Frenchie from Hell

You think you divorced the woman from hell? I bet she doesn't come close to the one I heard about last night.

She was married to the plumber and it seems likely there is something loose between the ears although she won't admit it. She became convinced he was being unfaithful (he wasn't) and that set off a reaction of extraordinary proportions.

First she beat herself up and went to the police with her bruises saying her husband had inflicted them. She did this three times. Then they went on holiday with the kids, camping, cycling, rambling doing outdoor things and getting caught in brambles etc. Upon their return, the caravan still attached to the car, she went to the police again and showed them her cuts and bruises and told them her husband had done them. So they came round and ordered him to leave his home. He found out at that point that there had been 3 other complaints.

He went back the next day to find all his stuff flung onto the garden, his professional papers flying about, torn and dirty, and the locks changed. On his own house.

She accused him of inappropriate touching of their kids and he was forbidden from seeing them for some time.

She falsified his signature on a document declaring that he had given his car to her, took it to the Prefecture, got a Carte Grise and then declared the car stolen. He received a call one day from a police pal asking him if he knew his car was stolen when he knew it was in his garage.

She then got a relative, a bent cop, to steal his car by using a lorry to tow it away. It was heading for Spain when it was retrieved at the border.

She tried to get her hands on his beloved classic car by asking to borrow it when hers was 'having trouble'. Luckily the eldest daughter who was 10 at the time rang her dad and told him not to because there was no problem with her car, her mother just wanted to get her hands on his.

She falsified his grandmother's death certificate to declare him dead to try and get the life insurance. It was in the name of the kids however, so she got nothing. Another pal rang him one day and asked him if he knew he was dead.

She got the local drunk to wait for him at night outside his flat, beat him up, and knife him in the stomach twice. He spent three weeks in hospital. He recognised the thug of course as the local drunk, so the guy did actually spend 3 months in prison. 

She joined the Jehovah's Witnesses, obtained false passports for the kids and took them to Mali as a missionary without informing him, effectively kidnapping them. He didn't see them for a year as he had no idea where she was. He had to use all his contacts to get them back to France legally.

Despite all this, do you think the French justice system has in any way punished her? It would be wrong to say no, but it might just as well be.  She was fined 12K and as she's a welfare case, she has no money and cannot pay. So there you have it. In France you can lie, commit fraud, commit attempted fraud, wrongly accuse someone of something, kidnap, pay a hit man, and steal... and get away with it.

She's still got the kids, too. They chose to stay with her but he does have access. For the time being... She wants to go back to Mali...

How's that for BAD?

DIVORCED

I suppose it would be really tacky of me to announce, with much drum-rolling and fanfare that

I am at last
OFFICIALLY DIVORCED

Yeah, I thought so...

I have been emotionally and mentally divorced for years, of course, but I can now change my passport back to my maiden name, get my mobile phone contract in my name and various other exciting examples of removing all trace of his name on my stuff.

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have bought a bottle of vintage 2002 Veuve Cliquot. It even came in its own orange box. There's posh. I don't intend to quaff it all by myself however. That would be sad, and very bad for me, so I'm gathering together a small number of very fine friends, including NG and my TWDB if he can make it. Being a top notch Man of Substance, however, he may not make it before we have snuck the whole lot. That's one of the problems of being a Very Busy homme d'affaire, and why I am apathetic about being a career girl. It's too tempting to pack in early and go and do something more interesting instead...

So, let me raise a cyber glass to my lovely St Bloggie readers. You'll have to imagine the cut crystal champagne flute, the delicate pale gold of fizzing champagne, and the ring of crystal on crystal as we toast my newly de-cluttered chemin de coeur.

Cheers!

Opéra à Savon Légal

My divorce procedure is turning into a legal soap opera.

After talking to my lawyer and appeal lawyer yesterday evening I had to go to the fridge and open a bottle of refreshing rosé to help me recover from the shock.

It seems that my ex-h had arrived at the Tribunal towards the end of the morning, found it to be functioning, and insisted that the appeal be heard as he'd come down especially from Paris. This was not quite true as he had also come for a RDV with my youngest's speech therapist and to take the boys back up to Paris.

