Happy Ever After

I've been a right little bi-lingual social guru since my last post, and if any of you have been waiting for an update (thanks Kel xx), apologies for the late response. It would appear that I seem to have become rather good at doing very little. Indeed, so much so that I just don't know where the days are going? "In a haze of red wine!", I hear some of you cynical doubters cry. Not true I can assure you. I've actually been rather busy talking. Quelle surprise!

My recent forays into the local ex-pat and French communities have left me with all sorts of Carrie Bradshaw-esque questions about life and relationships, albeit of the non-sexual variety, that I could head up my latest post with. And although I might be sitting here casually typing into my laptop with my NGBF (no not New Gay Best Friend, rather New Glass-Best Friend) next to me, I tell you now I'm certainly not sitting here in Agent Provocateur knickers and Jimmy Choos. I mean do you know how bleeding cold these Farmhouses can get? I'm more a hoodie and jeans type of gal. This aint no city after all folks, and well urrrhhh...there isn't really an enormous amount of sex (before any of you get too excited). I prefer to think of it as more of a"Booze in the Country" type setting. Nevertheless, like dear old Cazza, I've been spending the last week or so drinking coffee (and some wine, naturally) with numerous ladies discovering how le vie Francais has been treating them.

Interestingly, I've been lead to believe that the so-called "good life" en France tends to end in divorce. Another good reason not to be married then! I'll be sure to scribble that on a post-it and stick on the fridge before bed.

It would appear that selling up in the UK and moving over here without the stress of long working days, rush hour traffic, and not enough quality time with the family, was actually the key to keeping couples married in the first place. Now with time on their hands it seems a great many would rather call it a day, having realised that life was infact better when they didn't see each other as much. To the point where divorce is a more endearing prospect.

The thing is I can totally see where they're coming from. I've been keeping myself very busy what with mother and toddler groups, coffee mornings, French lessons and of course being a domestic goddess(!). Roy has been busy getting on with whatever he does on that laptop all day long (I jest of course, it's something to do with networks, I think) meaning that post dinner we have quality time to spend together, catching up on our respective days, sharing our hopes and dreams for the future and planning our lives together. Except of course I tend to fall asleep on the sofa around 9pm due to a serious lack of reality TV programmes in my mother tongue for me to gorge over, and maybe because that deadly combination of log fire, blanky on the sofa and a smooth glass of red leaves me feeling, rather, yawwwnnn..., sleepy. Who said romance was deadzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz?

p.s. Coming up in the next mind numbing blog-isode of "My Little Life" - discover how I get on at the French mother's circle. Does Rafferty deck petite Margot? Do I manage to (accidentally) insult any of the mums? And why does the whole room suddenly go deathly silent when you finally pluck up the courage to parle en Francais. The words "tumble" and "weed" spring to mind!