We are legal in France

My Carte de Sejour, or residence permit was handled at the Prefecture in Versailles. Writing from the Halte Garderie on the 19 August, we had had interviews, handed in paperwork and voila, but the process was done by the Personnel Officer from Telemecanique. I must have been clueless.

I am wondering what my Mom made of this latest letter. Motherhood is getting on top of me and even though I am a 30 year old woman, this little girl, not even 2 years old has me whinging to my mother.

Goodness me, I feel like shaking my younger self, relax and enjoy your children. But, a place to call home matters to me, we were still squatting in a temporary home, all I remember it looked like a Swiss Chalet, it was difficult being cooped up in someone else's home with young babies.

The only quiet spot in the open plan noisy wooden chalet was the vestibule of the downstairs toilet and I would wheel Barry in there to try get him to sleep.

I also do not understand customs and routines of my 'ville' never mind not speaking French. I take a walk to Marly's quaint old village for coffee while the kids are adjusting to the Halte Garderie and it is shuttered up for the holiday month, so I then traipse to a rather unattractive functional centre called Les Grand Terre and have coffee in a smoky bar, finish my letter, post it and walk back for the kids.

I am however excited about buying our vacuum cleaner, fridge and washing machine; 'it's like Christmas in the middle of the year.' 

A Normandy weekend and a postcard to Doreen

Mid August 1986, we have been in France for 5 weeks, we are on the road exploring Normandy, popping past a Chateau and on our way to the coast.

I mention the kids are OK and travelling reasonably well. I recall the nights were tough on these weekend trips, restless and at times noisy babies, me worried about disturbing neighbours, car always packed to the rafters with paraphernalia.

My letter to Mom a few days later gives an insight into the difficulties and my attitude; 'But still, its important to get about and do things.'

We were not light in the world.

The furniture was delayed but I was chuffed to be able to move into our home, even if it meant camping with two children under two years of age.

Saturdays are always fun

Our neighbourhoods to the west of Paris.
We had our rented home in Marly-le-Roi.
Fred worked in Rueil-Malmaison.
The market and shops of St Germain-en-Laye were a firm favourite.
My letter of the 13 August mentions Parly 2, our Sandton City look alike in France, was in Le Chesnay, in the direction of Versailles, as I tell Mom. Salade aux jambon was a treat when we went shopping.

Fred has not changed! 28 years later he still gets excited about buying a TV. Our first colour TV was bought to watch Wimbledon, one of the legendary Bjorn Borg vs John McEnroe finals in the early 80's. He has just bought a 40" LED Smart Samsung for Arthur Road which is a story in itself; he stood on an upturned plug, fell, squashed the screen within 20 minutes of the installation, so two TV's in 24 hours. As the French say: 'le plus ca change le plus ca meme.'

We spent many hours in front of the Grundig mentioned in my letter. Watching the news readers helped me with my french, they spoke clearly with no jargon. In Paris, the 'langue de la rue', was fast, full of idiomatic expressions and we needed to learn slang to get by.

When we bought our second car for me to get around we called it La Poubelle, a great example of 'l'argot' or slang in Paris.

'As well as meaning bin, poubelle can also be used to refer to old cars in a poor state of repair'

Mme Brimaud did let us move in early so we avoided the caravan park. We had our electrical goods delivered, borrowed bits and pieces and camped while we waited for our container. 

Shawni's fridge with magnets 

I have been getting messages from Shawni and love all the parallels on her current reality in Wellington, New Zealand and my blogging from the summer of 1986 in Paris. 

