Chasing my tail


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Dear Blog,

This is what I do, every, single day:


Now, the week that has been, involved :….- or should it be – Things we now know that we didnt (want to) know last week?

-little sleep. Such little sleep that my logical (?) brain decided that ‘surely we are under attack from a bad spell/demons/ evil spirits?’ Yep – it has got to that level. I know this is clearly madness (but entre nous, I asked Archangel Michael to come and clear ‘them’ out of the house anyway).

-Archangel Michael, in cleansing the house of evil, sleep eating monsters, somehow managed to sieve the kids out the mixture and they, the kids, remain (cleansed?)….. And remain the main cause of the lack of sleep.

-the Prodigal has upped his level of anti-parent, unacceptable behaviour and is literally reaching for the skies (not quite reaching Angel Michael).
We are now 3/4 of a very large, very good armagnac bottle less than we were a week ago. To think that he mixed this with apple juice must have made all previous dwellers of this ancient house, slap bang in the centre of armagnac world, groan (and rise up to keep me awake).
This bottle had been bought as a Christmas present for my father in law…. I hope that he isn’t too thirsty.

-snip snap? Not for the Prodigal. A hairdresser without scissors, is like a …. Very useless person. Not just one pair of fabulously expensive scissors but two!
‘And do you know what? A funny thing happened and you wont believe it’
‘You’re right there, Prodigal.’
‘The salon got broken into the ONE time I left my stuff there.’
‘Well, what do you know…? We don’t believe it.’

-the Prodigal (yep, still on this theme) has gone to England for the weekend. He has gone for the sole purpose of accompanying, erm..escorting his girlfriend to her prom (the Prom, which to her, is the single most important event to ever happen…. until she goes with my son and then there’ll be numerous spin off BIG events). The Possibilities OF Shit Hitting The Fan and spreading infinitely far are eeendleeeessss.
I don’t (currently) have an English Brief but I think I might start researching:
‘Ok, Google, Uk. Search for: ‘most successful defence lawyer of absolutely, for sure, definite to lose, cases.’

The Face went skiing for the day.
I got up at 6.30 to get him to school.
As I had another 160km to drive that day (demons children to various things), I stopped the car, 300m away from the school door for a quick turnaround:
‘What? Have you forgotten where my school is?’
As I shoved him out of the car and wheel span off – that moment? Well, it was the best part of the day.

Ok, as we (me and THEM are in the unheated Big Room, in February), Im signing over and out and shall post this unedited (again) and wonder.



Domestic bliss

Good afternoon/Bonjour/Hi/Hey/G’day, dearest blog,


The clanging of plates as they are placed on the table.

The clank of cutlery, counted out into 6 forks and 6 knives and one small knife and small fork.

The slapping down of two boards onto the table so that hot dishes can be placed on them.

The burble of sound from the radio. The high-pitched noise from an online game. Sounds from the tv in the playroom.

The steaming dishes of food are moved to the table and 

‘DINNER!!!!!!!!!!!’ is shouted.

Footsteps along the passageway; sock clad feet running from the playroom; the swish of too long jeans, sweeping along the floor all the dog fur, bits of food and plaster (yes, the kitchen is FINALLY being attacked. See blog 4 (possibly)). Chairs pulled out. The table wobbles as three little people, climb up into their chairs. 

The door creaks as it opens.

In walks the FAce after arriving home from the school bus.

‘I don’t think I’ll have dinner. I just did a poo that was so big I didnt’ think it was going to flush away.  It made the water level go REALLY high.’

I look at the Husband, who picks up his glass and takes a long, very long drink.  I look at the kids with sausages on their plate and hope ‘did they hear? Will that comment give them visuals that will put them off their dinner?’

I look at the Face, a serving spoon in my hand and say:

‘Hello Mum. Hello the Face. How was your day, Mum? Fine, thanks Face. How was your day, Face? ‘

He looked at me. Mentioned the size of his poo again and left the room.

The prodigal sniggers. His sniggering obviously caused a very slight problem with the wiring in his brain, as he then said:

‘Isn’t it me and the Face’s turn to do the kitchen?’

