In fact, little is left of the evening in which to complete the task after the mayor has introduced every single person involved in running the commune to the rest of us, in the process forgetting a few individuals, being reminded, probably saying at least four times that is all he is going to say, then thinking of something else.
For our "new" mayor (Covid having intervened) it's the first time he's had a chance to be centre stage in front of all of us and he makes the most of it.
The place feels smarter under his guiding hand. An enormous new TV on the stage at the salle des fêtes has a continuous slideshow of how money is being spent in the village. The salle itself has been redecorated with better insulation and new heaters on the walls. Those of us who have come well wrapped up are too warm by the time his speech has finished and there is a slight sigh when he hands the mike to the local priest and then to the elegant blonde who is our representative from the Assemblée Nationale. She knows her audience - her first words are about protecting the local "chasse".
The equally elegant man in the dark cashmere coat and black mask (one of the few in the room still concerned about Covid) from the local Commune of Communes has the wisdom merely to give us all New Year greetings when it comes to his turn to speak.
The small, elderly retired farmer who introduced himself to us when we arrived writes down his address and elaborate details as to where to find his house. He tells me his father was a "domestique" to a previous family who owned our house many years ago. It sounds like things did not end well and I'm not sure I want to know more details. He is also trying to persuade us to join a country dance group he goes to - he talks about "Scottish dancing" - I am briefly excited about the thought of the Gay Gordons and Stripping the Willow - not danced for fifty years - but reality and Tod's two left feet bring me back down to earth.
And I'm back down to earth again this morning - the dining room table is covered in decorations that need putting into boxes and up into the loft. At least I managed to get them off the tree last night before bedtime.
And French Christmas decorations? Some will still be seen in situ at Easter. No Twelfth Night superstitions here.
The equally elegant man in the dark cashmere coat and black mask (one of the few in the room still concerned about Covid) from the local Commune of Communes has the wisdom merely to give us all New Year greetings when it comes to his turn to speak.
The small, elderly retired farmer who introduced himself to us when we arrived writes down his address and elaborate details as to where to find his house. He tells me his father was a "domestique" to a previous family who owned our house many years ago. It sounds like things did not end well and I'm not sure I want to know more details. He is also trying to persuade us to join a country dance group he goes to - he talks about "Scottish dancing" - I am briefly excited about the thought of the Gay Gordons and Stripping the Willow - not danced for fifty years - but reality and Tod's two left feet bring me back down to earth.
And I'm back down to earth again this morning - the dining room table is covered in decorations that need putting into boxes and up into the loft. At least I managed to get them off the tree last night before bedtime.
And French Christmas decorations? Some will still be seen in situ at Easter. No Twelfth Night superstitions here.
I remember those street decorations...if they came down by Easter you were lucky! Our first mayor's idea of a year end report was to welcome everyone, announce that we all knew each other and wave towards the barrels set up on the side of the salle des fetes. No politicians were invited!
ReplyDeleteHello Fly, I think in one or two places they never come down! Your first mayor sounds wonderful! I think our current "new" one is getting a lot done, hence perhaps his enthusiasm for keeping us all informed. I wonder what his committee meetings are like!
DeleteIn our old village the next rungs up (?) politicians were there to facillitate the Mayor's advancement. We just enjoyed our galette des rois and wine, a good evening. As to the decorations, the main electric ones came down but we loved spotting the odd deflated Father Christmas still climbing his ladder much later in the year. Lesley
ReplyDeleteHello Lesley, you could be right - this new mayor is much more political than the old one - who was wandering round the hall looking a bit lost. Just remembered there was a Father Christmas dangling from the top of a crane on the way out of town. I must check and see if he's still there. :-)
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