My first bad day in France was Friday.
My husband came home from work at the lady’s house on Thursday informing me that they had decided it was best if I stay in on Friday in case the man from Orange turned up. I asked whether the man from Orange had indicated he was likely to turn up but it appeared the lady just thought that he might based on what I am yet to work out.
Friday dawned and I was not in the mood to stay in but equally aware how important the Internet is for us as a family, I was a good girl and did as I was asked albeit with a fine line of sulkiness. My husband went off to the supermarket with instructions to buy me a pair of cheap espadrilles and came back with two more expensive pairs of shoes whether to bring me out of my negative attitude or because he could not find the value section for shoes I don’t know.
All too soon my husband was setting off to work and I settled down to watch films and video games with the children.
As the afternoon went on, my mood cheered a bit especially when my youngest son and I managed to lay a fire in the wood burner successfully. I don’t think I have ever built a successful fire in my life but as ever, my 11 year old son tries something once and gets it spot on first time. There really is something hypnotizing about a fire and we sat transfixed by the dancing flames for some time with video games ignored. As the flames were orange, I joked with the children that that was about as much “orange” as we were likely to see today. My daughter wanted to know if the Umpalumpas were coming to see us!
My husband arrived at about 4pm to announce that Orange would not be coming today but on 10th July as they had originally said. Cue “Quelle surprise!” from myself and the children.
I knew I was childish but one thing that I really struggle with is having my freedom curtailed. I think that is the main reason I have struggled with bosses in most of my jobs and also why I too often feel constrained by the marriage and motherhood gig.
I took advantage of the news to visit the lady’s house where I blogged, caught up with emails and social networks and did some work too.
Friday night went well and I headed for an early night as we had plans for the weekend to get out and about. The peace of my lovely bedroom was shattered as I heard an argument brewing downstairs. I left it a while but cupboards were banging so I went downstairs to see what all the fuss was about.
My teenage son was having a major strop that the Internet was not on. He said we had lied to him and banged a cupboard or two to make his point. My ex-military husband acted as if this was insolence in the ranks at which point Testeorone ware ensued. I tried to keep the peace but my son was not to be reasoned with and gave me quite the mouthful or two. I turned into my Mum and shared a few home truths. Eventually my husband went to bed and my teenager settled to video games so guess who was left upset all night?
I tossed and turned when I made it to be at about 3am. I wondered if this would mean the French dream was over and then realised that I was not prepared to let it go.
So Friday was a bad day in France perhaps with emotions running high after such a big move, fatigue and all the rest.
My son is missing his friends and wants to chat to them online so every day is a bad day in France for him. I remember how at his age I would have shared thoughts and feelings with friends more than family and in a different way. I imagine I would have been cross if my parents had uprooted me just when I had a clear path to Cambridge. Waiting for exam results is always a tense time and although school structure is a pain, losing it all of a sudden probably brings its own stresses. I need to be more understanding but that is challenging when doors are banged and insults hurled at you.
Fortunately, my younger son and daughter are as smitten with France as I am. On Friday night, I was all for shipping my husband and teenager back to the UK and me and the younger two staying on here.
Have you ever had a bad day in France?