Immediately, he tried to take it back. But it was TOO late.

We ate our dinner, all the time wondering if the Monster in the downstairs toilet was slowly maneuvering (not sure that one is spelled right) it’s way out of the pipe, through the door, increasing in size and power………..

The prodigal reluctantly got the FAce who was distressed to find that a)we weren’t that interested in his poo story b)he hadn’t even had any dinner c)he had to clear up after those who had.


‘sh-utttt UP! You shut up! Shut up, YOU!’

‘I hope that you aren’t telling ME to shut up?’

A sideways glance and the tiniest upturn of one corner of his mouth:

‘SHUT -UPPPPPPPPPPPP…………………………………’ a pause, I frown, he grins   ‘……….SPIDER!’

‘git’ I mumble. He silently marks down that word for use in the future.


The Prodigal

‘so if you die, me and the Face, don’t get anything?’

time check: 8.08 a.m.

Place: on narrow back roads, 10 mins into my 1 hour plus trip and two minutes before the alarm that I’m on my reserve amount of petrol starts sounding.


The Professor

As I wander into the kitchen at 7 a.m. this morning, bang into the oven, place the kettle on the stove and whilst waiting for it to start singing, I feel like I’m being watched and watched closely.

I turn around to be met with the RED laser of a nerf gun aimed right between my (unplucked) eyebrows.

‘I won’t shoot. I’ve been up since 6. I found Nerf War games on YouTube. I’ve been watching them for ages.’

I’m too tired to comprehend that he could have accidentally pulled up all sorts of horrors on Youtube. Could have been worse……hang on…it WILL be worse because just as soon as the Lips can spell, he WILL be pulling up all sorts of horrors on youtube and exhibiting them to his more sensitive and also younger brothers.

The Husband

Is off to Paris next week. Remember what happened last time? Be sure to log on to read about what happens when he comes back (IF…….. note – make sure he leaves the cheque book behind).



I shall leave you with this line from Sammy Davis jnr:

Alcohol gives you infinite patience for stupidity.

Au revoir, Blog.



Blog 2 of 2014


Yes, I know that I only blogged the other day but as I’ve set up an alarm to remind myself to do this more often……here i am!


guess what?

bang on time,

Fatty, who has been doing something (sticking forks into plug sockets, chewing on an old nicorette gum he found lying around, testing the edge of the rusty saw) quietly for 10 mins, has come out, seen me in front of a lap top and is now hanging off me with his incessant ‘my legs are tired, my legs are tired, my legs are tired, my legs are tired, mylegsareTIRED…’


Ok, so he has left.

I now fully understand why I can never, ever remember my own mother ever, ever, EVER sitting down (depositor of 8 kids onto this planet).

She knew, only too well, that if you sit down, the Human Climbing Frame is open for (small, smelly, grimy…….is that grimey or grimy? Demention:1, Memory:0) visitors.

It’s all Dutch to me

So Francois Hollande, the President of France – what is his game?

Described by a U.S. newsreader as ‘having about as much charisma as unbuttered toast.,’ has managed to find someone who maybe (surely not?) likes seeing him in his underpants…….. This thought distresses me….and out of them….. But the facts or rumours are there; he has not denied them; he has not rushed to the side of his current girlfriend, Valerie (stretching the meaning of girl to its limits) who has collasped under the SHOCK AND HORROR of learning, only last week (yes, only last week despite the fact that he tried to sue a magazine last summer for suggesting that he was having an affair and despite the fact that heart broken Val is a JOURNALIST) that he has found someone (visiually and mentally impaired) who shares the attraction she had for him. Hospitalized no less.

So, Valerie didn’t know?

Hollande believed that no one would find out or rather, no paper would print this story?

I say to that: n’importe quoi! Or plain old nonsense to you and moi.

