Chestnutted

I've found my MP3 charger. Problem is I've now lost the damn player! Bugger bugger bugger. I've also a nasty feeling it's been nicked out of my unlocked car. Strong Language Warning: F U C K

On the good side, cute guy is not the wayward straying evil bugger I thought he was, so that's all right...

Last night I was at a Fête de la Châtaigne at my youngest's school. They were roasting chestnuts and had provided wine, soft drinks and nibbles just to get everyone together. I think it was the parents' association that organised it.

I went along and grappled with some burnt or undercooked chestnuts while my son rushed about playing with his friends. Then I took my plastic cup of red plonkino and retired to a nearby fence to observe the goings on. I felt like some sort of scientist observing the social interaction of an obscure tribe. I didn't know anyone and just felt I didn't particularly want to either. Except one. An ex-neighbour who is ng's physiotherapist, who told his wife I'm looking fabulous at the moment and she hasn't spoken to me since. hehe... There's French women for you!

I must have been in one of my bizarre moods - out of it, stand-offish, unfriendly. Then one lady did come over - the grandmother of a friend of my youngest, who I know. She must have been desperate for company... anyway, we exchanged pleasantries and then I searched around for something to say. She is elegant and kind, but just with enormous communication barriers. Which of course makes any conversation a mere banality and a way of filling the time before you can decently go home.

Eventually I was able to take my leave and rushed off to embrace the human warmth of my two darlings at home. Relief!