little village under the mountains, my dogs, my garden …. and sometimes the Old Feller!

Himself having been taken up yet again with helping out with neighbours, the garden had gone rampant. So as soon as I was unpacked and rested and the rain had stopped (took a while) I got out and did some very hard work on large concrete tubs. Planted some more summer flower seeds - we are going to have a brilliant show this year.

The wild rose hedge we planted three years ago has finally come into its own and is making a superb display. The cultivated roses seem to be spurred on to compete because they too are flowering fit to bust … or maybe it is just the immense amount of rain and warmth we have had.

Having gone through the usual rigmarole with the Old Feller when he was away ……. on the telephone, me going “Telly don’t work” Him going “Press this, do that, what have you done to it?” What have I done to it? Bloody thing just stopped working, that’s all.

Well having gone through all that he got home, jiggled it around, eyed the four inch thick layer of dust on the screen (no, I cleaned it yesterday) and diagnosed an excess of static. He obviously thought he knew what was causing this because today he hoiked it off and opened it up and used the compressor to blow clean the muck out of it. Well it worked for about half an hour - lovely picture, nice and clear ……… then it went blank again. Just as if it were switched off but with the sound coming through fine.

So finally I feel vindicated - it wasn’t me. I am not a silly cow. Nothing to do with anything I have done. The blasted thing is buggered. I only feel slightly good about this because the cheapest replacement will cost 250€ or £200 at the current exorbitant exchange rate.

Ho hum - back to the good old faithful tiny telly we normally carry about in the caravan which has been with us for over 14 years and seems more reliable than a modern one. Only problem being you have to sit about two feet away from it to see the picture.

Vindicated but squinting would just about sum it up.

Pretty tired now.   Friday started at 4 am when we got up to get D-I-L to the railway station.  The rest of the day passed in shifting rubbish.  Saturday the same.  Sunday morning …….. last lot of gear from the rented house as the neighbours had left, cleaned out the fridge and freezer, collected our firewood back which we had loaned them when they were out of it …. collapsed exhausted.

The house looked like a bombsite!  We are not unnaturally house-proud but even I was ashamed of it.  We’ve now managed to get it back to some semblance of order.

Yesterday we managed to get out in the garden and do a bit of work out there (it having been totally neglected for weeks due to bad weather and being busy) so that was good.  Also  went and sat with some of the old ladies on the village bench to while away a half hour and put the world to rights, catch up on the village gossip etc.  Always a real treat.

Now I am sorting through the nick-knacks that were too good to be thrown away and assess if it is worth taking a stall at the bric a brac fair in July - do I have enough to justify renting a space?  Will it be worth it?  No point spending 50 euros renting a space if I am only going to sell 60 euros worth of stuff.  And get the privilege of standing outside all day.

Life has been rather roller coaster since the Old Feller got back on Tuesday evening.

The new dog, Lilly, a little cross bred black and white bitch of nine months is totally adorable and walked in here and felt right at home immediately -she chased Titch around with her teeth bared, thus establishing she wasn’t taking any bollocks off anybody and then got on with just being here.  Her mum says she thinks she has died and gone to doggie heaven.

So we have beloved d -i-l here and in the middle of that (I see her precious little as it is so value my time with her) we have to play Steptoe and Son for neighbours.

Furniture removed from rented house to holiday chalet which is for sale.

Junk cleared out of holidays house.

Junk to be sorted through into three categories a) we want it b) goes to the catholic charity that distributes to the needy or c) go directly to recycling dump, not worth anything at all.

All three of us did that yesterday.  This morning we had to be up at 4am to get d-i-l to station and we’ll be doing junk clearing again today.  Saturday we will be doing the same a, b, c exercise on the rented house in preparation for the professional removers coming in and packing her back to the UK.

So far we have got a gas cooker, two bicycles, two portaloos and various useful odds and sods out of the exercise but boy oh boy we are working for it.

Today is the day - the Old Feller, my beloved daughter in law, the new dog and my new second hand car are all arriving back home this evening.

So after a quick trip to town, to do some business at the bank, I will be cooking and baking (on with the apron and the Mum persona) so that the house is full of welcoming smells when they walk in.

I’ll get the caravan sorted for her (I’ve had the bedding airing in the kitchen for days so it is nice and comfy), poke about with the portapotty (yerk) and put some green tea in there.

It will be nice to have some company again.  I’ve got through my solitude time quite well but it will be good to have them home - just a shame that she can’t stay more than a couple of days.

Isn’t it amazing how one little thing can really get to one?  A small alteration in one’s life can bring into focus the inadequacies you have been living with all your days but not noticed them?

The telly decided to give me sound but no picture the morning after the Old Feller went off.  I got instructions from him over the phone, pressed the buttons, the picture came back for 30 seconds and then faded away.  I am of the opinion that the telly set is buggered.

I don’t mind - not  in the way of missing the telly.  I prefer  Radio 4 most of the time and I spent years without a TV.  Very often I will turn it off because there is nothing worth watching - but it irks me that there is a major failure in the house and I can’t fix it.  I can keep the woodstove going, I can manage all the day to day operations but I can’t fix the telly, the central heating unit or any other of the new fangled technology with which the house is filled if they choose to go on strike.

It makes me feel inadequate.  And pissed off.

So the Old Feller and I went to bed at 6.30pm.  I took half a sleeping pill ( my max. dose) and went out like a light, just to wake up at 9pm and find myself unable to go back to sleep.  Crept about the house trying not to make any noise at all.  Nearly went cross eyed doing a spot of cross-stitch in inadequate light.  Had a mug of Horlicks, read a bit more …. went to sleep about 11 and the alarm went of at 12.

Got the Old Feller packed off in the van which we have been loading up between us for two days (sore back, legs, shoulders) ensured that he had enough food for a five day trek across the Sahara (he’s only going to Boulogne - 7 hours drive away) , waved him off and watched a bit of interesting Open University - amazing what you can learn about at 2 am.

So I have the boys to myself for a few days - I am going to go on a bit of a training exercise - the Bingergread Cottage becomes Dog Borstal, I am Mick(aela) Martin and they are going to get out of some of the bad habits that Himself has allowed them to get into.

No getting on the bed unless I say so.  No play fighting and rough-n-tumble.  No screaming in the car.  No shouting hello at other dogs or hurling abuse at cats as we drive by …. does this constitute a "drive-by shouting’?  No more begging with menaces at the table … the menace is being drowned in dribble if you don’t give them bits.

And I can get on with a load of sewing in peace.

I’ll probably still be nipping around the corner to help out our friends, but this is my time.  Well, mine and the boys.