This is staged; this is planned – all of it. The only angle I can understand is that THEY (whoever the powers are behind Hollande as he has none) have decided that it might make a positive impact on his ratings as President whilst taking the lumiere off the fact that Hollande has moved (RIGHT……literally and politically) away from his socialist views to suggest that perhaps the State should stop babysitting the French people (erm….that;s not exactly what he said but you get the idea?) because France, funnily enough, cannot afford to do it any more.

That’s all from me and from him:

Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.
Charlie Chaplin

Bonne Annee? – first blog of 2014

Dear Blog,

Happy New Year?

I don’t know about you, but I am struggling this year…..the all what? two weeks of it.

I feel laden. Heavy under the weight of what? Life? the family? the pile of washing? broken new year’s resolutions (erm…..pelvic floor exercises and learn one more swear word in French – the new swear word that I will scream when, after NOT doing my pelvic floor exercises, my womb slips out at the supermarket check out)? the incessant demands of SuperGit (previously known as Fatty)? the unfinished and not soon to be finished house(s)? the fact that the kids need to be fed decent food at what seems every minute of every waking hour (note:check their bums tonight for worms)? the irresponsibility of the Prodigal to the point that I have to insist he goes back into the bathroom each work morning with the instruction to wash his body with soap and not just throw water onto bare shoulders to ‘trick me’ into thinking he has had a shower – a ploy he has been using (and the Face) since he was about 11? In fact, I feel laden and heavy from being inside my own head. I’m boring myself with my constant (internal) moaning. Jesus. I wish I’d just SHUT UP!

Right, so a quick look at the past two weeks:

1.NYE – a nun, Super Dupont (the french superhero who can laser gonorrhea, carries his own wine and a baguette), a funkster, Elvis, Dracula and a cow, headed out for the night. We were met by a sheik and a lady dressed for a masked ball. Also present were a (poor) bunny girl (guy) and a rather knackered looking pirate. Mix these types up with a load of alcohol and you’ll likely to make a nice amount of FUN………until the dawn arrives and a looooooong, difficult day with children hangs-over (you see what i did there?) your achey head.

2.I made the best cake I’ve ever made. It was the complete opposite to my usual FAILS.  

3. The visiting puppy jumped up and clawed away and ate half of my best cake that I ever made, 1 minute before her owners turned up to reclaim her. The bump on the dog’s head still remains unexplained. Fatty was mumbling about hitting the dog with a wooden sword…..perhaps…

4. Having a play room out of action for 10 days. This is bad. This means I have to sit down and entertain the FAtty all day every day.

5. Re-aquainting myself with driving a manual ickle car. First try resulted in me rolling back into the car behind as I couldnt get the blardey gear into first and the Prodigal getting out to push me forward again. There was a witness but we’ve warned him not to say a word……or else.

6. The prodigal unravelling on Sunday night and throughout Monday. He also unravelled my sense of humor, bottles of vodka, whiskey, cider and wine.  I unravelled him yesterday evening when I decided that having a monster hangover was the BEST time for him to tackle his school filling system with Mummy… the table until around 9 p.m.  This means the AA meeting is back on the agenda even if I don’t think he is an alcoholic. What he is, is a chippy, self obsessed teeanger…..interesting typo….teenager, who thinks the world owes him (more than he already has and he has a lot) who decided- nah, who took a conscious decision in fact, the press the f’ck it switch so that his parents got angry enough to send him back to England. We’ve seen this before. He WILL finish this course.

Life in the Village

So it’s all be quiet as I’ve hardly left the house. I’ve yet to find out if Gnasher managed to sell his house (remaining in it until his dies which, although he is 76, he is unlikely to do for another 20 years). I’ve been receiving glares from the Non-Arab woman after LF went to kick her dog (who is constantly barking and running over the street to attack our dog when it ran aggressively towards the Fatty). Still haven’t caught the dog who shits outside our door but give it time, give it time (actually that can be resolution number 3).  Our nearest neighbour booked herself into hospital for the christmas holiday. Absolutely NOTHING wrong with her but she thinks there is. She did the same thing last year too. In fact, she is probably the one person who currently moans more than I do. There, that’s made me feel better.

