At the beginning of 2002 my son and his girlfriend decided to leave Paris and return to Noumea, New Caledonia, in order to have their baby born there. I sorted out their debts as much as I could, paid for their rent until the end of April and bought their plane tickets. After they left, I rented a van and drove to Paris with my guest potter and a young fellow to help remove their belongings.
In May my son flew back to France leaving his expecting girlfriend in the care of her mother. He was at a loss as to what to do. His former plan of settling back in Noumea did not seem to work. With the lump sum I had given him he couldn't set himself up. Before returning back again to Noumea he madly worked on his laptop trying to invent some kind of e-service that didn't exist in New Caledonia yet. When he left, I forgot how it went, but he actually forgot his passport in the house and phoned from the railway station in Chateauroux. I never drove the 50 odd kilometers to Chateauroux in such haste. I was worried. Why had he come back at all? What was wrong? What next?
In June around the time when I had the radio interview he phoned one day and said: mum, you're a grandmother! And then in July they all came back and settled with me.
Here's a photo of baby grand-daughter in July 2002 in the house attached to the pottery studio.
.jpg)
0 comments:
Post a Comment