Odette

The house we're currently living in, was in fact the second home I bought here. My first was a big old farm complex with lots of lovely stone outbuildings, barns, etc. This ancient, one-roomed ruin, I bought as a future Garconniere for my oldest son; never thinking that we'd actually end-up living here ourselves.

I started working on the house almost at once; it was just 150 metres behind our home, and I soon got to know the two Parisian ladies who lived about 50 metres further on in a very beautiful old farmhouse 'next door'.

Jeannine and Odette were of the 'shirt and tie' persuasion, and were Paris escapees. They were attractive, cultured, and artistic. Odette was very involved in translating ancient Zen tracts into French and English. We got on very well together.

Odette was the boss of the couple. She was demonstrative and authoritarian, whist remaining friendly and welcoming. If she didn't approve of something I was doing, she'd let me know in no uncertain terms.

For some reason she was very anti 'mushrooming'. She hated that people would go scratching about in the woods, disturbing nature. I imagine it was the Zen side of her character that preferred calm to chaos.

The large painting (above) was all about her 'moaning'. She would tell me that I should be in my studio, not scrabbling about in the woods looking for Cepes. When she lectured me, I always felt very chastised.

Sadly after a few years they decided to sell their lovely home, and build a large wooden 'chalet' amongst the woods about 4 miles away. I continued to see quite a lot of them, as they would enlist my help with things they couldn't manage themselves; and that happened quite often.

Then again after a few more years they decided to move to the mountains. It was the ultimate Zen contemplation environment for their later lives. The only problem was that having asked for help moving them down to the Cevennes we arrived at an isolated derelict barn on the side of a hill, which they declared was their new home. It had hardly any roof, no doors, and no windows; it didn't even have a floor. We tried to persuade them that it wouldn't be possible to move in with all their fine furniture, paintings, antiques, etc; but Odette insisted, and we eventually left them feeling that we'd abandoned them to a life of misery. I imagine they must have moved into a local hotel or flat. That was the last time I saw either of them.

When my daughter, Tenpin, had her first son, I wrote to Odette at a hospital in Paris where I'd heard she was a patient; I knew she'd love to receive the news. Sadly my letter was returned 'DCD' (décédée).

When they moved away from the house next door, Odette gave me a very old trunk, on which is painted her father's name and address in Paris. I wonder if his name was Georges? 

I think of Odette Petrequin often.