FAtty’s moaning has reached new levels. Once I close this laptop, he’ll stop and walk off and do something else but whilst there is a chance to wind me up, he’ll do it.

Enjoy your days……….especially you, Dazzles. Sounds like you are having more than your fair share of the FUN CAKE of LIFE!




Christmas Eve Blog

Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin ran away……..

Yo ho ho dear blog,

This Christmas Eve here in Nowhere finds:


-lack of guests – well, we have one guest who keeps peeing underneath the Christmas Tree but the other expected guests called to say they won’t make it (how I wish I’d known this last night as it would have meant that I didnt have to drag my sick and tired body out of bed EARLY to take off the sheets, to wash them, dry them and put them back on again).

-lack of christmas cheer?  Well, I’m trying to work on that by opening the Ikea mulled wine bottle, heating it to a scalding temperature, scalding my mouth to check that it was in fact at a scalding temperature………it is.. but as I’m sick and have a sick Fatty sleeping (yes, I am letting him sleep even though it is 4.30 p.m. and yes, I do know what this will bring later…….PAIN), I need to go easy on the Chateau Ikea.

-Plenty of unwrapped presents to wrap

-A family of tasmanian devils, ripping up the playroom………funny, as I thought it was only The prof and the Lips in there, sitting quietly, reading books and revising….


Other matters:

Oh Bonjour to SutffedBudgie, my new follower. Plenty of snow on the Pyrenees. 


Bloody ‘puter is on go slow. So I’m typing and it’s like magic ink – nothing appears in writing for about 20 seconds.


I’ll sign off now and wish everyone a (very much more) Merry(ier) Christmas (than moi) and I’ll be back tomorrow when my laptop has got over it’s seasonal hangover.

Peace to all men…women and other species such as children, teenagers and turkeys.

Day 15 of Blog. Foggy Dew.

(Father) Blog,

It has been (about) 15 days since my last confession……

My sins? Well, I’ve committed a few minor ones which include:

swearing, swearing, swearing, thinking bad thoughts about my husband and children, more swearing, further bad thoughts of family, swearing…. oh and I smiled at a man who isn’t my husband in Carrefour.

I shall say 500 Hail Mary’s but I CANNOT promise that I won’t continue to sin along the same lines…… fact, just a minute ago me and the Courier Post guy broke all rules of Nowhere etiquette and are now on first name terms. So that’s two men who aren’t my husband receiving smiles from me on consecutive days.

Howdy to Texas, one of my new followers. I saw both mails. I am now in email debit to you.

Family Life

So we left the blog of Day 14 on the AA meeting cliffhanger.

The Prodigal and I struck a deal: He has to run EVERY lunchtime which should prevent him from purchasing 32 cent beers from Aldi (and then willy nilly cutting people’s hair. Never a successful marriage – alcohol and sharp scissors).

How does he prove it you ask?

Well, Mapmyrun app uses GPS to position the runner on a map (and send the evidence to the runner’s mother).

IF he doesn’t carry on doing this, then off we go to the Nowhere AA meeting. From what I see of driving skills (lack of) in Nowhere, during these meetings, the roads around here must be deserted.

Gems from the Face

Part I

I took all 5 of THEM to a supermarket. Whilst we were there, rather untypically, I spot a 6 foot plus tranny, of a certain age but giving it a go so fair play to him.

The Face has previous for pointing and shouting the bleedin’ obvious and has regularly  found my hand pressing down around his gob to stiffle his observances.

I was too late this time. I just hope the Madame Guy Bloke was French and his understanding of English, limited. His understanding of pointing and gawping? well, maybe he had poor sight….

Anyway, telling the husband about a man dressed up in women’s clothes, loitering around the meat section,the Face cries out:

‘yeah, it was a brilliant disguise!! Brilliant!’

Part II

The Face had a couple of friends over on Saturday evening.  Bearing in mind this is his 14th birthday, his best friend (also 14) bought him some condoms. I would imagine that in France, this is probably correct etiquette as they do like to start their human biology, section The Reproductive System, practical lessons early.

