So, if you haven’t already done so please go back to Part I or not. Up to you! So I left you on collating evidence and without further ado we shall look at the next steps to be taken.
Initially my ex would email me various shit settlement options which were all heavily weighted in his favour #shocker. At the time, I was volunteering at the Resto du Coeur, one of the many things I did during that separation year to improve my French. In addition going on a 4 month intensive GRETA language course which I was not allowed to do prior to the divorce.
Granted, it’s not quite the ‘living the dream’ life goals that we all aspire to – I had dreamed of beach walks, holding hands, having lazy lunches, and much more but hey, every day’s a school day! Instead of the aforementioned dream life in France, I have possibly experienced every level of French administration that you could endure wish for. Character building some might say. And, let’s be honest, I had my fair share before my divorce if anyone has read this blog. Do they still call it blogging? It’s been so long I am now a content creator – old school with no AI.
I can proudly say I think I have achieved my imaginary Expert French Administration Badge. So, when someone says (in a Normandy FB group), in all seriousness, watch out for getting over charged in Lidl – I mentally give that the finger a novice entry level badge of French inconvenience. Coupled with a ffs are you kidding me?! Don’t be coming at me with that kind of nonsense – you need to be fully immersed in a separation, divorce, CAF, huissiers, police complaints and much more before you’re going to get any mild tea and sympathy from me
Okay maybe not so much our babies anymore – actually nearly fully grown adults but as many a parent will tell you, they will always be our babies. What I want to talk about is the impact on our young Britons living in France post Brexit. Given that my own children have been here a wet week, by some stalwart standards, many have lived here a very long time and plenty of which were born here. Or certainly moved at a young age. In any event, they are all treated the same – British Nationals living in France.
Wow, what an absence from writing but I do have some very good excuses for you all so bear with! As ever, you will all need to do a spell check for me as you all know how I like to hit publish before I re-check anything.
So my last post was about the problems you may encounter with regard to the language barrier. It came from a place, whereby, in actual fact it was my French (level B1/B2) that was bringing up the rear in the family. I subsequently went on a four month intensive language course from March to June last year which including a three week work placement at a local company. I enjoyed this course immensely and I have no hesitation whatsoever in recommending it. I will, of course, write a separate post about what it entails etc and how you can go about finding something similar.
So whilst doing this course, I carried on with my usual social media work which left me little room to do much else. I also separated from Mr Normandy at the start of the year and we are in the process of divorcing. This also took up a great deal of time. I will not write about the ins and outs of this for the time being but will, after the process, write about how you go about getting a divorce in France as British nationals and all that it entails. That has probably been the main reason why I have not been able to write as I would have liked to.
However, I am back! We are now a unit of 4 here in rural Normandy and I am also involved with a project with a person that makes living in Normandy the best fun it can possibly be – Alex. Whilst last year was certainly difficult it was also a lot of fun!
Together, we have set up France By Mistake – a spin off if you like! We will be recording youtube videos and later a podcast about life here in Normandy, France. If you are wondering about the name – it stems from the film Withnail and I where there is a scene in which they say to the farmer, whilst it is pissing down with rain (as standard for Normandy), “we’ve gone on holiday by mistake!” – we both love that film and thought it was a fitting name for our new venture so voilà ! Do come on over to our facebook page, instagram and subscribe to our youtube channel. I will still be writing articles on here and you will find my daily life (if it is of interest!) over on my instagram page of the same name.
See you soon!
With Nail And I – “we’ve gone on holiday by mistake!”
Okay I will refrain from my normal joke…oh I can’t I’m sorry….getting a French licence out of a Christmas Cracker. There I’ve said it. Now that’s out of the way we can get down to the actual way you can obtain your driving licence. I’m writing this from my own experience of getting my teenager – Master Normandy – en route to obtaining his driving licence.
So whilst I may be somewhat of an angry *Elf at the moment I still thought I’d crack this one out about how your language or lack of language abilities can affect your relationship. I’m fairly confident that this is never mentioned when talking about moving to France. When do they ever talk about the bitterness and resentment that stem from one person ploughing on with the language, whilst the other languishes behind on A Place In The Sun? I rest my case.
A nonchalant French bird who flies when he wants to irrespective of a fast approaching vehicle!
So I thought I’d do a light-hearted post about death and what not. Now I appreciate that on the face of it, it probably doesn’t seem too light-hearted but believe me, I think you’ll enjoy this one about flattened animals along the empty roads of Normandy. Well let’s hope so.
Before I begin, I must say I don’t particularly enjoy seeing various animal species KO’d on my local roads, however, it does make for some interesting driving and seeing which poor bugger didn’t make it to the other side. Also, I’ve never seen such a variety of animals and birds albeit dead. I’m a city mouse and now I’m a country mouse – the last time I saw a hedgehog in the UK was probably in the 1980s. In fact, I think they are extinct there now. I see them on a weekly basis here, albeit flattened as a pancake. Interesting fact – I do believe they are eaten in the south of France assuming before they are flattened.
I mean you don’t really have to be living in France to feel a little homesick at the moment right? Or British. You may be living away from your mothership, where you were born and bred and you may well have been in exile for many years. But for some, even those hard core ex-pats/immigrants, who are a dab hand at the living in a different country or countries, rocking the language, culture – even they might want to ‘nip’ back – where ever back is? To see friends and family. But no one is ‘nipping’ back anywhere, anytime soon.
Whoah there sister! This one’s going to be a bit controversial fun wouldn’t you say?! This is a touchy subject in this ‘ere household. So I thought what better way, than to put out the embers, than to hit ‘publish’. I’m joking of course this is going to set it alight like billyo – best the neighbours close their shutters. Are your strapped in? Yes, so let me begin.
Our Normandy Life 