Tonight I had to cycle a mile to find an open bakery so I could buy a baguette and a millefeuille.
This is quite astonishing in a city where you may find a bakery roughly every hundred meters (as well as a bar and a hairdressing salon – which would portray us fairly accurately as vain, alcoholic bread-eaters, but that’s another story…).
By mid-July, like all other French cities, mine has been deserted and shut down, to be re-opened for service around late August. In fact, the whole of France has pretty much ground to a halt, as everyone is away on holiday, getting rained on in Brittany, snowed on in the Alps, knocked down by waves on the south-western Atlantic coast, or methodically sun-burnt on the Mediterranean coast.
Meanwhile, I seem to be going through a personal kind of Summer shut-down, almost as if, after 7 months of roller-coaster, I had gone into some sort of emotional strike. Over the last week, I have gradually been withdrawing within myself, leaving a man I had become quite close to baffled on the sidelines. The thing is, even I don’t understand myself, so how could anyone else be expected to make sense of it all?
Whatever the reason, I need some time on my own. I have managed to stay out of T’s way for a while, work has settled down again and I passed my probation (yeepee!), the house buying is coming along nicely, and housework has halved since my son has been away for three weeks with my parents.
As a result, life has slowed down to something manageable, and I am enjoying a bit of peace inside and out. I really hope this new phase can last a little while, so I can rest my tired brain and achy heart…