{"id":152,"date":"2024-10-21T09:46:33","date_gmt":"2024-10-21T09:46:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/?p=152"},"modified":"2024-10-21T09:46:33","modified_gmt":"2024-10-21T09:46:33","slug":"mme-els-men","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/mme-els-men\/","title":{"rendered":"Mme El\u2019s men"},"content":{"rendered":"
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M<\/span>r Bernard pointed out to Mme El who hadn\u2019t looked <\/span>at it that way, was from a village on a local river, a <\/span>post-Great war child, together with a sister, his other <\/span>brother and sister predating the war, and Mme El thinks that <\/span>her mother-in-law can\u2019t have been best pleases, given the <\/span>difficult economic situation, at this new arrival.<\/span>
Still, there he was, a family member, hard-working like the <\/span>others, a hard life in fact and never a penny in his pocket, <\/span>Mme El\u2019s father had to see to that. Mme El wouldn\u2019t have had <\/span>him, had he not accepted to come and live with them. She for <\/span>one would never have moved into the rough surroundings in <\/span>the hills, farming beef, selling it on the market in Mirepoix<\/span>3<\/a><\/sup>Mirepoix is situated in the Hers valley between Carcassonne and Pamiers. Oc-name Mirapeis, meaning \u2018look at the fish\u2019, the city\u2019s coat of arms carries a fish, later Frenchified to Mirepoix which associates \u2018fish\u2019 with darkness, \u2018poix\u2019 meaning pitch\u00a0 (black).<\/span><\/span>, <\/span>working in the woods producing fire-wood for sale and <\/span>gathering chestnuts for the same purpose.<\/span>
Fortunately Mr Bernard didn\u2019t mind adapting himself to a <\/span>life of dairy-farming and cereal-growing. He was well-liked by <\/span>Mme El\u2019s father and especially by her grandmother who, she <\/span>laughed, would have married him herself! However, on the <\/span>one hand easy-going, especially in company, on the other as <\/span>stubborn and as single-minded as anyone, doesn\u2019t Mme El <\/span>know! A former neighbour who had known them well told me <\/span>that he was \u2018hard\u2019 on her. When I asked Mme El about that, <\/span>she replied by referring to his penniless youth\u2026<\/span>
He had this in common with her father: the love of hunting.<\/span>
Getting up at 4 am to do the milking, so that they could be <\/span>in time at the hunters\u2019 meeting place, chasing the wild boar <\/span>in the woods up there, poaching not beyond them, but then <\/span>nobody minded, as distinct from the small fry available in the <\/span>fields down here which, however, was not to be disdained, I\u2019m <\/span>told, hares and young magpies a delicacy and why not thrushes <\/span>and blackbirds? Her grandmother plucked them and Mme El <\/span>fried them slowly in olive oil in the \u2018cocotte\u2019, the casserole.<\/span>
No, they weren\u2019t bitter \u2013 that\u2019s what Jenny had reported after <\/span>tasting them in the Dordogne \u2013 perfectly eatable, but people <\/span>nowadays aren\u2019t the same anymore and she cautiously <\/span>mentions her early memories of catching larks in the fields <\/span>by means of nets, but that was forbidden a long time ago, she <\/span>hastens to add. Another point her husband had in common <\/span>with her father: they were \u2018coquins\u2019, rascals, by which she <\/span>means they liked to look at women! She makes clear that <\/span>her husband, being provided with one for life, was less prone <\/span>to this than her father who was unlucky with his marriage <\/span>from early on, left as he was with a tiny baby daughter on his <\/span>hands. Mme El is discreet, happy to drop hints, a joke more <\/span>than anything.<\/span>
We speak about Mr Bernard almost every time I\u2019m there, for <\/span>he is there, too, smiling from her wall on a portrait somebody <\/span>painted of him, \u2018b\u00e9ret\u2019 in place, standing behind a \u2018comp\u00f4te <\/span>de raisins\u2019, the wooden tubs used for the grape harvest, for <\/span>wine-making out of their own grapes was another thing he <\/span>learnt from his father-in-law and very well so,<\/span>
Mme El reckons, her son not as good at it as her husband,<\/span>
she is sure. When we arrived in the village they had already <\/span>separate bedrooms because she couldn\u2019t climb the stairs any <\/span>more. In the morning he used to come down and help her to <\/span>get dressed and ready for the day. When he was gone forever, <\/span>she poignantly confided months later that it was his tender <\/span>morning-greeting which she missed most.<\/span>
Both he and she had their own dog respectively, hers staying <\/span>in house and farm-yard with her, his, Mirza, a mixture of all <\/span>sorts, accompanying the lord and master on his tractor or <\/span>following the bicycle wherever he went, two bitches with <\/span>whom I got on very well. Mme El\u2019s dog for all her barking <\/span>wouldn\u2019t have dreamt of biting me, although she had a <\/span>reputation in that direction. Mr Bernard\u2019s dog appeared to <\/span>me in a dream after his demise, running to welcome me. I <\/span>told Mme El about it in case it could be comforting. \u2018C\u2019est du <\/span>pass\u00e9, tout \u00e7a\u2019, she says, a thing of the past; honestly, life, <\/span>come to think of it\u2026 A film, I say. She still looks non-plussed <\/span>and who wouldn\u2019t?<\/span><\/p>\n