• 24 November: In other wonderful news we were offered the place!!! 
   The owners would like earlier occupation from Dec 12^th so I don’t think we have much room to negotiate and will just have to make it work. It’s easier to make living in the place without furniture work than being homeless! So we will be borrowing those mattresses from Craig’s boss J
  
  
• 11 December: So last night in a serviced apartment. Packing up again. Craig gets keys tomorrow but I have a function so won't see place. Hoping electricity will be on, we applied but haven't had any confirmation yet.
• 12 December: Craig's at home doing the move. Got rental bed, TV and microwave delivered. But no internet or TV. For me moving in will only come tomorrow.
• 12 December: Hello! So first night in our house. Love it even without any furniture. 
• 13 December: Starting to settle in (Shawni sent me this photo of her fridge with magnets)
• 13 December: Shew busy day. Mega shop kitting out our pantry, cleaning stuff, camping stuff to live for a couple of weeks. Tomorrow more cleaning, exploring our suburb, some more shopping.
• 14 December: Weather been great today. House gets a lot of sun which is great. Camping been fine. No TV or internet but hoping I have a series on my laptop.



The breakfast nook, Wellington.

• 14 December: Bought a small breakfast table for our breakfast nook. 
• 15 December: So good admin day today. Craig got Sky TV and internet sorted. So am on wifi now.

The wellness of knitting

The photos I proudly sent to Mom showing off the jersey I knitted for Shawni. Isn't she a beauty as Fred would say.

My sketch and details of the jersey

The window of the knitting shop in St.Germain-en-Laye caught my attention.

Beautiful mohair wools in bright fresh colours. Even though it was the middle of the summer of 1986, I walked in, browsed for a pattern and walked out with an armful of this fabulous, expensive wool.

And I knitted.

I can still feel the joy from the purchases, the hard work to understand a french knitting pattern and being so proud of my handiwork.

I knitted a second jersey, but do not seem to have a photo.

It was so much more than knitting.

I felt a wellness and a vitality resurface.

My pregnancies had followed each other so quickly I had not really gotten over the first one and I was in the cycle again. An irony given that I took some 5 years to fall pregnant with Shawni.

Even though I made the move happen, encouraged Fred, the lack of language challenged me, I am verbal and take pleasure in words and I was quite at sea. 'I cannot say that my French has improved too much over the last month but my ear is improving e.g. I'm starting to pick up numbers but they speak so fast.'

I did not take Telemecanique up on their offer of full day lessons in Paris, too tricky with not being settled and the kids so young. Instead I joined the Alliance Francaise in St. Germain for school going french lessons for foreigners, which was about 10 minutes from our home. These memories are harsh, I snuck into level 2, the deuxieme classe and floundered. During dictation I could not discern 'virgule' from the word it followed, virgule is comma and I would write it out countless times.

One quality I have though is stamina and I persevered.

Being a mother did not come easy to me. I know this and can feel it in the letters.

I write; I have put both kids down for their morning naps, so I am hoping for some peace, Shawni and I had a run in this morning, I reckon my hand is the worse for the wear at this stage. She has been difficult again the last few days. I'm not cut out for this lark.' 'I have started to get organised, our ville has a 'Halte Garderie' where one can leave kids, from 3 months to 3 years, for the day i.e. 8.30 - 5.30. We phoned and for both littley's it will cost 103FF which includes two meals for Shawni at 12 and 4pm, this is most reasonable' 'So Tuesday's will be my day off - need it!'

Starting to knit again.

Through my corporate years knitting took a back seat and fleece took over.

I have started again and want to focus on creative children's knitting.

One of my projects is this funky brick and mortar jersey, a Horst Schulz design.

My summer of 2014 project

As Inel says - 'once a teacher always a teacher'

The days are long, its hot and humid, it's Paris in August, its the dog days of August:

Hottest days of August; name is taken from the Great Dog (Canis Major) constellation and one of its stars: Sirius (which is brightest star of summer sky). Exactly first two weeks of August sun enters constellation of Canis Major. Hence the expression: Dog Days.

I have put the kids down for a morning sleep and sit quietly somewhere to write my letter home with all the news and plans.

We have bought piles of Michelin Guides, maps and I copy out one of the maps and give my mother a quick geography lesson, 'as Inel would say once a teacher always a teacher'

Normandy is highlighted and I tell her of our plans to travel over the August long weekend to the Calvados region. X on the map is where I have managed to find a flat adjacent to a hotel for the friday night even though it is peak season.

