|
24 Oh, Madeleine! Madeleine said one time in the cold rain a cyclist came to her door and asked for something to eat. She was preparing food for him in the kitchen, and she had left him in the adjacent room drinking tea. Walking in unexpectedly, she caught him stealing sugar. "Finish your tea and get out," she demanded. As Madeleine finished her story, the phone rang and she left the room to answer it. When she returned my cake was gone. "Did you eat it already?" she asked. "No," I kidded her, "I stuck it in my pocket." Hey. Pocket Cake. A new product from France. Sharon was really getting into this French pronunciation bit. However Madeleine said a word, Sharon tried to parrot the same sound. Sharon was doing great, but I figured she was carrying it too far when she began calling me "Nail," exactly the way Madeleine pronounced my name. Petit déjeuner was grand. Toast, runny cheese with garlic, honey, jam, vanilla-pear tea, Mueslix, milk, orange juice. That was what I liked about the French--they didn't eat much, so I got to eat more. And they lingered over meals. Lunch break, for example, was two hours. And no banks or stores were open to rush around doing errands on lunch hour as I did back home. They did what they should have been doing at lunch--eating, joking and relaxing with friends. We went downtown to see Gilbert at work. Madeleine parked illegally in front of the fountain. With a devilish laugh she said, "Gilbert can fix it if I get a ticket." He had twice already. We went to the canteen for lunch. It was Good Friday. Of course, we had fish. But, just like Christmas, I found it unusual that no stores were closed. Wasn't that strange for a country that purported itself to be ninety percent Catholic? Then it was home for dinner where we had another fun time eating and telling tales into the night. After a couple of bottles of wine we laughed at Madeleine's alcohol tester--two long springy wires that one had to pass a marble from one thimble to the other. Madeleine was camera happy, and took a whole roll of film during dinner. One of Madeleine's stories was about a blind ten year old boy. Whenever Madeleine went to visit, he would feel her boobs to tell who she was. "Oh, Madeleine!" he would say. Sharon wanted to visit. |
|
|
Book Info