It’s difficult

Last weekend when I took Olivier back for his lift to Poitiers, we took the road which was furthest away from the sea. It didn’t seem right somehow to ogle the misfortune of the people that live in that village. Even on the road we took we could see that the sea had entered into the fields, there was still a lot of water. We could smell the sea too.

This morning I went to collect Olivier and decided to take the road nearest to the coast. Everywhere is brown, the sea and salt burn the plants. We can see where the sea came to in our village too, just by the browned grass and winter wheat. The ‘sea’ smell was very strong and the side of the road was just about there. Some of the tameris trees have fallen as the ground around their roots was washed away. The worst part were the houses that had been flooded, some of them empty ,now. Outside piles of ruined bits and pieces of furniture, wood and other belongings and everywhere the trace of brown silt, now dry, but covering everything at ground level. Olivier said that even as they arrived in the village this morning they could sense that something had happened. He was right.

I parked outside the school which is our arranged pick up point. I used to teach there when I was an assistant. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for the teachers having lost some of their pupils.

Olivier is taking the train to go back on Sunday. I’m pleased I don’t have to go there again for a little while