lundi 20 mai 2013
Beating myself up...........
We have just arrived home from a wonderful weekend at a huge brocante that once a year stretches for 5 kilometres through the woods.
We always start at 4.30am on the Saturday morning and no matter how many times you walk the 5 kms you find something you haven`t seen before.
The hotel was fabulous and the rain held off which was a miracle.
I would normally today be showing you all my latest treasures which are piled high and I absolutely adore them all.
But something happened that I absolutely cannot forgive myself for. I let something happen and I didn`t intervene and now I am beating myself up.
On the Sunday morning after the main day of the brocante some new dealers arrive so we always have a slow walk up the length again just to check before we leave. Many dealers from the day before simply cover their stock with sheets and bed down in their vans for the next day.
At 7.30am we started to walk and it was Soooooo cold!! We arrived at a van where a family were unpacking and a small pale little girl in a summer dress was sat on a chair in the cold. I noticed her as she was about 4 years old and had a dummy ( comforter) in her mouth. I thought she was perhaps a little old for it but "hey ho" who am I to say?! I did think someone could have given her a sleeping bag or blanket though to cover her bare legs as it was so chilly.
I thought no more of it and continued.
On the way back down about an hour later, her father, a small wiry rough looking man, was unloading his stock onto a plastic sheet on the floor. The little girl walked across the sheet and he shouted loudly at her which caught my attention. He then picked her up and threw her so she skidded on her hands and knees onto the gravel.
I stopped dead and couldn`t believe what I had seen as did a few French couples. Initially I thought I had imagined it. He then went over to her dragged to her her feet, knelt down and yelled and yelled right in front of her face. Her knees were bleeding, he took no notice and he pointed to the van telling her to go and get in. She never cried one tear and just stood there pale and shaking.
No one said a word. Including me and now I cannot forgive myself. I don`t know if I could have found the French words quick enough - as if that matters.
It is easy to say after the event but why didn`t I go and stop him or at least tell him I had recorded it all on my phone and was off to tell the gendarmes.
Why didn`t some bigger guy just pick him up throw him in gravel to see what it felt like?
Why didn`t I just knee him in the groin- you don`t need French words for that?
So, that little pale girl is stuck in my mind and I know I should have done something although I don`t know what.
Why on earth didn`t I do something?
A demain mes belles