15 February 2013

214. THREEFOLD TWENTY THREE


blurred photo taken by my granddaughter who was laughing

This blog was started and stopped several times.

And here I am again to-day... recalling the past, living the present and planning the future!

I left France, drove to Cherbourg, took the ferry to Rosslare in Ireland. I am now proud to announce that I live in Wexford, a small fishing port just 26 km north of Rosslare. This place is just what I needed. A small town full of friendly people, narrow streets and old ruins, crows and seagulls, and the sea at the end of every alleyway. It is built on the side of a hill facing east leading to the wharf where trawlers are moored. Smells of fish and chips and what fish! Grim colours of the stones, the churches and the sky full of rain falling sideways in packets. Passers-by in Main Street smiling and saying hello to you, sometimes commenting on the biting wind. Nothing stops the wind and the rain here. It comes from way out in the northern Atlantic or from way out in the North sea.

I ran away really. Not the first time either. As my good kibbutz friend says, I seem to have a huge need and urge for adventures. Wondering where I get that from. The nomad's chromosome, I call it. This time, however, I had to leave in a hurry being accused by a young policeman of being mental because he did not want to believe what I was saying. But that's another story.

In France your age is very important. You're asked your age before people say good morning to you or just about. On interviews they always say the age of people before anything else. That way you can be put in a familiar jar with a label. They know your behaviour and your thoughts about education and food and politics and religious practice. They know everything about you once you're in the jar with the age label on it...

Escaping the jar! I want to live life and be regarded as a human being with a future! For my next birthday I plan to have three cakes, with 23 candles on each one. I'll blow the 23 candles 3 times and I'll eat the three cakes! Isn't it fabulous to have lived 23 years, once, twice, three times? and to be able to plan the future for more? Isn't it fantastic to be able to recall all these years and these experiences? and still plan for more? Why do they want me in jar with a label: used human, trash.

3 comments:

The Book Florist said...

Hello Frankie,

It's lovely to hear from you again, and its exciting to learn about your move to Ireland. I've recently been daydreaming about the possibility of visiting Ireland, but it will have to wait until I finish my university course. I start my first year on Monday, majoring in Creative Writing with two minors in Literature and Drama.

I really enjoy hearing the observations that you make about different cultures and locations. It's very insightful. Reading your blog takes me to a different place - just like watching a good movie or reading a novel. It's an experience, and a chance to learn about the rest of the world. I especially enjoyed your detailed description of your new home.

Looking forward to hearing some more!
All the best!

Sreisaat said...

Frankie!
I'm glad you are back into blogging again. You don't know how happy I am to know that you are being the adventurous that you are. I was surprised, but not entirely, that you have embarked on yet another adventure -- to Ireland. I would love to read more about your new place, your village and neighbours. As you know, I've been wanting to go away too but it's just something's holding me back. I love the last paragraph of your post. Don't ever let them put you in a jar. You may have lived 23 years three times but there are still lots more in store for you in the coming years!! I hope that one day comes when I get to visit you finally and have that big, big hug! Take care and I'll be back for more!

Sreisaat/Zarah

Frankie Perussault said...

Your comments are really heart warming. Many many thanks!