Posts Tagged ‘love’


10 July 2017


Somewhere to stay in France

Another day, another train.  Another train, another destination.

This time, we are heading for the south of France and our booked gite in a wee small town called Cahus.  A long story cut short, but the owners are old work colleagues and rellies of Debs Moffatt.  It should be a 2-3 hour journey then a couple of hours (note: this does not factor in potential got lost delays) in a rental car and Bob’s your uncle.


It was sad checking out of our Parisienne base, we have had a hectic but enjoyable 4 days exploring the city and avoiding the major tourist spots and the annoying crowds of rude people however we did relent by spending a day at Disneyland Paris (no longer Euro Disney apparently). Spaniards and Italians with their booming voices, the Japanese with their fucking sun umbrellas, stupefied looks and complete disregard of others around them and lastly those overly tattooed Pommie woman and their boyfriends/husbands all dressed up in their ‘leisurewear’. All ready to take the pitch and represent their favourite team, regardless of their physical unpreparedness.  I have yet to work out why the woman have tipped out their scrapbooks all over their bodies and had the mish-mash of drawings and sketches permanently inked for all to see.  No themes, no stories being told; just 10s of unrelated pictures in the loudest colours like some form of graffiti.  I don’t get it. Disneyland had 4 or 5 really good roller coasters and the queues were no bad at all with only 1 ride taking more than a half hour wait.

We managed to get lost every day.  Incomplete and erroneous maps are blamed but by asking/pleading for help, we managed to find most of the sights that needed to be seen.  A cultural day was had at the Louvre and Musee d’Orsay where we were able to see the famous paintings and sculptures on offer.  Very impressive.  The afternoon was topped off by getting lost for 2.5 hours trying to find the Hard Rock Café.  In the end, we stopped walking and took to the Metro but even then, we had to ask the Chemist for final directions.  The trip home was a lot smoother by sticking to the subterranean methods rather than legs up on the surface.

We went on a small tour party (3 of us and a driver) to the Palace of Versailles and then the afternoon in Giverny in the north to revisit Claude Monet’s home and garden.  We both enjoyed those and even though there was lots of walking to be done, sitting in an air-conditioned van in between was pretty good.  The van had a mechanical issue coming home where the cover that sits under the motor etc came off after a previous off track excursion had done some damage.  This meant a very slow trip home whilst the cover rubbed on the road sounding like a locomotive more than a diesel Mercedes van.

So we are off to the French wop wops; taxi to the train station, train to Limoges (about 3 hours), taxi to the airport because on a Sunday there is only one place to pick up the rental car …half a bloody hour out of town, source the car ….a bubble car (Holden Trax) then a 2 hour drive to our place …saw lots and had a ride that was as challenging on the neck and senses as anything Disney could fling at us.  Never mind, wine and smelly cheese saw us in bed at midnight.  Look out rural France, we have arrived and looking for some of that €3 wine we like.


V and Me (Jean Pierre)



27 February 2017

I had an eventful night last night which mostly I’m not keen on repeating.

Jumped into bed and apart from a bit of Linen Olympics from time to time, I normally like to go to sleep asap. No faffing about for me. But last night V returns from the kitchen with a story about the cockroach lying on his back but very alive that I ‘should’ remove from this world. Usual method is a free lesson from the Kerry school of Cockroach diving where diving lessons are held in a flushing toilet. Getting back in bed she then notices a spec on the ceiling that she believed to be a baby version of the kitchen cocky…. and I could get out of bed to dispatch it if I like. If I like my arse! I thought ignoring it was the best action but how wrong could I have been…. of course I would love to get out of bed again and dispatch it.

Once back in bed and light off with Linen Olympics even after all those ‘Brownie Point’ earning activities not likely until another day….the familiar sound of a bloody mosquito could be heard. I pretended not to hear it thinking if I did, she might too but from the other side of the bed I was advised that it wouldn’t go away by ignoring it and that I should alight from my bed and obliterate that fucker too ….which I kind of did. A quick brush of the headboard as I got back into bed dislodged a bit of fluff which then caused a loud scream from V as she thought some other creature was going to get her, launching a deadly attack from her pillow. I didn’t even comment on how the fluff got there so soon after the housework was supposedly done.

Meanwhile Jeff is in and out of the cat flap doing his Bruce Lee impersonations as he single handedly eradicates all stray cats from the yard. How dare they venture on his turf? Then once all lights are off once again and the obligatory good-nights are completed he starts that horrible cat scaring sound. The one that sounds like a child crying. It sounded awfully close. You guessed it…. I apparently would like to investigate. So once again, the sheets are flung aside and I made my way to the en-suite because that was where the noise was coming from we deduced. Surely another cat had not got inside? Opening the door slowly so I could catch the marauding stray and here Jeff the cat is, .sitting on the sink giving arse hole’s to the ginger tom in the mirror. Removing Jeff from the bathroom quietened him down and miraculously, the cat in the mirror disappeared too!

I am praying for a quieter night tonight or that Linen Olympics are held early.

I feel sick in the stomach every day.

I’m actually not sick.  I don’t need to go to a doctor.  I don’t need any medical help except for some sleeping pills maybe, but I’d prefer not to take anything like that.  It aches day and night but especially when I am on my own.  I am on my own more often than I’d like.

