5. February 2017 Launois sur Vence- Signy l’Abbaye

Another inside day. A rather windy and wet one as well, and a Sunday. So I put on my still wet shoes in the morning, put my head down and started following the quiet road with the constant sound of the wind in my ears. Thinking about what I could think about today. It was then when I noticed that there was a slightly different sound left of me. I looked up and there was a pinetree. I never noticed before that wind makes a different sound in different trees. I kept on walking and there it was again.The sound of wind in a pinetree. That was absolutely faszinating.

Less faszinating was when a car with two young men in it passed me from the back and they thought it was very funny to beat the horn beside me. At such moments I am close to a heart attack. Just the same as when a dog starts to bark beside me. This happened twice today as well. Makes three almost heart attacks. No, four. Because the same car came back half an hour later.

So far I was very lucky. I did’t make any bad experiences. Though France is slightly different to Switzerland and the UK. For example when I go to a pub, which is quite normal for a woman to do in Switzerland and the UK, here it confuses people. Women don’t go to pubs.Those women who do go to such places, have a rather bad reputation. Big cities are different, but here in the countryside women stay away from pubs. They only enter them to decorate them with pink and purple plastic desaters. Recently I have seen a pub with self made puppets all over the place. Sometimes I realy am not sure if this is a womens revenge for not being able to go to pubs.

Going to a pub is the only possibility for me to have a cup of tea during the day. But always when I open the door, the talking stops and men are confused. I always can hear them thinking: „What is this women doing here? She is not from here. Why does she wear yellow safety clothes? Is she working for Public Service? What is she pulling behind her? How bad is her reputation?“ Sometimes it happens that somebody is asking me these questions, but mostly they prefere to stay confused.

Todays rubbish had a very philosophical aspect. First I saw a tool. I must confess that I am a great fan of tools. I love to visit hardware stores and similar places. Though it is always very tempting. It is almost impossible to leave such a store without a very useful tool I just discovered. Most of them I maybe use only once in a lifetime. But in that very moment, it is a very good feeling to have the right tool in the right moment. A tool is something like a teddybear, you have a relation ship with it. You never ever throw away a tool. Every tool owner will agree that this is so. So it is not a big surprise that I never see thrown away tools. Exept today. I found a fork spanner, size 17. To be more precise, it was half of a fork spanner. That leads to the question what on earth made this tool break in two pieces? It is not possible to break a fork spanner! And where is the other half? And what happened to the tool owner who suffered this lost? Was he heart broken? Did he drown his sadness with a couple of beers in the pub? Was he even the pub owner?

There was a second rather strange rubbish in the grass beside the street. A single piece of a jigsaw puzzle. It is not the first such puzzle piece I saw. There was one in Germany as well and two or three of them in UK last year. Again, everyone who has ever made a jigsaw puzzle, knows the awful feeling when you have puzzeled for several weeks and when it comes to the end, you realise there is no end and the puzzle can never be finished because of the last missing piece. Everybody around you tries to cheer you up by saying: „It is just a single piece, you have done so well with the other 5999 pieces, forget about this missing one. It is ok.“

NO! IT IS NOT OK! This is like if you would stand in front of the Mona Lisa Painting, and the smile has been cut out. Or even worse, one eye is missing, the painting would have to be called „The smile of the cyclops“. Awful.

The same with the jigsaw puzzle. You even look for this missing piece in your dreams. Your thoughts are totaly occupied.

Somehow they appear on the streets. Don’t ask me why. And it leads to even more questions. Why always only one piece? What happened to the poor woman, puzzlers are mostly women, who could never finish the picture of pink roses in a purple vase? Was she heart broken too? Did she accidently show up in the tool owners pub, even if she risked her good reputation, only to drown her sadness with a couple of beers as well? And did the pub owner and the jigsaw lady fall in love with eachother because of the similar experiences in life?

I hope so. They probably live in the area and she now decorates his pub. Happyend.

I tell you, inside days are realy hard working days, at least for the brain. Rainy days are brainy days. But you see now why time passes by so quickly.

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