Post PACS depression

I just thought I'd google it to see whether this was a common event. It was in the end quite a Laurel and Hardy moment, one lady with thick set glasses who seemed to know what she was doing, and another not managing to type our details into the computer. They had to cope with an American man born in France, but not French, and then a British woman who's just plain British. Maybe its just the anticlimax of 6 months of document gathering, including a "certificat de non pourvoi" from the "Cour de Cassation" to prove that my partner's ex wife hadn't filed a suit against him in the 5 days following their divorce. It took 2 months to come through. Apparently your divorce certificate isn't worth anything without this document. Anyway, it felt very clinical, slightly tragic-comic and all in all rather depressing...

I am now hitched.

The snag in France is that if the other person dies, your civil partnership dies with them. Make sure your other half writes a will if this is the romantic way you decide to commit to each other for life...

Tomorrow I am due to do a Paris-Brussels-Paris-Limoges in 3 days, and I just want to wrap myself up in my duvet and watch the Bake Off. With a large pack of pink donuts. Followed by a bit of Janet Evanovich....?

I'm getting married in the morning

Actually its a PACS, but thought I would post a celebratory notice?

Sunday - expat day of gloom

The shops are shut, all the families are united around their dinner tables, and the expats fend for themselves.

I have a few cards up my sleeve - the nearby Café Litteraire does lunch and music - either the local star Robert de Miro, who I think uses the same hair dye as me, while we munch. Or recently I witnessed a Bal Dansant, average age about 80, all in sparkles and pearls, and literally having a ball. It was contagious. That happened to be Anna's 3rd birthday and we danced till we dropped.

I have also bought up all available tickets to the local kids theatre, snatched them up in September, as they sell out by early October. Just witnessed a small theatrical marvel, best thing I've seen in grown up and children's entertainment in the past year... Jakart Company, go like them on Facebook, go find them, go see them.

And just when you think you're Sunday hasn't been too claustrophobic, just when you've bumped into a local mum from the nursery and exchanged pleasantries, with hope of perhaps a future cup of coffee or invite, Anna decides to have a melt down over not putting her coat on at the exit, and my hopes of afternoon playdates with Hugo and mum flies out the window...

Weekend, feet on the ground

A travel free week, and now a husband free weekend, so feet firmly on the ground, as we set off today for a parents and kids singalong session in the deep dark French countryside. 4 sets of expat mums with varying numbers of offspring, in a barn, singing and miming to songs from the Sound of Music, The Jungle Book, and some other old favourites. I wonder if it was more for the parents, but actually not, I think we all forgot ourselves in song for about an hour.

This is a rarity, in France where the family rules, and weekends are for kin, not for adventure. And in the same barn we can learn the art of Reiki. This is on my wishlist for my upcoming birthday present, as is the inflatable husband my friend has offered to lend me in lieu of the one I rarely see at the moment.

Live from my attic in Limoges

Life-Work-Play, the biggest damn question of them all. Before I gave birth on 1st February 2013 I hadn't really considered having to give priority to anyone except me.  Then 7lb Anna arrived in my life and nothing was to be simple ever again.

Its about time to record how I balance a full time job, international travel, an office 200 miles away, a husband who pops in and out of the house, and a 3 year old daughter. Before it all falls apart...