Good Morning Dear Reader.
Well, they are definitely back! I'd driven up to Nantes to get them from the station and to let them avoid the trip down to to Montaigu. The traffic in Nantes was slower than an asthmatic snail having a hard day of it. And it's when you're in a traffic jam that you finally realize that time does actually speed up when you don't want it to. Slow motion does exist. So does that bastard that's just cut in front of you. He's taken your place in the line of traffic. All he had to do was to slip in behind and everything would be fine. But no, he goes in front of you. I know that if he went in behind me he would still be cutting off somebody, but IT WOULDN'T BE ME! Not very charitable, and I am ashamed . I arrived at the station and the person in front of me took a huge ammount of space to park HER car. (nothing is meant of course by the emphasis -no, nothing at all) I pulled up beside her and asked very politely would she mind moving back a tiny bit so I could park too. The "oh shit I'm going to get shouted at my wife if I don't get a parking space and I'm late" look seemed to install enough pity in her (thank goodness that I didn't have to use the puppy dog eyes").
I arrived just in the nick of time. Thank you Mademoiselle. The signal "pour le départ de ce TER" had just sounded but the doors weren't shut. I saw them and have never seen Virginie move so quickly - well that's a lie when she wants to hit me she can move quickly too!
It's amazing how one can loose sight of details in such a short time. EG the really rapid rate of talking that Virginie has. Killian too. Whistling can be very annoying... I wasn't used to this; I was used to relative silence. Silence and jazz. Jazz and being told off by my cat because the food wasn't coming fast enough. I had grown accustomed to zero stress - except for being shouted at my cat for not hurrying up enough to feed her.
In the car Virginie was reminding me how to drive, and what a red light was. Killian was reminding me how the light had just turned green and how it was he who would tell me. Virginie asking me where the bloody hell I was going and me explaining to her that no I wasn't lost but as trying to avoid traffic. And Virginie telling me how she had NEVER been here before but oh yes that she finally knew where she was ad had I just seen that car in front of me breaking??????
I was told in detail about the weekend in bretagne. Who had said what, who had eaten who, I mean what. Who had gone where etc, and wasn't it a shame that I wasn't there (oh yeah????). Killian told me how is grandfather was a "con" because he had been given a hard time for being Catholic. I told him that sometimes people are like that and that just because he had seen the light it didn't mean that his Communist grandfather had seen the light too. I also discovered that my son (nearly eight years old) was an apologist in the making.
They got in and Virginie was still talking. I still don't know how she does it. The TV was turned on. And for the first time in four days I shouted. It was awful. I hated it. I had enjoyed my peace and had even started to feel guilty about having enjoyed it so much. But not anymore!
Yes Dear Reader, they are definitely back!
Ian
Well, they are definitely back! I'd driven up to Nantes to get them from the station and to let them avoid the trip down to to Montaigu. The traffic in Nantes was slower than an asthmatic snail having a hard day of it. And it's when you're in a traffic jam that you finally realize that time does actually speed up when you don't want it to. Slow motion does exist. So does that bastard that's just cut in front of you. He's taken your place in the line of traffic. All he had to do was to slip in behind and everything would be fine. But no, he goes in front of you. I know that if he went in behind me he would still be cutting off somebody, but IT WOULDN'T BE ME! Not very charitable, and I am ashamed . I arrived at the station and the person in front of me took a huge ammount of space to park HER car. (nothing is meant of course by the emphasis -no, nothing at all) I pulled up beside her and asked very politely would she mind moving back a tiny bit so I could park too. The "oh shit I'm going to get shouted at my wife if I don't get a parking space and I'm late" look seemed to install enough pity in her (thank goodness that I didn't have to use the puppy dog eyes").
I arrived just in the nick of time. Thank you Mademoiselle. The signal "pour le départ de ce TER" had just sounded but the doors weren't shut. I saw them and have never seen Virginie move so quickly - well that's a lie when she wants to hit me she can move quickly too!
It's amazing how one can loose sight of details in such a short time. EG the really rapid rate of talking that Virginie has. Killian too. Whistling can be very annoying... I wasn't used to this; I was used to relative silence. Silence and jazz. Jazz and being told off by my cat because the food wasn't coming fast enough. I had grown accustomed to zero stress - except for being shouted at my cat for not hurrying up enough to feed her.
In the car Virginie was reminding me how to drive, and what a red light was. Killian was reminding me how the light had just turned green and how it was he who would tell me. Virginie asking me where the bloody hell I was going and me explaining to her that no I wasn't lost but as trying to avoid traffic. And Virginie telling me how she had NEVER been here before but oh yes that she finally knew where she was ad had I just seen that car in front of me breaking??????
I was told in detail about the weekend in bretagne. Who had said what, who had eaten who, I mean what. Who had gone where etc, and wasn't it a shame that I wasn't there (oh yeah????). Killian told me how is grandfather was a "con" because he had been given a hard time for being Catholic. I told him that sometimes people are like that and that just because he had seen the light it didn't mean that his Communist grandfather had seen the light too. I also discovered that my son (nearly eight years old) was an apologist in the making.
They got in and Virginie was still talking. I still don't know how she does it. The TV was turned on. And for the first time in four days I shouted. It was awful. I hated it. I had enjoyed my peace and had even started to feel guilty about having enjoyed it so much. But not anymore!
Yes Dear Reader, they are definitely back!
Ian
4 commentaires:
méchant! on dirait que tu regrette qu'ils soient rentrés!!! bouh! ;)
non, vraiment?
beh si!
mauvais père, mauvais mari!!! ;)
bouh egoiste! :p
pas de tout Mlle!
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