So, we had left the house for another two years prior to moving out full-time. If you’ve missed the previous renovating stories you can read them here, here and here.
Mr Normandy had a deadline. To make the house water tight within 2 months so that we could move all our worldly possessions, from our damp rental accommodation, into our home. This was a tall order. We knew we had to be out of the rental property (which was big enough to store all our contents etc) by mid July. We needed to ferry all our stuff over in stages to avoid paying storage costs. We’d already saved money by moving all our goods ourselves from the UK. We had made sure we’d rented somewhere where we could combine rental and storage together. Continue reading “The Full-Time Building Works Commence”→
I wrote this on my now old blog The 1970s Diet. So, I haven’t recently had a contact lens removed from my eye after it being in there for 3 weeks. I do, however, like this post as it reminds me of why I used to love coming to France on holiday. Is it different now I live here? I suppose I don’t notice the painted water towers as much but I most certainly can appreciate a good roundabout when I see one. I haven’t, as yet, come across the nasty stuff I was talking about in the woods – maybe it’s a southern thang! I still appreciate the beauty that surrounds me and I hope I never take that for granted.
Try before you buy they always say don’t they? And prior to moving to France, I would have said nah just pick a region, google it and job done. You don’t really need to live somewhere for 6 months/one year to know a place – everything can be found on the internet. Oh, what an amateur. Yes, you can find out loads from the comfort of your own living room, prior to moving (well just about anywhere in the world) but you don’t really know a place until you’ve actually lived there. Continue reading “Top 5 Tips For Renting In France”→
This article was written by me on my previous website The 1970s Diet and is so darn good and comprehensive that I have shared it for you here. Whilst this guide is written with families in mind, in particular, my friend who is travelling for the first time – I feel it’s applicable to anyone wishing to have a road trip this year.
We have been travelling to France since our eldest was 6 (he’s now 11), my youngest 4 and Buddy who was 3 months old on his first European holiday. I have flown before when our eldest was 18 months old which was a horrific experience which I’ve written about in this post. I still cannot talk about it. It still haunts us some 10 years on! This blog post also details our very first trip to Brittany, France and how we totally under estimated the sheer size of the country compared to the UK. Continue reading “Top Tips For Travelling By Car In France”→
Okay, when people come over for a visit it can be tricky to decide where to send them. This is because there is so much to choose from. People don’t come to Normandy for the weather. If you do then I’m sorry to have to break it to you – you’re gonna need a refund. As I type it’s torrential rain just in time for the school run. Yes, we do see the sun and it can be glorious but this year and the back-end of last has been particularly dire. Now I have it on good authority that the Dordogne has been awful as well. Edit – today has been glorious! Continue reading “A Week In Normandy Itinerary Overload!”→
When a school phones me about one of my troops, I don’t expect it to be anything other than child sickness. Well you don’t with my lot. I don’t want to show boat or anything but they’re never been in much trouble at school. I’ve never sat in the Head’s office discussing my child’s behaviour. They’re well behaved at school (can’t say the same at home!) and if I ever got a phone call from the school – it was to say one of them had thrown up.
Now, I’ve got to be honest Master Normandy is my first born and for years I was fiercely protective of him, especially when he went off to school for the first time.
I even gave up my career to stay at home to look after him (no great hardship I had a ball!) as I couldn’t bear the thought of a 17-year-old, still recovering from the night before, taking care of him. Oh and the fact that it would have cost £50 per day and that was back in 2004.
He was always such an easy child to deal with and as a baby he was into everything! I had to follow him around everywhere. He was just so curious, so much so you could be in a tiny tot gym environment, where all the toddlers were balancing on beams etc and he was looking for the exit to see what was beyond the door.
However, he was also incredibly quiet especially around adults. He would not say boo to a goose. For instance, if I were to say can you tell your teacher “X”, there was no way he would do that as it made him very anxious.
Even now, when an adult speaks to him, he doesn’t immediately reply and when he does he tends to look down, shifts from one foot to another and it can come across as a bit rude. He does find the whole bisous difficult and remembering to say “Bonjour” before you ask anything. There is an etiquette here in France. As in the UK it can come across as arrogant if you’re social skills aren’t how they should be. He’s probably on some spectrum for something somewhere but we just tell him to try remember to do these things.
I suppose for a long time I spoke for him as I just knew he wouldn’t do it himself. When he was in his first year of reception another child (very troubled who did leave the school) would pinch his wooly hat and run away, draw on his jumper and punched him in the face – he wouldn’t say anything to a teacher. So I used to sort stuff out for him.
As time went on, I realised the error of my ways (by about Year 4) and tried to make him more independent.
I digress. I always do.
So the Head Teacher of his college phoned my husband this week. I was out with my sisters about to have a nice coffee in a cafe. Remember that cafe culture? That illusive aim of mine living here in France? In fact, maybe I need to rename this blog – “Searching For The Cafe Culture?” My husband said you have to go in – there is a problem with Master Normandy. I raced over to his school thinking it was his broken ribs. A reasonable assumption I’d say. I saw my precious first born swagging around like some kind of celebrity in the playground. Puzzled about this he approached me and said “don’t worry mum it was only the once it’s fine.” Say what?
Turns out my unassuming quiet child had been selling sweets and coca cola, for a profit, to his classmates with his friend. I was confident that this had been my son’s idea as he’s a keen entrepreneur. He has always enjoyed Dragon’s Den and The Apprentice and is always thinking of his next business venture. He always wanted to have ‘yard sales’ (too much American telly) and what not.
