Archive for August, 2008

There may be trouble ahead…
August 26, 2008

If anyone ever wanted to make a film about me, they wouldn’t be short of material. This is what happened to me this morning. At 9am I was rudely awakened from my sleep by three armed men banging at the door. They were gendarmes (policemen) and they wanted to talk to me about a very delicate situation. I had already had an argument with one of them over the phone on Sunday morning, and because of my refusal to comply with his ridiculous demands, he had brought his friends round (safety in numbers – I must have sounded very scary on the phone) to pay me a little visit.


After pulling on a bizarre assortment of clothes (no girl wants to be arrested in her dressing gown after all – I have already seen one of my neighbours, hands cuffed behind her back, being carted away in hers), I ran downstairs, opened the door and invited them in for a coffee, guns and all. As they arranged themselves around my small, kitchen table, I poured the coffee and prepared myself for what I knew would be a difficult conversation.


To be continued…




It’s only a piece of metal, isn’t it?
August 21, 2008

Nose squashed and wheels buckled, my little, green car made its last ever journey today…to the breakers yard.


I was handed a cheque for 50 Euros (it was worth about 2,500 Euros before the accident), then asked to sign a piece of paper agreeing to its destruction.


As it was hoisted onto the back of a lorry I could feel myself welling up.

Not because I was particularly attached to the car (it is just a piece of metal after all), but because I was about to lose something far more precious: my freedom


I have fought so hard to get it back over that last few years that I am reluctant to let it go.


I live in rural France, there is no bus service, I don’t like to rely on others and without a car I feel trapped.



Usual jovial self should be back by tomorrow…promise


The Certificate of Destruction

The Certificate of Destruction


For your eyes only! – Part 2
August 18, 2008

Finding an anonymous love letter in my postbox the other day has left me feeling slightly uneasy. Who would try and woo a grown woman with torn, lined paper and dodgy handwriting? My gut instinct was that it wasn’t someone I would like to meet in a dark alley, so I thought long and hard about how to respond. As my secret admirer (I prefer this to stalker…shudder) had left his email address, I thought a short but polite email was in order. Using my boyfriend’s email address as cover I wrote:




Thank you for the letter you left in my postbox. I am very flattered and understand why you chose to make contact with me in this way. As you may or may not know, I have a boyfriend – we have been together for a while and are very happy (though it has been a bit touch and go since he crashed my car). Because of this it is not possible for us to meet. 


Thank you anyway for the letter. (I thought it best to be polite, just in case I am dealing with an absolute nutter, who likes to play with knives and doesn’t respond well to rudeness).


Kindest regards,




This is what came pinging back:


Dear Tarte


its a plaisure replying me i was not expecting your message i was thinking you were never gona reply am very sorry i never thought that you were married (neither did I?) but in any case is no big deal (no need for the knives then…pheew). but dont worry i really understand but for me am really sad your boyfriend is a very lucky man to have beautiful and sexy lady like u . but dont worry next time i will see you in the village i will try to close my eyes and breath deep and watch you pass by (on second thoughts, if you are sane, rich and really, really gorgeous you could always give me a little wink).

big kiss




I hope this will put an end to the matter. If not, my next email will include pictures of me naked, with close-ups of my stretch marks and cellulite. That should sort it!


Feel the Love
August 14, 2008



Firstly, a very big thank you to Hadriana’s Treasures for sharing the luuuurve – it is my first award, so I will treasure it dearly. Not one to be greedy (except with a box of Roses), I would like to pass this award on to two other girlies who could also do with a bit of extra love at the moment: Dulwich Divorcee, who is currently missing her little treasures and the lovely Luna from Bubble and Squeak, who has had a bit of a tough time of late deschooling hers.


Feel the love!


For your eyes only!
August 12, 2008

‘Just for your eyes alone’ was the title of a handwritten letter dropped in my postbox the other day. There was no envelope, just a scrappy piece of lined paper, which had obviously been torn straight out of a school jotter. Intrigued by the title I unfolded it, unsure of what I would find. It read (and I kid you not!):




I no this is not the best way of doing this, but its been since a long of time that I really want to meet you and know you, buts its not easy for me to come and talk to a beautiful lady (why, thank you) like you. You know in the village you have lots of paparazzi (Victoria Beckham has nothing on me!). So I don’t want to cost you any problem. This why I prefer to do it this way.


