Shit Happens ... to all of us

I'd like to go on believing that somehow I will escape the tragedies - life, illness, death, depression - that happen to other people, but the illusion is becoming increasingly hard to hold on to.

Of course age has something to do with it - I've been around longer to observe the process in action - but as I had already witnessed the death of two close friends and my parents by the age of 30, this doesn't really seem an adequate explanation.

So what is happening?

Catherine's son committing suicide shook the foundations of my world and I am suffering from the after shock still. Why? Because it is so close to home, so real and suddenly so obviously something that could happen to me. His death has amplified the brink that Lucy and by association I, teeter on. Our lives revolve around her state of mind, her happiness, her future and the above all the questions - why her?/why me? /where did I go wrong?/why am I such inadequate parent?/what can I do now?

Now I hear that Libby Purves has also lost a son to suicide. Libby, whose book I read ('How Not to be Pregnant), when I was pregnant and I suspect she wrote when she was pregnant with Nicolas. A harsh irony and perhaps proof that no matter how much you give someone, and I am sure he had advantages that I could never hope to give Lucy, the state of mind will prevail.

But here the dichotomy leaps out even as I write. How can I in one breath propose that my mother's insanity was largely caused by her insane childhood (and use my own 'loser' status as an example of the damage childhood can do) while in the next breath (my most recent) maintain that ultimately who we are will always 'out'.

And on insanity - last night was a good example . A Rotary do, jazz evening in Laval, for which I dress in jeans, while (as I only discover too late) the rest of the Rotary world has donned their finest glitz and glam. I last all of 5 minutes before announcing to Paul that I can't stay and, bless him, he agrees without a word of criticism. We go off to eat a solitary and fairly miserable meal and then return home to watch Alison Moyet, Jo Brand, Trinny and Sue spar on the same sofa - a great spectacle and guess who won?

Today, I am full of resolution (probably just a hormonal shift) - we are going to get fit, I am going to get out and speak French, I have a new idea for the guide (came to me during the night - proof that I am living and dreaming the sodding subject) and I will take a look at Virgin publishing as an option. In doing so the thought has occurred to me that I should have become obsessed by a far more innovative and sexy past time that people might label 'cool', but it is too late to turn back now so I might as well just get on with it. Anyway, since last night's walk round Laval's streets (looking for a pizza place we did not find) I have decided that living in Laval will be good for both our souls (and our French).

Other people might close with something banal like 'watch this space', but I won't.