My lawyer hadn't told me on Tuesday, but she is on sick leave for two months. When this happens, usual conduct amongst lawyers is to suspend all hearings until a full recovery is made. Insisting that the appeal proceed is a deontology scandal. My appeal lawyer wrote a letter to the 'Bâtonnier'- president of the Bar, who wrote to the Tribunal President in the strongest terms. It is unheard of to steam-roller over an ill colleague apparently.

My lawyer hadn't deemed it necessary to tell me about her sick leave because of the previous week's strikes which led her to think that this week would be no different. In any case, it shouldn't have made a difference because the appeal shouldn't have gone ahead. "In thirty years' practice" she said, "I've never known such a situation. Quelle scandale!" I suspect a certain infamy will be attached to the name of my ex-h as a result. He'll be able to add it to his collection...

And so it goes on...

Wot, M'Lud?

I'm sure I'm not the only one not to understand the French legal system, but really, I am perplexed at the events of the last couple of days.

My divorce procedure was supposed to be following its course and my appeal against the last judgement heard today. Yesterday I called my lawyer who told me that due to strikes at the Tribunal the courts were not sitting, so it was likely that my appeal would be off today. Strikes in France, I hear you cry! How can it be? I know it's not something the French tend to do, being accepting little souls who never try to get their own way... BUT Rachida Dati, Minister for Justice, has been upsetting the legal world with her reform of the Carte Judiciaire closing a number of Tribunals and regrouping others. Lawyers are not the type to take attacks against their interests without a fight - actually, the French in general are not the type, especially self-interest - so they have been exercising their right to strike.

I relayed this information to my ex-h who called yesterday and who had every intention of being present for appeal with the result that he came down anyway but later to pick up the boys and drive them back for July with him. He stopped off, on the way over, at the Tribunal and guess what... it had not been on strike and the appeal had been heard!

Naturally the fact that he'd missed it was all my fault, but I have no idea what happened and have not been able to speak to my lawyer yet.

There was nothing he could have done even if he had been present as it was a procedure between lawyers, but he wanted to hear what was said probably to check up that his lawyer didn't let him down. I didn't want to be present because a certain amount of slagging off goes on and that would have upset me. I prefer to let my lawyer get on with it.

So, I'm now waiting with bated breath for her call to let me know what the hell is going on. Good thing I didn't organise and then cancel a divorce party!

The Weight of Anxiety

It's always traumatic when the boys go away for the holidays. It shouldn't be, but my confidence that they are going to have a lovely time is slight. Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised when they come back recounting the agreeable holiday they've had, but it shouldn't be a lottery.

After yesterday's hand-over I have little faith that this week is going to be much fun for them. This was further confirmed by some communication from my eldest today, to the point that I have been fairly paralysed with a sort of low-level misery. It's a visceral feeling that happens to mothers when they know their offspring are unhappy. I've been pretty useless for anything for most of the day.

I didn't manage to get my youngest's bike to the repair shop, or take our unwanted stuff to the Secours Catholique which I've been meaning to do for some time, or look at summer shoes, or clean the shower curtain, or throw out decaying junk from the fridge. I didn't go to the bottle bank, or the pharmacy to buy anti-flea shots for Ulysse, or shorten some new trousers, or have a proper lunch (I ate crisps!).

I did manage to get to Carrefour and stood miserably in front of the dried fruit and nuts shelves in search of raisins only to remember that the ones I like are in Intermarché. There was no coriander or the Fair Trade chocolate I like, but I did find bulbs for the halogen lamps in the bathroom. I hadn't known how to take the lamps apart to remove the bulb so took a screwdriver to the inbuilt lights and brought down bits of plastic with the cover. Oops - they only needed unscrewing...

When I got back I forced myself into the garden to do some weeding. It's been raining, so ideal for pulling up cocky weeds that think they've got their installation sussed. Even the ones that break off at the base more than easily succumbed to some gentle persuasive tugging.

I have not since received any more desperate communications, and am feeling calmer and less morose. I finished reading Gabriel García Márquez' 'One hundred years of solitude' which was strangely apt in my present state. Fabulous book, by the way - a mega classic good read with some breathtakingly beautiful images.

Today has been a wasted day, expended on futile anxiety. I can do nothing to resolve the situation, and can just react to the fallout. It's exhausting. Thank goodness I have my pals for moral support.