Thank you for the company…

A few weeks ago, as I was walking back from the Eurostar station towards Waterloo, the wind was cold and while the days were beautifully sunny, the evenings were already quite chilly especially for those unfortunates who live it rough. As I walked into the station from the overpass west of the station, I saw a young man, sat in the drafty tunnel finishing a sandwich, with a his didgeridoo on his lap. It was so cold the chattering of his teeth was probably doing a good job chomping through it to be honest.

As you do when you’re on a mission to get somewhere your mind wonder what caused him to be there and if you should stop do give him some change or at least have a chat but then your legs keep moving and then it’s just too late to do anything about your thoughts…you’re now 20 feet away so what’s the point. All I had managed was a smile and a nod as I walked by, I had been travelling back from Lille and just wanted to get home, having another hour and forty minutes on the train. I’d check the timetable and see what time my next train was and see, maybe I’ll have time to spare. I did…4 minutes…or 34 minutes. Technically I had nothing better to do once at home other than sit my ass in front of the TV with my warm socks on and munching through my own dinner, so I went to the shops, got a couple of bottle of juice and water, a scratch card and walked back against the flow of people.

His sandwich finished, didgeri-man looked up and smiled through chattering teeth, he was probably in his late 20s early 30s, travelled, blond with a beard and ponytail (who doesn’t these days…the beard is back people!).

A few weeks ago I had bought this beautiful 6ft+ long woolly scarf at M&S…I could wrap it around me mummy style.

I said Hi and asked if he wanted a scarf cos mine was just too long, I kept tripping over it, he was more than happy to help so I wrapped him in and sat down…handing out the bottles “to wash down that sandwich” and the scratch card. He laughed and got scratching but no win on that front.

“- ‘mind if I sit with you ’til my train arrive?
– No that’s cool. Thanks for the drinks.
– No worries…so how come you sit in the draftier part of the station?
– it’s for the acoustic, you see anywhere else people can’t really hear me play but it’s best I stay here for a couple of hours rather than in a warmer place cos when I play it sounds good here so there is a better chance to get some change.
– ooh I see…would you play for me then…show me the acoustic, I said with an encouraging smile.
– sure.”

And so he got on with it and started playing til I almost killed him by asking “are you didgeridave?” …that’s a real artist by the way, he does similar beatboxing/didgeridoo style than my new friend was doing and while I’ve heard him before I had never seen his face, so it could have been, but instead my didgeri-man just burst out laughing and got into a coughing fit…he explained he’s had a chest infection that was just not going anywhere. Looks like my scarf and the fluids I had bought him were probably gonna be welcome if he was going to get that fixed, though not by staying in a drafty tunnel, but there is no messing with the acoustic, and he was right, it sounded pretty good.

We stayed chatting another 5 min and I made a move to go catch my train, as I said goodbye and wished him good luck, he said thanks for the company!…not the scratch card, not the scarf…but the most important thing to anyone, off the street or rich, the company. The interaction that makes you real in the eye of the world.

It wasn’t much and it wasn’t fancy and I did manage to get on the wrong train going nowhere while mine was leaving the station 3 ft away…(what a donut!) but all in all I hope it was something to him, if anything it was something to me.

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No light without darkness…does it have to be so?

2016…in the end not much different than 1816 or even 1946…yes technology and plumbing are much better, thanks some clever clogs out there and many wrongs and death to make it right, but deep down human nature is still there. Territorial, damaged, spiritual, brainy or handy we are still looking for the next best thing, people are still killing each other often due to a damage head of the state or a rivalry that should have died with its rightful owners decennia ago instead of dragging their descendants into turmoil of hatred and intolerance.
These same kids who if you managed to get through to by drilling gently in their armored skin to stop them from their daily fight against the world for a 10 minutes break will suddenly look…really look around them, the wider picture not just their small hell and question them…not their family, not their gang, not their racial group, but actually them as a human individual, as to why do they think they are still fighting, where does it come from and is it all worth it in the long run…these kids will realise and agree that the reason for the rivalry has been lost over generations, it’s more of a tradition now like Christmas or Easter.
Is it worth it? Well, I guess on the small scale that is their entourage that’s what keep them alive if they care enough about the fight it keep them on alert at all time and might keep them alive slightly longer than others…but what kind of life is this? And really if they do manage to stop and take a bird’s eye view of the situation they will look for a way out for a better life, who wouldn’t?
That is the trick, isn’t it? Being able to get through and stop them long enough for a zoom out of their life to appreciate this is not It! There is so much more and the world is a big place.
Even without leaving their country, they can make a difference and make a better life of their choosing, have a family of their own and instill new traditions, some which include tolerance, love and open-mindness.

I wish all this people, young and older to find that opening, that ray of hope that helps them pull through and widen for others to grab onto until the darkness recedes all the way back under a rock where it belongs.