However, he would have known that doing this in a school environment, was a big no no. Firstly you have children who may not have enough money, then there’s the Head’s/school reputation, the trust of the parents who are assuming their child isn’t eating junk and don’t get me started on the “what if’s?” with regard to an allergic reaction.
Not only that, this is Private fee paying Catholic school, I mean could it get any worse? Great. Oh and to add to matters turns out this is illegal – naturally my son wouldn’t be Siret registered to sell goods etc and the police could have been called. Nice. A criminal record at age 14 #bravo.
Anyhow, I had to go and see the Head Teacher. A lovely man who runs a great school in my opinion. Oh the walk of shame. I can understand French pretty well and can convey myself in a fairly pigeon manner but the school had asked, that the English teacher, sit on in the meeting. A nice consideration I thought.
So there we all were, my sister as well (dreaming of her promised hot chocolate in a cafe) listening to the Head Teacher tell my son to wipe the smirk off his face – this was serious. This is a coping mechanism but it soon turned to tears.
I have to say I did feel so disappointed that he had done this. Firstly, we are opening ourselves up to racist comments. Here are “l’anglais” selling junk food to French children and taking a profit. I mean how does that look? It’s no different to people in the UK who complain of too many foreigners taking up resources in school (by the way those children tend to do better than the locals) and coming over here claiming benefits. It wasn’t good. Imagine your UK parent hearing that a group of Eastern Europeans had been selling stuff at school? Do you think they would say “oh how entrepreneurial of them”? Nope. Me neither.
Plus after the #truckgate and #ribsgate and car always being in the #garagegate. I really could have done without #schoolgate. The punishment was a mark in his carnet (school book) and a written letter of apology. Thankfully, the X isn’t too serious as there was talk of it affecting a Lycee accepting him. His educational career finished before it even took off. The Head Teacher was very fair.
Later that evening our son, who has started to get a bit too sure of himself, (maybe it’s the freedom he has here) was pulled back into line and reminded how serious it was. He was also able to get stuff of his chest i.e the pain from his broken ribs, feeling less motivated and missing competing and training on his bike. He felt burnt out with all the effort he has put in – an incredible effort at that – he’s 6 out of 28 in his class and came with no French. He is still on target to get the best mark “tres bien” in his Brevet. He just needs to stay on the rails. It’s now that teens start to feel all the pressure, just when their hormones start to change. I mean it really is the worse timing but it is the same for all teens. Survival of the fittest and all that.
I know it was, on the face of it, a bit of harmless entrepreneurial fun but the bigger picture was quite different. Now, the mother of the other boy thinks my son is a feckless bad influence and won’t be allowed to see his closest friend. This is small town living and quite different problems compared to London living. Only this week 2 lads were stabbed in Croydon town centre at 5pm and numerous stabbings and killings are rife across London at the moment. I find it incredibly sad and have no answers.
What this has taught me is I don’t want to have a small town mentality. I don’t want to have lived here so long that minor tittle-tattle (not this school incident) i.e banal gossip even scratches the surface with me. As the majority of it is really small fry compared to what the majority who live in large towns have to put up with. I don’t want to lose part of my identity and have no appreciation to global matters elsewhere.
I know what my son did was wrong but it has to be put into prospective. He had his phone taken away. He doesn’t have an X-box so we couldn’t take that away – my thoughts on those are written here. In my view, they are more toxic than anything else and parents hand these to their children on a plate. I felt that 2 broken ribs, no phone and being judged as a bad influence and god knows what else was enough punishment to fit the crime. Wouldn’t you say?
Here’s hoping to get to half term without anymore drama? What are my chances?
Yay, the week that was #camiongate (see this post) just got better when it transpired that Master Normandy (my eldest age 14) decided to mix it up a bit with a broken rib or two. Now he didn’t do it on purpose. Just like my daughter didn’t get bitten by a dog and slam her thumb (still growing back) into the car door on purpose. Kids are kids and accidents happen wherever you are in the world. Continue reading “Break A Rib”→
Mmmm what does that even mean? What does it mean to live the life you dream of? Answers on a postcard. I have come to ponder that of late as it’s an expression that is bandied around quite a bit. For me, it would be to live in a country that 1) I love (check) and 2) not to have to do any of the day-to-day crap as you’re an adult god damn it. No tick there. Continue reading “Living The Dream?”→
Having done a two week stint in 2014, Mr Normandy headed back out in 2015 to crack on with the works. This time to take off the roof. Initially we had plans for dorma windows but subsquently decided against it due to time constraints and various problems with rentals etc. By the way, the plaques on the building were made by Mr Normandy – we had a whole range of them which we used to sell and some pet RIP headstones. Another blog post for another time!
This time the weather wasn’t so kind and whilst he is an astonishingly fast worker, even he ran out of time. He had to leave the roof and cover it with tarpaulin. This wasn’t ideal at all and, after a fierce storm, we received an email from our neighbour to say this was hanging off together with the baton in April 2015. Continue reading “The Roof Comes Off”→
Okay so gone are the days when you simple log onto Anglo Info and chose your particular region in France for research purposes. Sorry Anglo franchises the world over but it’s true. Yes, they are still a relative good source of information but nowhere near as good as the hundreds of facebook groups out there for living in France. Or any country for that matter. Continue reading “The Trouble With France Forums”→