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248. NITTY GRITTY NEWS

I recently came across a virtual invitation for coffee and since then have met and keep meeting new friendly American bloggers. I find they easily write poetry, play games at writing a story prompted by a silly picture posted by someone else... AND they also write about their nitty gritty daily lives like being pulled up by the police or having their computer crash down and the price of buying a new one. So today is my turn. I can't write poetry but I can tell at great length about my nitty gritty ordinary life.

 On Wednesdays I usually have my grandkids over for lunch and activities in the afternoon, learning how to sew with a sewing machine with my granddaughter and following an online course to learn English with my grandson. Looking after the two of them is very tiring so I asked to have one at a time in turns. Yes but the lady who takes Bertrand to my door said she had not been told of the change so... never mind, don't worry, thank you. Then Binta turned up surprised: aren't we doing sewing then? I had to decide to send one home to mom. Feeling slightly guilty. With Binta we walked over to the new Vietnamese restaurant with such yummy food you want to stay there for ever. At the table Binta told me about the new characters she invented for some story she's writing. Yes, she can write poetry and everything else... in French. Back in my little studio apartment I put on the CD of a master philosopher doing meditation classes in primary schools. I'm bent on teaching them to relax and meditate. Youngsters these days are overworked with school stuff, homework and reading. I'm also bent on teaching them about real life, sewing something for yourself to wear among other things.

Me, Frankie, with my red Irish sweater reading books in Belgium
Now I think it was on Thursday. I decided to drive to visit my cousin Henri who lives in a town some 20 km away. It was 6 o'clock and it was dark so I had my headlights on. So far so good. On the way past the first village my lights conked out. Just the moon outside. Phoned my son who lives 50 km away who came to the rescue. We drove back to Chateauroux bumper to bumper at slow speed and with my warnings blinking relentlessly. My car was born in 1981. At this grand age of 36 equivalent to 78 for humans (yes, you multiply by 3 for cars) it has the tendency to conk out without warning. I'm a bit younger than my car, turning 73 next March... so I know about conking out actually. After my slow trip to Charleroi in Belgium, in early December, being hosted by my cousin Franswah, and hanging around Brussels one day and going to a conference another day, plus three days of driving back home... I conked out completely and truly. I just couldn't stay awake. A bit like the sleeping beauty. As no prince came to wake me up I decided to get up after three weeks anyway. Not too many cobwebs in the chateau, just dirty laundry lying around, half empty traveling bag wide open on the floor. As I couldn't be bothered to cook for myself I went to the Vietnamese restaurant. They know me by now.
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