Thanks for reading.

PS: Reading the Freedom Writers Diary at the moment…kinda triggered my blog
chromosome.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Freedom_Writers_Diary

 

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DTGFTMLFDLWA or something like that

Decent Tenant Good For The Money Looking For Decent Landlord Without Agent!!!

So here’s what I’ve learnt lately, if you want to be a good estate agent, you need the below skills (or lack of):

– no customer service
– no common sense
– make sure you make shit up about what the landlord will or will not do for you
– do no bother calling back with the answers to questions you had to the “weekend staff” who doesn’t know anything about the property.
– wear very high heels to do farm visit or to walk a mile before finding out where the front door is.
– make sure to be condescending when being asked about the EPC as if this was “sooo 19th century darrlin'”
– make sure to work the same office hours as most of the population, forcing them to get in rush hour traffic to make it to a viewing.
– Force working citizens to take the time off work to have the best chance of a decent property rather than having the leftovers of the week end.
– Book the inventory slot at a very inconvenient time so that you cannot make it and fight for your deposit.

These people are professional thieves with no idea how to make the most of a new property falling on their lap…the less information about the property the better.

Now when this is true about 90% of them, you might get lucky like we did on our new property where the Landlady deals directly with us, and after our first call to her we almost fell over backwards where she was prompt to respond, polite and quick to “do the needful” as my employees call it.

So to you all out there going through moving hell, know that there is hope! Like Love you have a good landlord/landlady waiting for you somewhere.

WordPressement votre.

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I can’t transform a pumpkin into a carriage but…

I will be one of the best Godmother ever! My friend M. and her man R. have asked me if I would do them the honour to be their second boy – little Fred -’s Godmother! To be fair they were a tad worried that I’d say No since I have made the choice not to have my own kids. K and I are just not interested in parenting; we like our lives the way it is, maybe a little selfish but in this day and age, it’s not about re-populating the planet, is it?

I have offered my womb to me younger sister L. in case she can’t carry her own baby due to her endometriosis since she’s the only one out of three girls who is keen on having a family of her own, but having part-time children like a Godson or a Nephew/Niece will be as far as my involvement into a child life will go. 

But I will do it! I will embrace it with a big smile on my face and a light heart, even after my Godson-to-be “baptised” me with an Exorcist-like jet of warm milk after I gave him his bottle the other night…it could be because of the amazing smile he gave me right after, reminding me of the pictures of me when I was his age with no worries in the world but to be fed, cleaned and cuddled.

 So it is official, I have been adopted by an English family, I am not after all just another mate and feel upgraded to a dear friend status, trusted to be there for better or worse in their child’s life. It was so unexpected that I was taken aback at first, and then almost panicked as only a few weeks ago I would have burst into tears and didn’t want to look like a Muppet. I was so out of synch with the world that a 20 seconds advert for a wildlife program with breath taking pictures would make me cry, thanks to a few pressure point and some Bach’s flower I had to take for almost two weeks I was able to act like a rational person and just beam at them saying Yes! I would love to!
So as the song goes: It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, and I’m feeeeeling good

Don’t misunderstand me, not wanting children is not the same as not liking them, and being excited to be a Godmother doesn’t mean it’s because I want a babe of my own; the cave woman in me and my hormones want one, but I don’t actually need it. So this is the next best thing, I can give the child back at the end of the day, or the holidays and carry on with my life in the knowledge that I won’t be the one ruining their life – ok, I know some of you might say “or make the next Beethoven/Hawking or Bieber (such a lol!) – but what are the odds, hey? – so instead they get the best of me and we get to spend quality time together…and I can teach them French!

So there, godmotherhood here I come! M. And I have already agreed that if my godson ever wants a Tatoo I am the one to take him but not until he’s 16 ahahah! This will be a great adventure I can tell!

Women. They are a complete mystery.
Stephen Hawking
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When there is life, there is death

Someone said darkness is just the lack of light. Does it mean death is not to be feared because it’s only the lack of life?
Until now I thought I was afraid of death but really what I fear…dread more like, is the “lack of life” in the people I love. My grand dad, strong willed, so stubborn and always present in my life is slowly disappearing in the darkness that is Alzheimer. It’s a curse. Receding but not dying…being aware of the machine slowly shutting down and there’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing people around you can do but be hurt to see you go a little more every day. A little death.