Whilst the Husband the Friend had a discussion about the price of condoms and in particular machine dispensed condoms, the Face told me that it was sensible to use condoms to avoid getting ‘Sida’ – that’s Aids in French. He said this with a straight face and I agreed up until the point he said:

‘yeah, also stops us getting rabies.’

HE IS PRICELESS!! The comedic value of that child is priceless.


Ok this blog is running on a bit. Next time, I’ll try to do less and more often? Or just less and less often……like my french homework, housework, food shopping, exercise………being a model human being……being intelligent……..

Until next time. G’day all my charming followers.






Day 14 of blog. Fevered cabin.

Morning blog,

Caught you out? Yep, it is a bit early.

Why I continue to hate mondays

When I woke up yesterday, I faced the prospect of:
– 2 sick kids (since Saturday)
– 2 baskets full of washing plus three bed changes on the floor as I am lacking a 3rd laundry basket.
-a french lesson (actually, I had the foresight to cancel this sunday evening)
-a meeting with the French teacher of the Face
– a house which, if Id seen on ‘how clean is your home?’, I would have been moved to ‘oooh, how can people live like that?’
-a continuation of a pre(mid?)-menopausal up the creek cycle
– a meeting with the AA

As i now need to make the hour long return school run (if I can get past the washing), I’ll leave you with all the best wishes for a tremendous Tuesday!

part II of blog 12 or 13

Gems from tonight’s dinner table

Starring: The Face

With no introduction to any particular topic:

‘yeah, so Mexicans don’t have chocolate at Easter.’

-‘oh really? what do they do or have?’

‘they crucify themselves………… with ropes. They don’t use nails any more.’

Closely followed by:

‘they (the mexicans, I can only assume), have a river where fish swim up your penis.’

What a show stopper that was!

And good night from me again.

Day ? of blog. 12 maybe or 13.

Howdy blog and new follower from Texas!

November, like February, is one of those rubbish months. Rubbish in terms of weather; rubbish in terms of it’s not yet Christmas (but the threats   bribes encouragements to the kids begin in earnest) and rubbish as it begins with a remember the dead day which is then followed by a remember the war dead day (both important and right but I think it would be nicer to have these days marked during spring).  I think the word I am looking for and which sums up this month is sombre……merde, or is that somber….the dementia: 1 memory: 0.

November, here, down in Nowhere, means beaucoup of rain. So much rain that it makes the grassed areas particularly muddy. So much rain that the mud becomes widespread and slippery. So much rain that when you are trying to park your two tonne….ton…(here we go again….dementia:2  memory: 0) car, the wheels and the mud experience a moment of polarity which almost results in the car ending up half way down the 10 foot bank.


(And when it almost happened…..when I applied the breaks and was not met with the car stopping, my first thought was ‘shit. the husband is going to go mad.’ Not, ‘am I about to kill myself and the child sleeping in the back’ (who has probably choked anyway as he fell asleep with a mouth full of baguette and peanut butter). I did also have a fleeting fantasy of a farmer arriving on a tractor to pull the car out and me driving the tractor…..yep, that’s my fantasy… DRIVE a tractor and not to enjoy a moment with the farmer in a hay stack)

The Prodigal

Well, I have to say, for one who is gifted in telling fiction, he has been slipping somewhat recently and actually admitting things (after only denying them 3 times before the admittance). This is progress.

I have found, in addition to the empty wine bottles (of last friday), an empty bottle of whiskey, 3 beer bottles, a beer can and a water bottle which smelt of vodka. This is NOT progress.

Operation Rayleigh – I’m going to send him on this next year. I need him to be in the most remote place of the planet. IF only they offered a Space Escapade – he’d go.

No escape. no lies. no booze. If it’s not the making of him, at least we’ll have a break from each other for 10 weeks (yep, I checked. There are other boot camps but this one offers the longest stint at this point in my research).

Love’s young dream

I’ve received messages from the Prodigal’s girlfriend in the past. I received one today.

Is it me, or is it odd for a 17 year old girl to seek relationship advice from the mother of her boyfriend?  KEEP ME OUT OF YOUR NONSENSE, THE PAIR OF YOU!

