It's Midday and I'm lying on the beach in the South of France. A light breeze whispers over my warming skin, with the Med sun biting - harsh for early spring.
Sounds inviting?
Flipping on my back, I look straight up the Nautique Club's flagpole, its coat of arms ripples like a lazy cuttlefish...much higher, clouds start to mingle like spilt ink, and the sun is blotted out by grey candy floss.
What was is no more - I am 46, unemployed, unloved and cold. I have been sleeping on various sofa beds - or the floor - for over 3 years. I'm suffering from depression, but too proud and stupid to seek help. 3 years ago I had 3 appartments, a restaurant on the Port, a new 4x4, a runaround car, a Vespa, a 1932 wooden boat.
I was married, 2 beautiful kids, a dog, several wild cats, a tropical aquarium. Dinner with friends weekly, rugby training twice a week, the odd game. Day trips to Italy, Monaco, Marineland, Aquasplash, fishing....
...I now see the kids a few hours a week and live out of a backpack. I'm down to my last 100 Euros, and don't know what I'm gonna eat tomorrow...
Very inviting, huh?
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