Kitty Chat

It's hard being a parent sometimes, especially a single parent with no 'emotional support', see? By leaving my husband I also left the person I could discuss problems and concerns with, things that had to do with the children. That was my choice, I don't regret it but... sometimes... I wish I had someone I could talk things over with. I feel very insular and isolated here in France from time to time.

Anyway. I have been dead stressed over my eldest daughter's hearing. It has gotten worse and worse over the last few months until it was so obvious that I had to take to the Doctor. He refered us to an Audiologist and we discovered she has a loss of hearing of 50%! He put her on a 10-day course of treatment (so each morning and night: two antibiotics, drops in her ears and a nasal spray) with the explanation that she would have to have an operation at some point to put grommets in her ears and the sooner the better.

So today (Friday) was the day we went back to find out when they would schedule the operation since school is starting in three weeks, he wanted to do it as soon as possible so her ears could heal before school started. He also needed to check the hearing loss again and generally give us more information.

He was very pleased with the progress when he did the internal ear examination.

Now the hearing test... astonishing!

Her hearing loss gone from a loss of hearing of 50% down to a loss of ONLY 0.5%!!!

He says that her hearing should completely return with no further intervention on our part. So NO operation, NO more treatment. She is back to almost normal. Amazing.

I walked out of the Polyclinic and just burst into tears I was so relieved.

Pre-Menstrual Tension (or Pre-Menstrual Syndrome in the USA,) is something that effects most women. Men don’t understand how it can affect us as human beings. For me, it has always been like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde scenario; I tend to be that badly affected. One moment I am fairly logical and rational with a reasonable grasp of what is going on around me and a sane and levelheaded approach to life and my relationships with other people. But whoa howdy, let me get that whoosh of female hormones coursing through my bloodstream and I become as bi-polar as they come.

This has a major effect on my dealings with other people.

If I was to go back, in my life, and find all the biggest mistakes I have made, all the times I have been so illogical as to cause a Vulcan to squirm, all the times I have so screwed up, it will almost always and with great certainty be during the time just before my menses. When I am PMT. So if you were to couple that with Internet access, you have a disaster waiting to happen…

(Now Kitty, you promised to stop flailing yourself…so cut it out. Oh, >>sigh<< nevertheless… Right then, moving swiftly along…)

This month, for the first time since I was 12 or the times I have been pregnant or breastfeeding… nothing happened.

Nada… zilch. I didn’t even get remotely uptight at anything the last few days, the days I have charted as when I should be flaring up at a hangnail or a perceived slight from a gnat or something else as silly and insane. Really, I am heinous when I am PMT, I admit it. Well, that is, I used to be that way, now I am just calm all the time. I didn’t even get too bothered when I found out two pairs of my knickers had been stolen off the laundry line today. They are far, far too big anyway. I was using them for dusters so it’s not like I will miss them, it’s just odd they went missing out of a line of clothes. Why steal a couple pair of old cotton knickers? Hmmm…

Anyway, this medication is obviously working as I have chilled right out. The Paroxétine treats both depression and PMT it turns out. My blood pressure is back down to 130/80, my resting heart rate is down to 72 and I haven’t taken any angina medicine for over two weeks now. Plus the added bonus that I stayed completely sane and rational for a full month, without having to be pregnant or breastfeeding. This is a bonus.

Not that I minded being pregnant or all those months I breastfed all three children, a whopping 50 plus months I spent breastfeeding… bloody hell. My Dad once remarked as I was breastfeeding my son, “Do you ever feel a little bit like a Holstein Cow?” I replied, “Heck no, cows only get milked twice a day.” He found that really quite amusing. (Sorry son, but you were a greedy gut… 18 months, geez. I thought I would still be feeding you in Kindergarten…)

(I am lucky that my son has my sense of humour, huh, Tomcat? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more…)

So, calm, reasonable, sane and level-headed all month long. Add to that the fact that I feel on top of things and am not in the least depressed. I suppose I can deal with the fact I have no sex drive whatsoever. It’s not as if I need it at the moment. Ho-hum, I guess that I am now a Female Eunuch.

Well, a small price to pay for rationality, I think.

This is a recipe that Ruby gave me. It is very, very more-ish. It’s like a cross between a soup and a stew and is vegetarian. I have only altered it slightly to take advantage that the split Moong dhal is sold in 500g packages. This alteration uses half a 500g bag.

 

250g moong dhal (washed well in a fine sieve until no more colour comes off)

1 teaspoon salt

2 onions, chopped

1 ½ litres water

60 ml oil

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 teaspoon black mustard seeds

4 cloves garlic, chopped

180ml chopped tomatoes (I use tinned)

2 teaspoons turmeric

2 teaspoons garam masala

2 teaspoons chilli powder (I use ground cayenne)

 

Place washed dhal, salt, onions and water in a large saucepan and bring to the boil. Lower heat and simmer for 30 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes or so to prevent sticking.

 

Meanwhile, as the dhal cooks, heat the oil in a frying pan. Add the cumin, mustard seeds and garlic. Cook, stirring constantly for two minutes or until the garlic turns opaque. Add the tomatoes, turmeric, garam masala and chilli powder/cayenne. Cook for an additional two minutes or so. Add to the moong dhal when it is finished simmering and stir in well. Allow to cook for an additional five minutes.

