Phew.

I am exhausted after a stressful afternoon in Pontivy at The Caisse de Maladie where I finished up feeling really sorry for this very nice lady who obviously had no idea of what is going on. They all are very nice, which is the best that can be said for any of it.

But no assistance for me for the first time in seven years, due it seems to Brexit. Although she did have The Appeal Forms to hand, which was a bit odd.

I did however, manage to pick up a few pointers which leads me to suspect that if they don’t know what they are doing, how will they know if I don’t either, or not? I am your original manipulator of figures, give or take a few bob. Just don’t push your luck too far.

I do expect to win eventually. In the meantime I am already into Damage Limitation. Cut down on the booze and fags, which isn’t a bad idea. And O’Connor can say good bye to his endless expensive Treats. Poor Little Soul. So I am more than half way to recovery.

I remain the Eternal Optimist. I can only thank my Pagan God for that.

Bureaucracy.

I have just been informed that as an inhabitant of France for thirty years I am no longer entitled to the reciprocal arrangement for Health Care that French Nationals are entitled to in Britain.

Someone has obviously lost the plot. But it is a trifle upsetting in the meantime as my income is abysmal, due to my British State Pension.

Everybody is Appealing, of course, so this might be a bit of fun.

Meanwhile, don’t get ill.

Benevole.

Benevole means Volunteer in French. And today they are having a jolly just up the road a bit for everyone who is going to contribute to the coming Pardon. And possibly a few who won’t. Putting up tents and other such necessary items like cooking Lunch, so peeling potatoes could come into this at some point. It always involves lots of alcohol for either. Always best to leave when The Pastis comes out, although not many do.

We haven’t had A Pardon for two years, although It seems like much longer. It’s the one day of the year when everyone gets together. The French Catholic Church Service in Breton is lovely. But not everyone goes to that. It culminates in lighting a bonfire in front of The Shrine to Saint Rivalain because he, poor old soul, was covered in brambles for years and years. while everyone neglected him. Hence begging his pardon. And Nope, outside of Melrand no one has ever even heard of him or knows why he was made a Saint. Google hasn’t helped. But who cares. French Catholicism is something else, where everyone cares about each other all of the time. And everyone goes to everyone’s funeral, in the knowledge that everyone will go to theirs. And after all else, St. Rivalain is our Saint.

O’Connor is a bit pissed off because he wanted to go. But sadly, he still doesn’t know how to behave in polite company, if he ever will. He would be racing around like a lunatic and licking everyones feet.

You probably didn’t want to know that.

Normandy.

Robin Dominic is off to Normandy this coming weekend, on some sort of big boys jolly, although I don’t know why. None of them were even born when it happened. But there is some comfort in their possible attention to history. It is all too often forgotten these days. But time passes and no one really cares anymore. Or mayhap they will by the time they return.

As for me, this will be the first time on which I have been alone for four days in five years. Half of me is thinking, “Thank Christ for that.” And the other half of me is thinking, “Oh My God, what am I going to do with myself?” No dinners to cook and the house will be briefly perpetually tidy.

Such a pity that he can’t take The Rotten Little Piddler with him. O’Connor would love that. And then I wouldn’t have any piddles to mop up either.

I never did quite forgive my Father for not being at Dunkirk, or for not being at The Normandy Landings. He was in Burma and India at the time, while I suffered the bombs and deprivations of outrageous fortune. Albeit a bit too young to know the difference.

It is all strategy these days. And what they might have done, human life withstanding. But we beat The Bastard, which is probably all that matters.

Robin Dominic can make up his own mind.