I no you will be guessing who am I (too bloody right I am). You already saw me and me too. But anyhow, if you want to know more about me you can try to call me or mail me at.


Email address and mobile phone number


I promise you will not regrette doing this. Please let it be a secret between me and you. (i.e. please don’t show this to your big, ex-royal marine boyfriend)





My initial reaction was ‘OHMYGOLLYGOSH’ I have a secret admirer, how exciting! Which was swiftly followed by ‘OHMYGOD’ this letter was hand delivered to my postbox. What if he is a nutty stalker? He knows where I live!


My life is never dull…



Nice paper! How not to woo a woman.

Nice paper! How not to woo a woman.

‘Snakes and Ladders’ – That’s Life!
August 8, 2008

Yesterday I sat on the floor playing ‘Snakes and Ladders’ with Sonny.

The first time he landed on a snake he got frustrated and wanted to get up and walk away. I told him the game wasn’t over yet, that he still had a chance to win and if he continued to play, with the next throw of the dice he might just land on a ladder. Even if he didn’t, it didn’t matter; he had to keep on trying right to the very end. He might win, he might lose, but he would never know unless he tried.

Then it dawned on me. Through this simple child’s game I was teaching my son some very important skills: how to deal with the ups and downs of everyday life.

We all land on the odd slippery snake every now and again. The slide down can leave us feeling battered and bruised but we have to hang on in there, carry on believing that there will be a ladder to help us back up. If not, what else is there?

Gosh, that was a bit profound for a Friday afternoon; I don’t know what’s come over me! Think I am just feeling a bit maudlin because my car’s a write-off (see previous post).

You are probably wondering if my son won the game? – of course he did. I thought the lesson on losing could keep for another day.



Had a bad day?
August 6, 2008

I have.


This morning I had a rottweiler from the bank trying to frighten me into upping the repayments on a £23,000 loan I have been saddled with since leaving my ex. After going through my monthly income and expenditure (bills, petrol, food etc), and talking to me like a naughty child, we established that I had a whopping great 64 Euros to spare. Eager to get her salivating chops round this tasty, little titbit, she went in for the kill:



“Oh nothing much…fritter it away on expensive make-up or the odd Gucci handbag if the mood takes me. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU SILLY *****? IT’s 64 EUROS. AREN’T I ALLOWED ANY KIND OF A LIFE?” is what I should have said. What actually came out of my mouth was: “As I am a single mum, I try to put a bit aside for when I need to buy clothes or Christmas presents for my 6-yr-old son. And sometimes I use it to buy birthday presents for his friends, or to repair my car should it happen to break down. Oh, and the odd stamp now and again too. Just little things like that.”

 “So you don’t have anything to spare then?” (Not the brightest dog in the pack are we then?)

“Well, it would seem not – not unless you want to take the clothes off our backs?”

“ I see…” cue jingly music. “Ok, it would seem that we can extend your current payment policy for another 6 months, but we will have to call at the end of it to review your situation again.”


“I’ll look forward to that. Thanks.”


Do you know what annoys me the most? I took the loan out to renovate a house I no longer live in. I had to move out because of difficulties with my partner (the person who pressurised me into getting the loan in the first place), who continues to live there and doesn’t want to sell. I think he believes that if I get my hands on half the money I will disappear with his son – which I won’t. As it is impossible to prove that I have no intention of fleeing the country (I really do feel my son should spend time with his Father), we have reached stalemate. 


On a lighter note, I don’t have to worry about repairs to my car anymore. My boyfriend wrote it off on a bend last night. The damage is about 2,800 Euros (about the price of the car itself) and my insurance company will only pay out for a new windscreen – the only bit that didn’t break! As my boyfriend has even less money than me, it would seem that I am now without wheels for the foreseeable future.


So how am I feeling right now? Well… let’s just say…if someone told me I was going to get run over by a bus tomorrow I would probably let out a big sigh of relief, don my cleanest underwear, then go and sit in the road and wait for the bugger to come along.


 Roll on tomorrow!