My friend’s dad died yesterday. He was an arse, an alcoholic and until a few years back she still had hope she could save him from himself. He destroyed the life he was given and treated the one he had created like shit.
She had not spoken to him in 3 years and been pushed so far that her last words to her Mom was “ call me when he’s dead”…and so she did. I expect this kind of broken love will always haunt her no matter how mean he was. You can’t choose your family but they are still a part of you no matter what.
I grew up seeing poneys and rainbows I guess a happy family no matter what; family reunion always gave me a boost, uncles, cousins, parents, grandparents and great grand parents, brothers and sisters…what was not to like? Then I became an adult and time showed me that some of my loved ones where so selfish or fucked up in the head I couldn’t believe this happened overnight. Maybe I was blind; maybe when you grow up the world around your bellybutton doesn’t quite register. Then again I was not home often from the age of 15. I was staying at school during the week for the next 4 years, it was the time of freedom, parties and heart breaks. Next thing I know I’m 19 and it’s time to get on with my solo life, to move out, see the world a little further than Auvergne. I never looked back, just kept on going, either side of the Channel; unable to settle anywhere without feeling something was not quite right but you keep on moving, meeting people, experiencing the world daily along a path only fate knows.

My family back home is like a time capsule to my past. Of course their lives doesn’t stand still, but it’s like reading a novel, when you close the book, it doesn’t quite feel like it happened. Sometimes I wish I was there for them, my sisters, my grandparents, my Mom and Dad but at the same time I feel I have no right because I’ve been away so long. No matter all the ways we have of communicating these days, it will never be the same as being there, living side by side. Giving them a hug or cooking them diner to make them feel better when they’re having a hard time.
And the thought of death…of losing one of them one day becomes overwhelming. I might not see them often but the thought of not being able to speak to them ever again, laugh with them or share our latest achievement or drama with those who have known who I was and who I have become feels like I am being stabbed in the heart.

Lately I have become restless, K seems to be my only anchor but I am starting to really relate to the Celestine prophecy. Why are we here and what is the point of all that? It’s all very well to descend from a reptile or an ape, make our life as comfortable as possible and be as independent as we want, but now what?! It seems if it wasn’t for the modern man, some tribes who have not evolved for hundreds of years are so much happier. So where did we go wrong? Why is love and hate still have such a strong hold on us?! Have I gone full circle? The same way darkness is the lack of light, hate is only the lack of love or sometime too much of it. Is what we call love actually envy, could it be why it hurts so much when we don’t get it?

Just restless.

Les hommes, dit le Petit Prince, ils s’enfournent-dans les rapides mais ils ne savent plus ce qu’ils cherchent; alors ils s’agitent et tournent en rond – St Exupery.

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First times are my favourites

Il nous fallait partager un des lits ce soir-la. Ce n’est pas un problème, après tout nous sommes adultes…et amis. On se dit bonne nuit, on éteint la lumière ; on pousse un soupir de satisfaction et on se détend après une longue journée. La lumière de la lune éclaire la chambre a travers les rideaux et la présence d’un autre corps a proximité réveille en nous ce manque de tendresse dont chacun a tant besoin pour pouvoir fonctionner correctement dans ce monde de chaos.

Les yeux fermés,   l’air de rien,  on bouge, on se tourne  et millimètre par millimètre on se rapproche, on a l’impression que ca prend toute la nuit, le temps ne veut plus rien dire. On sent  l’électricité statique qui nous lie. L’esprit en ébullitions, nos corps en pilote automatique, sans un mot on franchie le pas. Doucement, lentement comme si on touchait à quelque chose d’extrement fragile, les mains tremblantes d’anticipation on se découvre, nos doigts s’entrelacent. Le cœur battant la chamade, tous nos sens  en alerte, on se rapproche, ma jambe glisse entre les siennes, pendant que sa main me caresse la hanche et remonte le long de mon dos, caresse ma nuque avant de la rapprocher de ses lèvres si douces, si invitantes…gourmandes. Ça faisait si longtemps que je n’avais pas ressenti ce bien-être, j’ai tellement d’amour à donner et cette nuit j’ai un récipient à qui le transférer, quelqu’un dont l’esprit est toujours en tourment et qui comme moi a besoin de ce moment comme un homme a la mer aurait besoin d’une bouée de sauvetage. On s’accroche l’un à l’autre, on se gorge de chair, on s’embrasse, on se mord nos mains sont partout; on se dévore comme s’il n’y avait pas de lendemain, comme si nos vies en dépendaient. Une passion née d’un manque commun. Les vêtements disparaissent nos corps ne font qu’un, on bouge au même rythme nos courbes et nos angles parfaitement emboîtés, ma peau caresse la sienne, mes mains dans ses cheveux les siennes s’accrochent a mes hanches la passion redouble  d’ardeur et je ne souhaite qu’une chose c’est que le temps s’arrête pour pouvoir en profiter encore et encore, rien n’importe que ce moment-là, lui et moi, ce clair de lune et la nuit qui nous entoure.

