Sticks and Stones 24

I just spoke to Suzie, who needs my laser printer to retain information from the internet on ethnic minorities within sectors of south-west London, and to photocopy the receipt from the damned travel agent so that I can claim on my insurance.
Meanwhile, I’ve just come back from a meeting with the dole people, who told me I need to go to three different places to get pieces of paper to verify who I am, then go back, at which time, if all papers are present, it will take at least five weeks to get a response. The nice lady, also an Aries and quite pretty, told me not to hold my breath (because of my circumstances) and we said farewell.
Funnily enough, I bumped into Jeff on leaving. He was after free transport, but the paper he needed had expired. Initially, he was told that he needed to book a rendez-vous to get the up-to-date paper he needed to travel free, but after a short time in which Jeff flapped his neat pile of paperwork and told them that he needed the paper there and then for a possible job, he was asked to wait.
I picked up my stuff from the bar, drove it back and lugged it up to the flat and now I’m thinking about what to do with the day.
I went back to the house in Giroussens, but it didn’t go well.
Whilst playing the new Elefun, in which little pieces of butterfly-imitation fabric fly out from an elephant’s trunk by way of battery-fed combustion, Maddy said she wanted to go to Leclerc to get Mummy a present, and I clicked way too late. ‘It’s her birthday tomorrow,’ I said, trying to sound as if I had known all the time.
‘Don’t tell me you’d forgotten Mummy’s birthday, Jim?’ she replied, with an incredulous look on her face.
I tried to lie but she’d already seen my expression of useless bewilderment.
‘Yeah, but I only forgot for a moment, Maddy. I’ve got a present for her back at the flat already,’ I said sheepishly. She can always tell when I fib.
It appeared that Clara had understood, too, because when Maddy and Griff trotted upstairs to tell their Mummy I’d forgotten, she stomped off with them, leaving me holding the trunk of the elephant.
I went upstairs to see Suzie, who lay in bed with her seven pillows, two duvets, remote control and dressing gown. She was clearly unimpressed with my entrance.
‘Hi, Suze,’ I said. ‘I’m taking the children to Leclerc to get some presents for you. How old will you be? Forty-two, isn’t it?’
In the process of saying this, I’d managed to snuggle into bed next to her.
‘What was it you wanted? A foot spa, no? I’ll get you one,’ I whispered to her.
‘You forgot, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘You forgot it was my birthday.’
Maddy and Griff’s ears pricked as they pretended to watch Tarzan at the edge of the bed with Clara.
‘I remembered yesterday but forgot as soon as I got here,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Suzie. Just let me take the kids to Leclerc and we’ll find something nice for you.’
She forgave me, but there were still hot embers from the fire in her mind.
We left for Leclerc at fiveish and the children were brilliant.
On the way, I had a proper chat with Maddy about school and her hopes. I told her that I’d rather she didn’t have to return to school until we were settled in England, and she seemed pleased. Griff decided he wanted the same terms as Maddy and I reminded him how much he loved his school, but he was less than happy.
Tomorrow, Suzie’s birthday, was also their first day back at school, and I realised then that getting him to school would be a nightmare issue.
Griff got Suzie a Parker pen, Maddy got her a photo frame and Clara got her a photo album. I looked and looked for the foot spa, but there weren’t any, so we did a run around the food area and left after an ice cream at the cafeteria.
Looking back now, they were all remarkably well behaved, and I feel awful being away from them.
The next morning went badly. Suzie and I had stayed up late watching the brilliant ‘Catch Me If You Can’ on telly and neither of us wanted to make the first move from bed to reality.
I fell back to sleep with Clara for an hour, but that hour cost me dear.
It voided the promise I’d made last night to cook her a full English breakfast, and I was as guilty as the sloth in Ice Age.
Maddy and Griff, who had been allowed to stay home for their Mummy’s birthday, announced that they’d like to play on the Playstation, to which their Mummy agreed.
‘Oh, that’s great,’ I said, with a lazy lilt. ‘They get to skip school again and end up playing on that bloody machine all day.’
That was all the ammunition she needed.
‘I’ve been clearing up downstairs for the last hour while you stay in bed and you have the nerve to tell the children off!’ She was fuming. ‘All you do when you come over is cook, eat and watch TV in bed with Clara. Oh, and you sleep. You couldn’t even remember my birthday, let alone a sodding fry-up!’
I left with immediate effect after Suzie started slating my every action. She didn’t want her birthday spoiled any more.
It wasn’t even lunchtime, and I didn’t know where to go or what to do, so I went to the bar in the old village, as I usually do at times like this. My mouth felt like an ashtray but the petit crème and roll-up put paid to that.
It seemed, by now, that Suzie was intent on making me out to be the Bad Dad to the children, the lazy good-for-nothing with promises but no back-up, and I could do nothing about it but leave defeated again and again.
I resolved to go to Assedic, from where I had to extract one of the three pieces of paper needed to apply for RMI. This particular piece of paper proved that I was ineligible for ‘chomage’, which would effectively entitle me to the lowest of the low; Revenu Minimum d’Insertion, which, as I now understood, reached the colossal heights of 372 euros a month.
The young lady at the counter did everything for me. It took a push, but I left with not only one piece of paper but dozens, and she had made me sign twice on important looking bits of paper, both of which she retained.
It felt good leaving there, especially when she gave me a sparkling smile and a hair-flick.
The day went downhill from there.
I had a tremendously overpowering need to gamble and drink, so I went to the PMU bar and started placing bets on horses. After losing three hundred euros, I waltzed out half-cut and made bets of a hundred each on an accumulator of Arsenal v Man Utd (with Arsenal winning or drawing) and Real Madrid beating Bilboa. If I won, I’d recoup my day’s losses.
From there, I went home, but not for long.