When I first moved into this HLM, Habitation Lodgement Moderation or French Council flat, I had some trouble with one of my neighbours being, shall we say, ‘overly friendly.’ This guy, I’ll call him Feel-leep, creeps me out to the maximum. My situation accentuated by the fact that he speaks English so I can’t just pretend I don’t understand him. I have to pass his flat either coming or going from my flat or else take a huge detour down and around the back of the buildings. Last year, he was always ‘just popping out to the shops’ as I passed by his flat. “Oh hello, I will walk with you,” was his standard line when I was going up to the top. At the time, I didn’t want to be rude as I had just moved in and didn’t really want to be making enemies so quickly.

But the day I turned around in my kitchen to find him standing right behind me, in MY kitchen, no knock on the door, no invitation, he had just walked right in; THAT was the day I lost it with him. He was just standing there leering at me, swaying slightly, slightly drunk and wanted to know if I wanted to share a petite verre with him. I told him no, to get out and to never, ever walk into my house again. EVER. He had no idea why I was so upset. I was so pissed off I could hardly speak straight. I told him I was a single woman with two small girls and I did not want a strange man in my house. “But I am not strange, I am your voisin! I too am alone; we should be friendly, you and me, yes?” NO. No, no, no. Now please leave. I opened the door wide, waved him out and closed it behind him. Then just stood there, my heart pounding, scared and frightened because my space had been violated.

At the time, a friend suggested he come over and punch his lights out for me. Now I wish I had taken him up on the offer.

So the other night, as I was walking back to my flat with my girls, again I was accosted by this strange man. “Come and share a petite verre with me, yes?” Before I could say no, but thank you, my children ran into his house to play with his kids. So I thought, OK, I will sit with this guy for five minutes and then go home, what harm could come of this, right?

Wrong.

He had one of those 3 litre barrels of red wine that will guarantee you a hangover with just one sip. He washed out a glass, put it in front of me, then proceeded to spill red wine all over the table, the floor and my jeans. That he managed to get any in the glass was surprising. I let it just sit there, no way was I touching a drink given to me by this guy.

He blathered on about how he was so lonely, how he was crying at night, how he saw me walk by every day. That we had so much in common, he and I, we both had children but we were both without a partner, alone in the world. But I would understand him, that I was alone as well and he cries every night in his bed, all alone…

Oh shit. This guy is coming onto me? Get me the hell out of here now.

Then he started moving closer, punctuating every few sentences by leaning forward and touching my leg. I moved back, he moved forward. “We should be friendly, you and I. We have our children and they play together, yes? We have so much in common together, you are right here as my neighbour. We can be close, yes?”

No, I don’t think so. No, I do not wish to be close to you. My heart was hammering in my chest, I felt panicked and very afraid. He was full of Dutch Courage, was going to take advantage of the fact I was sitting right there and now I was kicking myself for even walking across the threshold.

I finally stood up and said, “I do not wish to be close with you. I have my own life, I am a very private person and I do not want to change this. I do not want to be rude, but I don’t want a petite verre with you again.” Then I walked out. He called after me, “OK, see you again sometime!” He obviously didn’t get it.

So today when my eldest was asking if she could go over and play with Feel-Leep’s kids, I tried to explain why I really didn’t want them to spend as much time there and certainly not in his house. “I do not like Feel-Leep. He annoys me and he is acting strange.” “He wants to be your boyfriend, Mummy. He is always saying that he could be our Father and would we like that.”

WHAT?????? When did he say this? Why haven’t you told me before?

“Because we know you don’t like him and we don’t want him to be our Daddy, he isn’t our Daddy. He says it to us all the time, that we can act like he is our Father, but we don’t want to.”

Oh, this puts a serious new twist on things. He is trying to get to me through my children? How vile and despicable. I now feel anxious and trapped, in a way. I can’t move from here, but at the moment, I really want to do just that.

On the other hand, we can’t run away from our problems, we have to meet them, face them and conquer them, head on. So I will do just that. It will mean I have to be rude and nasty but I feel my safety and security is threatened and I will not put up with that, I have come too far.

What I could really do with right now is my Knight in Shining Armour to come riding up to my flat on his magnificent steed and take me away from all this.

Or failing that, I could do with a significant Lottery win. Then I could buy a Knight in Shining Armour.

And a tummy-tuck.

What a lovely day!

Maestro and Tebee picked up the girls and me at 11.30 on Saturday and we drove on to Quatre Vaux at St Cast-Le-Guido, near FoxyLoxy’s place. We turned up to find most everyone already arrived and the people who had gotten there early had secured an excellent part of the beach, it wasn’t as crowded as thought and they didn’t even need those sun-loungers draped with German flags after all.

