Monday, August 24


‘Do you have children?,’ the lady at the supermarket asked.
I contemplated her question for a while. It might have been a refreshing change from: ‘Do you save airmiles?’ or ‘Do you have a customercard?' I imagined that from now on I would be having intimate dialogue at the supermarket, that complete strangers would ask me: 'Do you use contraception?' Or : 'Are your parents still alive?' That you could discuss life, death and reincarnation at the checkout or while waiting for your bread. It’s so much easier to trust a stranger than your closest friend.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have children,’ I answered. Of course I was sorry I didn’t have children. Was this the information she was aiming at? ‘But I do have a lot of nephews and nieces.’
‘Okay,’ she said, obviously glad with my answer. ‘I can give you three frisbees if you want.’
So now I have three frisbees which I got for free. The only thing that I don’t understand is: why didn’t she ask if I liked playing frisbee?

Saturday, August 15


Coupland wrote something about shame and impulsivity which I wanted to quote today, but now I’ve lost the piece of paper with the quote on it. Was it that impulsivity is nothing to be ashamed of? Or that you should fear nothing, execpt your own impulsivity? In any case I have decided that I want to quit my job. You could say that quitting your job when everybody talks about recession is a very risky thing to do. Or you could say that it’s time for a new challenge, time to broaden your horizon, whatever your economic situation is. Of course I wish I was more like normal people. I wish I could feel satisfied with climbing the corporate ladder, with sucking up to bosses and people in upper management. The more I see people sucking up around me, the more I want to run away and live my life out on a farm. My dream is to escape from capitalism and grow my own food. To live life without internet, a televison or a mobile phone. Maybe one day.

Tuesday, August 11


My six year old newphew is staying with us for a week. He arrived in the village with his wallet, asking if he could go shopping somewhere, Yes, he comes from London, so maybe country life will be a shock. I like being Auntie Margot, it’s new, it’s refreshing, it feels like I was born this way.
After being bored for the first day he is now slowly getting used to rural France.
First shock: Carrots grow in a field, not in a plastic bag with Tesco written on them.
Second shock: Nobody here speaks English, and all the French people have funny unpronounceable names.
Third and most unexpected shock: all the dishes that my auntie makes have courgette in them.
After dinner he plays hide and seek in the garden and writes short stories about butterflies.He also writes stories about ‘dark, dark castles’ and eyeball soup. Yes, I know there is a family connection there.

Monday, August 10


Back to reality. Left Sicily a long time ago, flying to Milan Malpensa, which is probably the worst airport in the world. From there I went to a small village in Southern France, trying not to think about work or love or life in general. My mother, who picked me up from the station, didn’t recognise me at first. She said: ‘I saw this trendy looking woman, and only after a few seconds did I realise it was my child!’
I told her I dressed trendy on pupose, to make sure she would recognise me. We got in the car and drove to her village, about an hour from the nearest town. I was quite happy to leave civilisation behind. She told me that the bakery would drive by on Tuesday, selling pastries and biscuits and freshly baked croissants.
We did not need to go shopping since there was salad in the garden, and the neighbour had already given her courgette. Being in France meant sleeping and eating, and waiting for the bakery to show up at the door.