Beating 'singlemotherdom'

The seed of an idea...   The Idea...

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So this is my first blog.Well it has come several days later than I would have liked but setting up all those profiles on My Space, Facebook, Twitter and e blogger took up so much time and frankly I still haven't got a clue what I'm doing with them. Ideally I'd like to link them all up but this is proving to be next to impossible for a techno dunderhead like me. Still I'm not a technophobe so at least I'm happy to give these things a go.

Well it's been almost a week now since I decided to move to France with the children and experience a new culture and hopefully learn fluently a new language -something I can't believe at the grand age of 39 that I cannot do. (I suppose I speak travel Italian but that's it). Life has been somewhat difficult over the last four years since 'singlemotherhood' came home to roost. Despite all the assurances of my well intentioned friends that I would get through it and that it wouldn't always be this hard, and I'd meet someone else, nothing has really changed except that things have got harder, and the mind numbing routine and loneliness much worse. So I decided to inject a new direction into my life (given the absence of any money) and that's when I had the idea. Of course at first it was just a madcap idea with no real substance to it, but once the idea took hold, being faced with a year in France as opposed to the interminably horrible continuation of my current existence, I knew that it was a 'no brainer' and I was going to do it. I thought I'm going to show myself and my children that it doesn't have to be this way and maybe my adventures will be of some interest too to all those mums out there who feel the same; in particular single mums, who no doubt, like me, feel isolated and not in control of their own lives because there are so many other forces and demands bearing down on them constantly, controlling them and forcing their lives down paths they didn't choose and that ultimately lead nowhere. Well that single mother is me too and I can't bear the injustice of it. That you can wake up one day to find a selfish person (your husband) has decided that the grassis greener where a blond bird is and walks away from you and your children and suffers not a jot for it while your life, as a result, careers horribly out of control. Well I won't accept the life that has been bequeathed to me by him, the legal system that supports him, and in many ways society too. That is why I decided to do something about it. With each passing day since I had the idea to go, I have come to realise that my decision is right and fast becoming a reality.

It's not as if I haven't tried other things first. I wrote a book which didn't really make any money, although once a Hollywood studio was interested. Then I wrote another book but the same pattern of rejection emerged, except this time I was much weaker emotionally to deal with it and I decided that I couldn't handle any more rejection on top of everything else at this time. Then I decided it might just be easier to get a proper job but just like my books my applications failed to get me anywhere after being out of work for so long. That's when I noticed that a lot of the jobs that appealed to me required me to speak another language. Thus a seed was planted in my mind. Anyway with the hike in prices thanks to bankers and the subsequent credit crunch (have you noticed the price of a cauliflower these days?) but with no more money coming in thanks to an ex who thinks it's right, just, proper, and even amusing to see me suffer, and as I said previously, a legal system that supports him in his endeavors, I was left on the brink of despair. That's when the idea to go to France really landed, like an illuminated alien craft, blinding me to all other options, except the one where I get whisked away from it all...

Now speaking of bankers... they're not all bad. No seriously, they're not... I mean it... stop shouting at me and listen... because once I mentioned my crackpot idea to my dad (who isn't a banker) he mentioned it to my sister, (who also isn't a banker) but she mentioned it to her husband (who is a banker) and between them both (my sister and said banker husband) they agreed I should go and live in their house in France for a year while I finish my novels. (I have two novels on the go plus of course my blogging). Of course then I was thinking well this is too good to be true but also, 'well I can't back out now. How can I turn down an opportunity like this?'

Anyway, before you all start groaning and saying it's all going to be too easy now. Let me remind you of the obvious hurdle, that of not being able to speak French (nor do my children) and inform you of what my sister then went on to say by way of warning. That:

A/the house has not been looked in on in 4 years, so it could be ******** bare or even filled with squatters (she lives the other side of the world).

B/The drive is long and will also now be overgrown so the first thing I will need to do is get the nearby farmer (who has no fingers apparently) to clear it with his tractor. I'm thinking who is the nearby farmer, how will I communicate this to him in pigeon French without seeming afraid of him, or staring fearfully at his fingers/stubs.

C/ The upstairs is still unhabitable but the downstairs is renovated and there is a sofa bed. So at least we can sleep on a sofa bed. Luxury.

D/She doesn't know if the AGA, fridge, freezer, washing machine etc even work. I'm thinking I dont care, I just love AGA's. Imagine having an AGA even one that doesn't work, after my electric hell in a kitchen the size of my sister's French pantry.

E/ The house is completely isolated and the nearest village basic and very very French. No one will speak English. This is very scary and I have had some Jack Nicholson hunched over his keyboard in the Shining type fears since she told me this. This is a worry as it was never my intention to emerge a year later looking like Jack Nicholson, besides, I'd never get back through customs with an axe in my handbag.

F/Despite being hot in the summer it snows heavily in the winter and I will get snowed in. (Hm, more Jack Nicholson/Shining fears). I'm thinking I hope that damned freezer does work because the first thing I'm going to do after the fingerless farmer has cleared the driveway, is fill it to the brim with supplies. Do you think you can get arrested in gastronomic France for possessing too many fish fingers? Do they even sell them over there?

G/Men have to wear speedos for swimming in the local swimming pool. What kind of rule is that? A very interesting one I think. I shall make notes when I am there.

H/Mum has offered to come with me in the beginning. Better fill the fridge with wine. No, not for her, for me!

Anyway, all the above has scared the hell out of me but failed to deter me. So operation moving to France is still on and I will keep you posted.
SingleMotherAnonymous SingleMotherAnonymous
36-40, F
Jul 15, 2010