Religion anyone?

Now, I was brought up Catholic. I consider myself a Catholic – a BAD catholic (along with millions of others) but one nonetheless.  To say that over the last 20 odd years, I’ve slipped somewhat in my devotion, would be true. To say that I have lost my faith? Well, entre nous, I actually haven’t. What I have done, however, is question (myself first but also the idea of the Church as an intermediary between me and my God (whatever/whoever that is) what my faith is etc etc.

So, after spending the last few years in the Faltering Faith Wilderness, I’ve noticed that the preferred reading material (or page turning material) of the Prof and Fatty is the New Testament Bible. Now, this is a little odd in itself. What is odder is that (without my knowledge) we have two NT Bible knocking around the place and one or the other child has selected one or the other to have a flick through.  The Prof, in addition, has been asking to say prayers. NONE of this has come from me and certainly not from the Husband. They don’t spend enough time with my parents for that to have had any effect – so where is this coming from?  Should I take it as a sign to bring the kids up as I was?  The Prodigal and the Face spent most of their childhood in Catholic schools – surely, from how they are turning out, I should take that as a sure sign NOT to do that with the last three? The Face, when questioned last year, told me that the name of Jesus’ earthly father was Bernard!

Right, I’m going on (and on and on and on) with half of the dinner on the table and half still in the oven, so I’m saying a bientot without editing (yet again – yes, I promised myself not to do this and yet, here we are). Someone edit for me?



Day 12 of blog

Bonsoir Bloggy and my 9 followers……

Hang on – need to turn down LBC radio as I don’t really need to hear the traffic update for London (including two people knocked down by the 252 bus in Romford today……outside the Liberty Shopping Centre. I hope they weren’t jumping over the barriers to cross the road. Mind you, who could blame them. That underpass is not only grotty but a bit like a Muggers Parade) living in the Department of Nowhere in France.


So, today or rather, the last couple of days:

Good things –

tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock……erm, I’m thinking…..surely there were some good things……… i’ll be back about this.

oh yeah, I saw two camels, a lama, a cow (thing) with horns and some other animal tethered to the grass verge in front of Carrefour supermarket this afternoon.

I also managed to not wet myself on the front doorstep after being away from a toilet for over an hour and having to carry the Fatty, a baguette, my bag, his coat and my dignity, to the front door AND unlock it AND avoid the dog with a shoe and soft toy and dirty sock in her mouth. You see – it’s a great day after all.

oh and the oven which is in my kitchen – a novel idea – has been switched on (AND i remembered to remove the hard liquor, hidden from the Prodigal, in the steaming oven BEFORE) until March. Well, whooooop de weeeeeeee.

Other things –

Oh yes, the Prodigal.

So I cleaned his room (shared with the Face. I HAD to clean it as I have a family staying in there Saturday night and I would hate for them to think that I have reared two disgusting pigs…….even if it is true). Shall I tell you what I found?

I found about 8 socks (not matching, in fact, matching in their filth and stench), shoved into any crevice in that room that would support them; I found a plate which had once held some lasagne (and a bit remained) in a desk drawer (obvious place to keep it); a banana skin which looked like the skin of the Ancient Man found in the Bog; several serrated coke cans; half pack of biscuits; 10 million sweet wrappers; my best (unchipped) cups; some scrunched up toilet paper (I didn’t pause to study that piece for too long); dirty underpants but in drawers of clean clothes; two bottles of wine (empty); an ancient (was it the Bog Man’s?) ham sandwich in a bag etc etc.

What I didn’t find was a nice smell.

I told myself that I should be glad that I didn’t find more empty bottles (one of them was a bottle of chardonnay, so I didnt’ mourn its passing but the other one was  half decent).

French and understanding

So my (ongoing and failing) battle with the French language continues. Today, however, I had one of those moments of clarity. I understood everything that was being said on a radio call in /chat show.