 

Salamander was there with her husband, sister and a friend. Ploppy with her husband and son. Foxy and Al, of course. Fitfeet and his family. JoB was there with her husband. I finally was able to meet MillyMollyMandy and her husband, who graciously cooked all of my chicken satays for me. Jigglypuff and her two sons arrived after doing some last-minute Guerrilla shopping. (You try going into a supermarket near the beach on a nice weekend day and tell me a different term for it!) There were other people but these are the only ones I actually knew or met… and can remember their names! Some people who said they were coming didn’t show up, probably because the weather the day before had been so foul. However, it was a truly glorious day! I have the sunburn to prove it…

 

I brought a plate of charcuterie, sliced cucumbers and a punnet of cherry tomatoes. I also did two types of chicken satay with a homemade peanut sauce. I used turkey instead of chicken as it was on promo and sliced it in long strips before threading it on wet bamboo skewers. If I had done chicken, I probably would have done chunks instead. I got the recipes from Darina Allens’ excellent cookbook ‘Ballymaloe Cookery Course’. I use it a lot, its chocka with excellent ideas and techniques.

 

Here are the recipes I used for the two different types of Satay and the Peanut Sauce.

For each marinade:

500g Chicken meat, skinned and boned (but I used turkey breast)

20 or so Bamboo skewers (soaked in water overnight to prevent burning on the BBQ)

 

Malaysian Chicken Satay Marinade

2 teaspoons ground turmeric

½ teaspoon garam masala

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon brown sugar

Juice of one lemon

 

Indonesian Chicken Satay Marinade

1 garlic clove, crushed

2 shallots or one small onion, finely chopped

2 tablespoons light soy sauce

1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon ground coriander

1 tablespoon lemon juice or red wine vinegar

 

Peanut Sauce

175g peanuts (Darina calls for raw, unsalted Spanish peanuts that you then roast in a dry pan, rubbing the skins off when cool but I think that’s a bit of a fiddle so I just used roast salted peanuts. You could also use ‘Natural’ chunky peanut butter, the kind that is just peanuts and salt. That would give good results as well.)

50g onion, chopped

2 garlic cloves

¼ teaspoon chilli powder

1 rounded teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon peanut oil

1 tablespoon tamarind paste

Juice of one lemon

50g Demerara sugar

1 tablespoon cornflour mixed into 300 ml water

 

First mix all the marinade ingredients together. Cut up the chicken into small 2.5cm cubes or long strips. Place in a bowl and season with the marinade. Marinate overnight.

Puree the peanuts in a food processor until they are just slightly gritty. Add the onion, garlic, chilli powder and salt. Whizz together a few minutes.

 

Heat the peanut oil in a shallow frying pan. Add the peanut mixture and fry over a medium heat until the peanut mixture begins to take on a ‘golden colour’ stirring constantly. Don’t allow it to scorch. Add the tamarind paste, lemon juice and sugar and mix well. Then add the cornflour mixture and simmer until the sauce thickens. Serve hot or cold.

 

Thread pieces of chicken onto the skewers for ¾ of the length. Cook the chicken for 15-20 under a pre-heated grill or over a barbecue, turning to ensure even cooking. Serve with Peanut Sauce.

 

After we had eaten, around 4.30 or so, as the huître and moule boats came in; Ploppy’s husband went and bought several dozen oysters, which we all consumed with gusto and a splash of lemon! I LOVE oysters and it’s true, they do have an extreme aphrodisiac effect on me. Erm, well, let me say; in the right company, they have an effect on me. I’ll just slurp them down for now, and save up the effect. Then, when I finally am in the right company, darlin’, watch out!

Now... if you are not in France and you do NOT have little girls between the ages of say, 3 and 12 then the term Fiche Diddl (pronounced feesh deeDELL) will have no meaning to you.

So here is what it is:

Its a flippin' mouse. It is also a big deal. What the gig is, little girls collect pieces of paper with this mouse 'Diddl' or his girlfriend 'Diddlina' and they put them in a folder called a 'Cahier de Fiches Diddl'...

It's a phenomenon, here in Brittany at least.

Think Star Wars but with far, far better marketing....

Diddle scotch tape, Diddle crayons, Diddle rulers, Diddle make-up, Diddle stationary, Diddle folders, Diddl backpacks, Diddle sandals, Diddle soap, Diddlina perfume, Diddle shampoo, Diddle sheets, Diddle pillowcases...

You get the idea...

The girls and I took a bike ride yesterday to the longere. (Ow! Bum cheeks hurt today!) I needed to clean out the caravan as Lee is picking it up next week. We have sold it to him and, stupid person that I am, I suggested he give the money to my ex since he seemed so broke. So who now has their landline back on and internet access again? Not Kitty, thats for sure! Grrr! You think he would have spent it on food... and fags, of course.  But heh, what the heck, right? It's his life, certainly not mine... anymore.

It was odd, being back in the caravan. I haven't spent any time there since last year and being there brought back some of the emotion I had felt last year. It will be good to get rid of it. That time period from 26 July to mid-September represents such an awful period in my life that any trace of a memory of how I was, especially the persona I became, I long to erase from the face of the Earth. (The bit from mid-September to mid-May was pretty grim too... but I digress...)

So farewell caravan. Scene of some happy holidays and some tragic events. I hope the people you have next as owners enjoy you. I for one, am happy to see you go.

(Of course it also means no one can 'live' at the longere... which is fine by me...)