Getting over a relationship is apparently a very stressful event in one’s life.  I should know because nearly 13 years ago I worked through with my now ex wife.  It rips your heart out.  It rips it out, squeezes the last drop of life out of it and leaves you an emotional and physical wreck.  So to have to go over it all again is almost too much bear.

I am frightened, I am stressed. I am far from over my love.  There is nothing to hope for, there is nothing left.

Just when I think I am over another step in my self administered rehabilitation, I get news that my love had been playing me for a fool for the last half of our time together.  I am now worse off than I was when we parted so amicably because she was no longer a positive player in our relationship.  I now know I was always the third person in our couple, the public significant other when all along I was not her first choice.  I am now just plain embarrassed.  A fool, her muse, an idiot.

She told me she had had one of the best years of her life.  That had made me feel better about instigating our stop ‘n think session that lead to her discussing her displeasure of me as a long term partner with all her friends, workmates, clients and probably number 1 man before talking with me.  Little did I know, I had been replaced back in September and it was now January.  I was prepared to be told she wasn’t as happy as she’d been, I was somewhat resigned due to my frustration with her part of the relationship.  But fuck me.  I wasn’t ready to be replaced with a fully ‘moved in’ and ‘loved up’ partner within a fortnight.

I wished her all the best; I wanted nothing but the best for her.  Just because I no longer fitted the bill, was something I have learnt to accept over the years.  I am a hopeless romantic that believes in ever after.  I just can’t see that I am somewhat unique in this thinking.  I was ‘recovering’ well but shut off from her friends and family and that I had grown to love being with and believed that they felt similarly about me.  Gone too.  I was missing them more than her….or so I thought.

Trying to get on with my life but conscious not to just replace her, all I could think of were the lyrics to the Adele song;

Nevermind, I’ll find someone like you.

I wish nothing but the best for you too.

Don’t forget me, I beg, I remember you said:-

“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”, yay.


Nothing compares, no worries or cares.

Regret’s and mistakes they’re memories made.

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?


Nevermind, I’ll find someone like you.

I wish nothing but the best for you too.

Don’t forget me, I beg, I remembered you said:-

“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”



So my stomach aches only a little until I think of her youngest children whom I had grown to adore.  Teaching the boy about the art of shaving and polishing a car and the young lady about driving slightly drunk adults around town and sneaking fast food before mum found out. Her teaching me about being a young teen and all the neat stuff it brings.  Gone.  Looking after the chooks.  Mrs Crooked Beak and her 4 girlfriends became a big part of me and my time. Chasing cattle and sheep, dealing to thistles in the paddock or coaxing another few weeks out of the broken gates.  Gone and not coming back.  The below average sex, the shit tip they lived in, the mess, the muddle, the dirt.  No longer my problem.  Also gone.  They were easing from my mind to a degree but enough to ease my stomach.

But the knife to the heart was finding out about the lies and the cheating.  She denies it all.  She was more concerned about telling me she had moved in her new man.  Why would I give a shit … until I heard the lies and cheating that went on when were together.  It cut like a knife.

I am now hurting again.

I am embarrassed, shamed and alone. I am the unhappiest I’ve been in 13 years and yet 2 months ago, the happiest

in my life.

Love hurts.  Love hurts my stomach, my heart and the rest of my being.

Maybe I do need a doctor after all.





I loved you with all my heart.  My heart and my soul.

You often wondered how I knew and I tried to articulate in the simplest form but I never realised just how little you understood. How you had never experienced love like the love I had for you.  How many sorrows have you hidden?  The mist of illusion that covers your mind because of the hard facade you have developed to ‘protect’ you?

I tried to show you something good and I imagined you had opened up your mind.  I thought you may have seen and felt that feeling in the bottom of your stomach, that ache that is the miracle of love.  It can take away your pain, it can lift you above your worries when you open up your heart.  I tried to protect you from the bulls in the night, tried to stave off the tears for you and I tried to keep you warm when it was cold and take away the pain. But in vain as it seems, I should have just bought you bedsocks.

I thought that I could show you something good but you couldn’t open up your heart.  I prayed that the Jacaranda might flower, that our future might be what I was longing for but cruel is the night when those chilling thoughts occupy your mind.

I tried not to tell you that I loved you … that just gave away too much.  I didn’t want to say I wanted you … even though you knew that I wanted that so much.  And when I did, I would wake up happy, in your warm embrace.  The ache in my stomach was more of a tickle and I wanted nothing more. Your touch I took as acceptance, I’m sorry the bulls visited in the night. It must have been a long year for you.

Now as I try to move on the ache in my stomach is with me day and night and not a tickle but a dull ache.  Anger and jealous rage as you swipe me away like yesterday’s toast crumbs and move on with everyone else.  Morning and night then morning and night again I ache.  I hoped you might have grown up and been a better role model for the kids this time.  But as always, it is you first, second and third; others are not as important to you as they were me.

You are on and in my mind as I drive the familiar roads on my way to work.  But my journey is shorter now which adds to my sorrow.  All the sweetness has been taken from me and just a bitter after taste is all I sense now.  I have so many pictures and memories to erase, to knockdown and replace.  I struggle to see how I’m going to leave you behind but the bulls won again and what I had is now but a crumbling ruin.

Remember my dearest, if you open up your mind and you let someone in, the miracle that is love will come to you and it is the most fantastic feeling your heart and soul will ever have … I know from recent experience.

That’s why they call it the miracle of love.