En Y Var.

Went to Pontivy early this morning to get my recalcitrant brat registered for work. But that was a waste of time since you can’t register for work without a Numero de Securitie Social, and this woman didn’t know how to do that. She probably got hers at Birth.
But I don’t think that a British National Insurance Number will quite cut the mustard here in France. This was all so much more easy back twenty years ago. No wonder the Black Economy is doing so well here.

Never mind. We went to Lidl. Bought a load of Sell by Date stuff, notwithstanding a kilo of Duck Breasts at half price. Even at half price this wasn’t exactly cheap, but life can’t always be about cheap Pork Chops and ghastly French Sausages.
Nothing wrong with French Sausages, but nothing even remotely resembling a Chipolata. Old habits die hard.

And then just as we were leaving, I found this box containing, Bananas, a Melon, a Red Pepper, two Cucumbers and loads of Carrots, all for 1 Euro. We eat a lot of Carrots. We always need Carrots.

So, it has been a good day. The Lord continues to provide. Albeit not in quite the way I hoped for. But I am not knocking it. Thank you, Lord.

Oh, by the way, I am not frightfully impressed with the Sushi, even if it was only 50 centimes a packet. I can only hope that there was no Puffa Fish in it. As it is, the odd Prawn will probably finish me off.

Such is Life.

Six weeks ago my much loved youngest son turned up on my doorstep after a traumatic end to yet another relationship.
Yer, yer, I know. But I am his Mother. Even if he is 50 years old.

However, he was doing quite a good job as a Fire Fighter at the time. The anti Depressants not withstanding. But that was nothing to do with the job. Although all Fire Fighters have to be mad.

I nearly had a fit, despite knowing nothing about anti depressant. You know, give me a Speed Job if what he says is true. I could well have got off on that during my frightfully traumatic life. Thank God I never did. But then I wouldn’t have known how to ask.

What! Admit that I couldn’t cope? No chance. But don’t imagine that anti depressant aren’t addictive, even if only as an emotional crutch.

He ran out of that shite three weeks ago, and is actually doing okay. Absolutely no possibility of getting anymore here as he doesn’t even know how to get to a doctor. And I’m not telling.

I think he now wonders why he ever fell for it. But his lady has been on this rubbish since she was seventeen years old. Jesus Christ, God preserve me. And him. He appears to have finished up with no self esteem what so ever. But then I am his Mother. So no blame intended to anyone.

Meanwhile, one of my grandsons did impregnate a woman of 38 years old when he was 21 years old. I am now a great grandmother. What a mess. She has bogged off back to her Mother. I hope she stays there.

I would probably decimate her if I were foolish enough to get within hall mile of her. She is old enough to be my grandson’s mother. But then there are monetary considerations, although not from me. I don’t have two sous to rub together.

Robin and I aren’t actually agreeing on this one, Robin being my son. And Elijah being his son. I have told Elijah to leave it be, and wait and see, while Robin seems to think that there is something to be salvage from a very misbegotten relationship.

No one in my family is ever going to deny the right of that small baby to any love and care that we can offer.

I am just disgusted by what she did. How does a woman of 38 coerce a boy of 21. Or have iI lost the plot?