I try really hard not to be a neurotic mother, but sometimes fate just overwhelms me. On Sunday lunch time Rob told me that a report was coming up on TV about riots in the centre Poitiers! I sat and watched the pictures of the devastation with my stomach churning. Such a quiet, peaceful town, holding a festival. I knew that Dom and J-M would attend something like that on their doorstep. Dom and I managed to converse with each other via our message services. They were fine, but disappointed that the event they were going to attend on Saturday evening had been cancelled.
A gang of around 250 hooded and masked men had passed through the town centre on Saturday afternoon smashing shop windows, letting off smoke bombs and causing damage. Fortunately only one person was injured. From the far left, they were protesting about the building of a new prison. What is shocking, besides the violence of the attack, was the way that the protest had been highly organised.
Olivier had come home for the weekend so I knew that he was safe and sound. Or was he? On Saturday evening he went into town with some friends on their bikes, which they normally do if they know that they will be drinking. I know, bikes can be lethal too when mixed with alcohol. They park them just outside the police station, so that they are well guarded. Somehow he managed to loose his phone. We tried phoning him to see if we could locate it, but the battery was flat. He spent Sunday afternoon organising a new one. Fortunately he was almost at the end of his contract. Thanks to the internet he can pick the new phone up from a shop in Poitiers during the week.
He remembered to take his alarm clock back with him. If he misses lectures he will lose his ‘grant’.