We were parked up, and Alex nipped into the shop to grab a few bits on the way home from the beach. It was hot, and with our friend still staying, we took full advantage of the ‘beau temps’ (lovely weather) And had beached it up, it was now late. A Police car drives past super s l o w l y …I clock it, avoid eye contact, guilty , always guilty...Anyway, after 3 fines in the last month, I could do with there being no more, frankly. Lola is in the front of the car, the driver’s seat, we are doing her homework, as we’d only just remembered to do (it’s always everything last minute here). Today, the gods and the donkeys are NOT smiling on me. The Police car parks over the road, the Police men get out, Monty shouts, ‘hey mum, there’s 2 Policemen coming up to the car’ ,‘oh f*****g brilliant’ is my response.
They tap on the car, I smile and do the ‘is there a problem orrifices?’ I mean officers?’ to which they tell me they are looking for the owner of the car I am in, er, well, I am not being funny, but to have stolen the car I am in, well, I would just not have, I’d have at least chosen wisely, not a chicken hoof scratched, burned out gypsy wagon. As if? But I refrain from telling them this and declare I am in fact the proud owner. ‘Would you step out of the vehicle please madame?’ Here we go, and again, I cry internally this time, ‘oh f*****g briliant’. I step out, and they make me stare long and hard at the wheels that are bald. ‘Oh, so they need hair?’ I ask, trying to lighten the mood. But there’s no lightening their mood, they’re on a mission. ‘That’s 250€ fine and the vehicle stays put till the wheels are changed.’ One of the officers informs me. I very, very, I swear, it was touch and go for a minute, nearly broke down on the spot, like a full on nervous mental breakdown as well. I begin falling to knees to BEG pose, beg like a desperate broken woman, life beaten out of her by chickens and kids and ducks who keep flying away to freedom (lucky bastards, note to self, fashion wings for myself, learn to quack, and p*ss off).. then I realise their scam, they're fully doing the ‘good cop, bad cop’ that old chestnut. The other police dude sees my look of vacant despair, 4 kids running a mock in the car, takes pity and says, well, normally, it’s that, but we’ll give you a second chance, you have 2 weeks to change them, then we’ll come round and check they’re done. I ‘phew’ out loud, ready to plant a smacker on the kind(er) policeman’s lips…I did not, but did thank them for like ages and ages, and gave my address, and the ‘bad cop’ raises his eyebrows and says he’ll be round in 2 weeks…Goodo. But at least we avoided another fine.
I shall bake muffins and display proudly the new tyres (which we will have to pull out of bottoms, maybe I’ll make some, Mac Gyver it), and then never be bothered again by the effing Police...? Well, till the next time.
|The man himself....|
So work still is not happening, but I am motivated, searching, and studying (doing a TEFL course, which I actually started 2 years ago, so at this rate, by the time I am 88 I should have about covered it). So I just have to be patient, and carry on as I am, and see how it goes. I have also got back into my art in a BIG way recently, it is very cathartic I find, and with the kids back at school, I am able to find an hour here and there to throw myself into it. And it feels good. I am doing something productive, if I cut my own ear off I may even make some money, oh no, actually it wasn’t till he was dead too, so scrap that. And it’s just for me too, so it’s a positive thing.
As we speak, Esmie has stuck some stickers over her teeny baby nipples and her belly-button, she’s slapping her belly button going ‘looook at my boobies and my bewwy button, nah nah nah nah nah...' Well, you win some, you lose some…
Have a Fabulous day all,
See you tomorrow,
Tamsybn x *sees typo, but prefers her name spelt this way, changes it up a bit *