We had to share a bed that night. It wasn’t a problem, after all we are both grown ups…and friends. We say good night, switch the light off; we sigh in relief and start to relax after a long day. The moonlight lit up the room through the curtains and suddenly the proximity of another body close by awakes the lack of tenderness that we all need so badly to be able to function in a world of chaos.

 Eyes closed, seamlessly, we shuffle, we turn and millimetres by millimetres we get closer, it seems to take the whole night, time is meaningless. We feel the static electricity that bounds the last centimetres between us. Our spirit boiling, our bodies in auto pilot and without a word, we cross that line. Slowly, caringly as if we were touching something extremely fragile, hands shaking in anticipation we discover each other, our fingers intertwined. My heart pounding, all our senses in alert, we get closer still, my leg slides between his, while his hand caresses my hip and works its way up along my back, my neck before closing his lips so soft, so inviting…greedy. It’s been so long since I have experienced this well-being feeling, I have so much love to give and tonight I have a recipient to whom I can transfer it, someone whose troubled spirit is always tormented and who like me needs this moment as badly as a man overboard need a life belt. We grab at each other, gorging ourselves with flesh, kissing, biting, hands everywhere; we devour each other as if there was no tomorrow, as if our lives depended on it. A passion born from a mutual lack of love. Our Clothes disappear, our bodies melt into one, we move at the same rhythm, our curves and angles a perfect fit, my skin caresses his; my hands in his hair and his on my hips, passion increases twice over and all I want is for the time to stop and make the most of it, again and again, nothing matters but this single moment, him and me, the moonlight and the night around us.

R, ca fait peut-etre 10 ans mais c’etait une de mes plus belles nuits, merci.

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Hormones, genes memory or human obligations?

The dreams are back…maybe I should just blame my friend and her pregnancy news. It has to be the reason why this door of my subconscious opened again. Having a baby…no!…”wanting” a baby…something of flesh and blood…your own DNA mixed with another human to carry on expanding the gene pool of human race. At least that’s how my pragmatic brain talks to me. And why should it not? In this day and age it gives me the choice to be a simple individual going through life at my own pace and having my own adventures, to finally die alone or along with my partner, or have a family of my own, birthday parties, school runs, more birthday parties and meddling with people I shouldn’t have to know if it wasn’t for the sake of my kid(s) well balanced social life.

And yet, the dreams are back.

A little girl, blond with blue eyes…who looks a lot like my younger sister…coincidence? After all I was 8 years old when she was born and already the big sister of another blond and blue eyed 18 months old. People used to think they were twins within a few years, used to irritate the heck out of them ahahah!

*siiigh* memories of childhood…am I depraving a new generation of these moments of awkwardness, happiness, sadness…maybe greatness…or horror?

 

Even if it deteriorated when I became an adult, part of me wants what I had when I grew up …big family gathering, games and laughs, learning from uncles, parents, grant parents, even great grand parents or teaching younger ones, baby sitting my baby cousins, playing and going out!

Part of me long for all this but it will never be the same, will it? We all grew up…my parents got divorced and a saga of ups and downs started. One of my uncle turned out to be an ass I would not (and am not) giving the time to, while the adopted one have real mental issues…between the two, begging for money instead of getting a job or calling to say that they are going to jump under the next train, my grand parents went through a lot of hard times and heart breaks. My cousins went their own way when their Dad started to poison their relationship with my grandparents and only recently have they been in touch again and it felt like everything was right but not the same, never the same again.

 

So why do I cry in my dreams when I have a child in my arms? I can actually feel love pouring from my being; I hear “its” laugh of joy…that baby laugh that starts with a screech and end in a pure giggle…just the pure joy of being, and it’s as if my heart’s about to explode.

So there must be a biological clock after all…and I am fighting it during the day and my subconscious is torturing me at night. I wake up thinking I’m glad I have an implant as I might not trust my body to behave. Maybe this is just human nature…survival instinct.

That’s another thing that bugs me…my grand-ma is a single child, she managed to create three children. Two boys and my Mom…both my uncles failed to have children of their own, they have married either too late or someone with her own kids. Then my Mom had 3 girls, two of us don’t want kids, the only one that wants them might not be able to do so due to an endometriosis, add to that having to burn away some cancerous cells and this very much looks like the end of our family’s line.

 

Like another star in a sky filled with trillions, no one will notice, but when I think about it this way, I start hyperventilating on the edge of a panic attack at the idea that I might be finishing off my family tree. Am I being selfish? Should I keep on our gene pool alive and maybe create someone amazing? But then again I might be creating an evil sonova-doo-da! Some would say it’s a sign. The only unlocked door to a new branch to the family is my younger sister and yet it has been jammed with an illness. Maybe it is meant to be the end of the line…maybe there is an alternate dimension where we carry on and our children doom our planet? …maybe I should just stop here…and let you be judge.

 A bientot!

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