The geography lesson continues, with information about Normandy, its beauty, its cheese, cider, diary  and even a quick cooking lesson about 'a la Normandie' which means cooking with cream.

Mom would either have loved all of this or been bemused.

Tap Water and a trip to Versailles

Barry - 'little monkey' with diahorea and sleep patterns still erratic

The letter made me smile at my naivety, I had been making formula bottles for the kids using tap water, 'they both have very bad runny tummies and I was most concerned about Barry. Sally was horrified to hear that I was using tap-water. No one in Paris uses it for kids, they all buy water - how about that.' 

My first exposure to buying water. 

The tone of my letter is more relaxed, I am enjoying being with the kids, I mention Shawni is back to 'normal' which refers to her reverting to baby behaviour after Barry was born like wanting a bottle when he got one. I describe her as sweet and talking beautifully. 

We are still using the rental car the firm provided and waiting for the company car, a Renault 21, I proudly write 'I am getting familiar with the area where we are staying, even nipping around in the car on my own.'

Fred is having French lessons and handling all the tremendous amount of paperwork while I recognise me; looking at the fantastic shops in St Germain en Laye, having a coffee in an open air cafe and sightseeing. 

Fred organised a system for transporting both kids on the one buggy, I even sketched it for Mom.

We spent the sunday of the Bastille Day weekend at Versailles enjoying the perfectly symmetrical gardens of hedges and trees, the show of  spring flowers and the views across the Seine into Paris. 

I sent Mom this photo of Shawni feeding the swans and write 'all the little chap does is sleep during the day'. 

And why not Barry was not even two month's old....

2 Avenue Corneille, Les Ombrages, Marly le Roi

I can hear me spelling my surname and giving my address in a clear faultless French, the two things that were effortless and I have never forgotten how to do both things.

The second letter to my mother is a week later, I can tell how excited and relieved I was to have a home.

What I love the most are the neat, precise pencil sketches I sent to Mom.

In fact it could be her work, I must have absorbed more from her than I realise.

2 Avenue Corneille was a fascinating place with its 300 year old gazebo in the garden that we converted into a guest room. The gazebo would have been in the garden of the chateau over the road from our house, it had belonged to Louis the Fourteenth's surgeon.


The corner stand was 1200 sq. meters with espaliered fruit trees, apples, mirabelle plums, greengages, walnuts, hazelnuts, cherries and berries. Fred spent many long hours in the garden and I attempted to make preserves, not very successfully as I recall.

My letter says that the owner, an elderly lady who moved to join her children in Brittany, made 50 bottles of preserves a year from her garden.

I know for sure I would be so much more domesticated now! This is my favourite quince paste recipe from Spain. I made a delicious pear and ginger chutney recently and I would love to walk out into a garden to harvest for the kitchen.

I remember telling my dear friend Michelle that one day I would write a book called 'Mirabelle Trees' about these years in France. I think this blog will serve me well.

Writing out my address for Mom to copy.

The rent was 7000 francs per month, apparently inexpensive and Sally Denison, who became a special friend during these years, was so thrilled that we found this gem. We arranged to move in late August and I was expecting our container to arrive at Le Havre on the 16th August.

Writing about our new home

I had a message from Shawni this morning that she has moved into their home in New Zealand, like me before, she is relieved and excited, loving her view across the Wellington harbour. And like me too so many years ago, they are camping out in their home waiting for their furniture to arrive.

A photo I sent to Mom showing the abundance of fruiting trees on our rented property in Marly le Roi. The photo of the side of the house with the lounge downstairs and the kids room upstairs.

This is one of Shawni's photo of her place in Wellington. Her recent message on What'sApp 'Guess what! We have a herb patch and a lemon tree. Will need to clean it up.' 

We are women at the same age, 30 years old, 28 years apart sending very similar messages to our mothers, excited with our homes and gardens as well as disorientated by our respective moves but always exploring and adventuring.

An extraordinary link over the decades and looking back at me at 30 who would have thought...