je m'appelle Therese
i live in ... well ... it does not matter where i live. this year i shall be 53 years old. shit. okay. i live in a small town near bordeaux. during the day, i work in the magasin of a local vineyard. no one comes in winter. in summer we have english and germans buying our wine by the case. some is okay, some is not. we are not a grand cru of any classification. some is okay. i get a case a month to take home. i live alone. no man. no children. people ask me now why and i do not know what to say. sure, there were guys, but no marriage. when i was young, i had fun. the late '70s, a little drugs, le punk rock, paris, nothing serious. but then i stayed in that life. other girls from school, they married. weddings with the local priest in small towns, but not me. i kept living like i was still 19. maybe for too long. i remember even now the year i was 30: 1985. maybe it should have changed that year. i worked in a foyer, it was easy. be a friend for the kids, clean up a little, make sure things never got crazy. sometimes i was bored. sometime i liked it. i was old, but not too old. some of the kids i lived with were maybe 22, 23. one night i remember a girl saying, 'let's go to the cinema.' i had nothing to do. i went. she had this english guy with her. he was different to the french students i met. he made me laugh. the movie was his idea and it was some crazy english thing about fascists and plumbers and i do not know what. crazy. i did not have energy to concentrate so i looked at him sometimes. he made me laugh. he laughed when i did not expect. i laughed too but i do not think he saw.
it was 1985 and many people were worried about the cold war. reagan was elected again. madam thatcher was in england. they argued with the russians. i was 30 and i lived with kids who did not think they would be 40 because there would be a war. the english guy made me laugh. i thought, why not? i kissed him later, then we fucked. more than one time. sure, i had a boyfriend but it was not serious. we did not love. with the english guy it was also not love, but it was different. my first time with a foreign guy. different.
he went to london, but when he came back he was in love, for real, with an english woman. i did not know how i felt. we tried to fuck but it was not the same. he left. i never saw him again.
i stayed at that foyer for six years more, then i thought i was getting too old to talk to kids about drugs and flics. too old for paris maybe. i went to my small town near bordeaux. there were no interesting guys. maybe one or two, in time, but nothing true. i am okay now. i have my apartment and my work at the vineyard. sometimes i think of the english guy from '85. he was different.
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 20:36, 10 replies)

whoa..
..that was like a dark french film in word form. I read it in a french accent.

I like it, though I dunno why.
(inflateable, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 20:56, closed)

ah...
..I hadn't scrolled down to chickenlady's post when I read this.

I was wondering what it had to do with stalking, but I still like it.
(inflateable, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 21:00, closed)

I like this
it's perfect.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Mon 4 Feb 2008, 21:26, closed)

This is really good
Very well written, I really liked the style.

Tres bien!
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 22:05, closed)

a french accent and you all melt
Come on nobody want to correct the spelling and the grammar, have you all gone soft if that had been written by some chav in Hemel Hempstead you lot would have been all over it like a rash.
(uugee, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 22:15, closed)

So that is Therese's reply then...
another reply that is.....
very well done. A bit more french....but not quite as erotic as chickenlady's
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Tue 5 Feb 2008, 0:46, closed)

hey uugee
why don't you go and fuck yourself?!

I can relate to this story...
(Shmeg, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 2:11, closed)

haha
brilliant
(Ol' Ginger Bastard a role model for the children, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 6:10, closed)

nobody
is that French.

EDIT: Sorry, I didn't realise you were replying to Che's thing, I thought you were trying to pass yourself off as an actual French person.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 7:23, closed)

Well, thanks...
...for bringing me back down to earth after Chickenlady's piece.

I like your style - very slack-jawed, ciggie smoke, but do I detect a bit of 'history through Wikipedia' here? The Cold War wasn't really an issue so much as Thatcher's destruction of the industrial heart that used to beat in the UK. She'd dragged us to the Falklands and now had turned on the working classes...and she was winning. I'd been picking grapes the previous autumn when the farmer came running out of the farmhouse to tell us that Madame Thatcher had been bombed by les Irlandais...

Still thanks for taking the time - hope you enjoyed it.

I did, so 'click'
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 9:34, closed)