Catastrophes, Courts, Road Trips, Rain, Rouen and Bakewell Tarts #3

La la la, where was I…yep, in the bath draining the contents of the minibar……good place to be and getting more nervous by the minute….took ages to drift off into a fitful sleep until I was awakened by the 6am alarm call…….. Mainline coffee for a while, then to the preparartions. Heck, I’m a goth, and this is the most important performance of my life. Secondly as ex husband in a suit usually wriggles around and bears more of a resemblance to the defendant than anything, always better to unnerve him.

Back up and began to turn myself into that scary thing known as executive-goth, smart but slightly terrifying around the edges. Red and black fishtail pinstripe suit, check.Red top. Check. Pentacle in place, say it out loud, I’m Pagan and I’m Proud. Straighten hair for that Morticia vibe. Enormous diamond engagement ring (lent by Mr A’s mum for that paranoia-giving life-goes-on message). Impeccable and immovable red lipstick, high-heeled boots and we’re ready to go. Mr A co-ordinating in red and black with more than a touch of the mafioso about him. Good. Scarier the better. Am now to the point of shaking. A lot.

I am not scared of courts. Especially when I haven’t actually done anything really bad. Or lawyers. They have a degree in law, I have one in English……. What I am terrified about is seeing my ex again after four years despite all my bravado and big boots, he still scares me. I know that I am going to have to go into a closed court with hm and Mr A will have to stay outside.

Eventually get to the court an hour early in a taxi. Much cigarette-smoking now required. Have to mention at this point that the French, simply in order to annoy me have changed the law regarding smoking. This week. No smoking in bars and restaurants. Especially to annoy me. Have another cigarette to calm myself down. Or ten.

Tell the office that we are there, then wait, and wait, and wait. 9 o’clock comes and goes, no sign of my solicitor (the one that I have not met yet who is pleading the plea bundle that the Parisian Barrister had prepared for me…) No sign of my husband either (yes readers, the one I am still married to although I am living with Mr A and have not seen for four years…). Great.

Back to the court office, where they told me that my solicitor was there, and that she was with his solicitor and the judge, and that this practice was normal in France…….

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One Response to “Catastrophes, Courts, Road Trips, Rain, Rouen and Bakewell Tarts #3”

  1. Ack. Spam, spam, spam…. x

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