This radio show is on mon-fri between 2-4 p.m. (so my husband now admits to tell me). It covers relationships (but what they actually talk about is RUDIES! What a show. I reckon I’ve increased my vocabulary too. Now, if they used this show as the Listening and Understanding curriculum for 6th form French, EVERYONE would be fluent.

French and misunderstanding

the Face: ‘Can you pick me up at 3p.m. today?’

Moi :’ probably not but you never, ever know, Face.’  We play this verbal dance Mon- Fri and 99.9 pct of the time, I don’t pick him up… I’m evil. It means he has to wait until 5 to take the school bus.

Today, however, emboldened by my new understanding (of French sexual language), I arrive at his school, gain entry, walk up to the Vie Scolaire desk and just as I say:

‘Bonjour, Madame!’

Am met with a woman (of a certain age, to be true) screwing up her face, DETERMINED to NOT UNDERSTAND ME.

‘I’m here to collect the Face of Blah blah blah class.’

More screwing up of face.

Conferring with her colleague (who clearly REFUSED to be pulled into this episode of some person who was not making ANY sense at all). The colleague spoke to ScrewFaceOldBag avoiding any encounter avec moi (you see, I CAN do french) to tell her that the Face was in a study period class and finished at 4 p.m.

The ScrewFAceOldBag then re-told me this information (the room really isn’t that big and we are the only three people in it).

‘So, he has to stay in school? He cannot come out?’

‘NON. Il va finir a 16.00 heure.’

‘Ok. Il peut prendre le bus.’

What they told the Face, when they saw him, was that his mother came to school at 15.20 heures to leave a message with the Vie Scolaire, to tell the Face to take the bus? Well, of course I did. Of course, I would go into school JUST to leave a message to tell my child to take the bus he takes every day!!!!!!

And this is the problem with people learning another language. It’s not the fact that you are getting that language wrong or not making yourself clear – far from it (or very close to it, in my case), it is the fact that people, when they don’t recognise an accent  easily (i.e. that you don’t sound like you were born within 5 miles…or km in this case, from where they were born), they absolutely refuse to allow themselves to understand you – I’ll go as far as saying, they don’t WANT to understand you. It takes a bit of effort.

I now look back on my early teens, in the house of KK, meeting her Greek father.  He would speak to me in perfect English but because I wasn’t used to his accent, I actually thought that he was speaking Greek. I remember him asking me something, turning to KK and saying (in front of him), ‘what did your dad just say?’  – well, that showed me!!! Sorry, Father of KK.  To be fair, when I met my husband, I understood 60 pct of what he said even though my favourite character was Inspector Clouseau………..


Gems (yes, that is gems and not germs…..yes, I know, you could get those too) from the dinner table – this week – starring (yet again) The Face

‘Yeah, I did an experiment today and got a good mark.’

‘well done, Face (with NO sense of irony……none……it’s not like he hasn’t already done this year and is repeating it…).’

‘yeah. So I stuck a straw in its hole and blew in it.’

And that’s it.  He didn’t mention what it was that he stuck a straw into. He didn’t even care to mention which hole. He just wanted us to know the basics. This happens all of the time. I’m presuming it was a science lesson and not……..PE or something. Better not to ask.

A few weeks ago (and I mentioned this on another blog entry) where the Face, presented me with a list of names.

‘yeah. you need to choose one for the parent rep.’

‘ah, so which one shall I choose as I don’t know any of these people.’

‘yeah. I don;t know them either.’

‘but Face, you might recognise the surnames of kids in your year? any names on this list belong to any kid you know?’


‘are you sure?’

‘what about Fernandez,Virgenie?’

I choked on my burned dinner because what he actually said was ‘Fernandez, Vagina’!!  And on we continue with this, probably, comic genius…or not.

And one from Fatty, in the car:

‘That song makes me sick!”

yep, he is two and a half. It worries me too. It makes a change from him telling ANY adult who coos at him to ‘GO AWAY YOU!’

Right – I’m off. I’ve got a right mob appearing here tomorrow for what? well to spend time in my company. why else would they come….. And I need some beauty sleep…..or rather, beautiful sleep.

Bonne nuit everyone.