Re: Salmonesca Returns !!!

[Cendrillon]

Next day Sal and Baz drove round to the Mairie not knowing quite what to expect. A young secretary showed them into the room where J-M was waiting to greet them.

As they gazed around the room they noticed a bust, well just the head and shoulders statue of  of a lady looking directly at them, someone called Marianne. Baz wondered whether she was one of the Maire's long lost relatives. A strange place this Mairie he thought and not at all like the council offices back home  in Essex.

[nectarine]

The secretary entered his office "Ze Anglais are waiting outside for you, M. le Maire". Jean-Marie nodded an acknowledgement as he quietly put the contents back into the envelope.

It had been a surprise ... while he was eating his morning croissant, dunked into a saucer of milky chocolate, he was surprised by a knock at his front door. Unused to early morning visitors, he strode quickly and opened the door but there was nobody there. He looked up and down the small chemin, where his house was he only residence, but saw nobody. As he was about to close the door he glanced down and saw an envelope at his feet addressed to him.

Curious he opened the envelope and slid out the contents onto the table. Why had somebody delivered this to him? What did they expect of him?

And now, as les Anglais waited for their meeting to which they had been summoned, JM was in a quandary.

The contents of this envelope changed everything ....

.

[Gardian]

Pierre-Yves le Pompodore le Frou Frou sat back in his chair in DDE HQ at Brive la Gaillarde.

He had happily recovered from the Gateau de Foret Noir incident, although he was far from sure that his fosse septique ever would. To be on the safe side, he had given it a few extra flushes of Eparcyl: damm the cost !!

He felt that his hand-delivered letter to the cretinous Maire of that non-descript Commune would do the trick.

It had been along the lines of "If you allow those anglais to remain in your Commune, you're asking for trouble. Anon"

Nothing inflammatory, nothing confrontational, just straightforward honesty.

It was going to be a good day, he felt sure.  A spot of lunch at the town Brasserie, followed perhaps by a swift trip up to the woods with la Patronne with whom he had formed a more than satisfactory relationship.

Just then the phone rang (and the day fell apart): "C'est Monsieur le Prefet: any suggestions as to how I make the sauce tomates to go with your nether regions?"    

[Gardian]

Pierre-Yves gulped.

"But Monsieur le Prefet, what can possibly be wrong?  The last time that you felt obliged to make a similar suggestion, I fixed the problem. Surely everything is in order?"

"Mais non" said M le Prefet. "I've had the Tour de France people on the phone and not only do they want 'a bit of local colour' and have that imbecile of a Maire as one of the dignitaries instead of me at the presentation thingy at the end of the stage, they also want to do a helicopter overhead of that Mas Bazon-quelquechose during the race".

"Consider yourself finished around here Pompodore".

 

[Gardian]

Jean-Marie le Maire had made up his mind.

He hadn't got where he was today without being a man of principle. Dodgy annonymous letters were to be ignored. What's more, he quite liked the anglais, particularly Salmonesca with whom he had had a previous 'theatrical' involvement at King's Cross (how on earth a rural French Maire would ever have experienced that is beyond belief, but life is often stranger than fiction!)

"Monsieur Bazzer" (pronounced as in Baz-eyre) "et Madame Salmonesc" (he deliberately left off the 'a' because ... well because), "I have made a decision".

"Le Tour de France will be passing through our beautiful village in two weeks time and I would like you to join me on the Commune Podium as the riders pass through. It will be a wonderful moment for us here and I will of course be wearing my mayoral sash. Your presence on the podium will be an indication that I see you as members of the Commune to be included on my Liste for the next Election". 

Baz and Sal were overcome with joy. Their first set of guests had gone, the plants brought by the Dutchman were growing well and the future looked bright.

Nothing could go wrong. (Oh yes it could !)

[Gardian]

So, dear readers, all tales must come to an end.

It was the day of the passing of the Tour de France.

Sal and Baz were to be Jean-Marie's guests on the mayoral podium as the race passed through the village at 15.30. Salmonesca decided that this was the day for her to wear her fetching leopard skin trousers and tiger stripe top. If the TV cameras caught it, the media would be impressed. Baz went for his Union Jack t-shirt and shorts. They were to be joined by Francoise the District Nurse and a few other bods who had elbowed their way in.

To the west at Brive la Gaillarde, Monsieur le Prefet was also gathering his dignitaries. These included Le President du Region and his wife amongst several other 'major players'. The massive set-up for the Tour was all in place: dejeuner was in full swing. Nothing could go wrong. 

To the east, Pierre-Yves was setting up for a pic-nic with La Patronne of La Brasserie de Brive prior to watching the Tour pass by. His relationship with La Patronne had blossomed and P-Y felt that things were now moving on from an occasional post-Caillettes afternoon visit to the woods.  It was going to be a nice interlude in the countryside.

Just up the road was Bernard.  Remember him? A member of the Commune Conseil, but shall we say 'Not one of the brightest'. He had been invited to the podium lark, but it wasn't for him. Too many anglais around these days and by the way he'd forgotten all about what it was for.

His mini-tanker of slurry needed to be taken to Marcel's place and he got down to the main road some time after 15.00. There was a gendarme there!  He hadn't seen a gendarme in years. "What's going on, I want to cross the road to go to Marcel's?"

"Err non, Monsieur. La route est fermee jusqu'a 16.30" said the gendarme, "and the reason for the closure is upon us. Le Tour est arrive!"

Bernard started to turn his tractor which was towing the mini-tanker of slurry, but the tanker snagged on a boulder and toppled over. Within seconds, a tsunami of fetid liquid inondated the road. The first red car went through the ghastly mess and quickly changed colour. The riders were similarly overcome, in more ways than one.

Within minutes, the cavalcade passed Pierre-Yves and La Patronne.  "They seem to have got a bit dirty en route" said La Patronne.

As the race approached the village, with Jean-Marie and his invitees on the podium, news was coming through on the loudspeakers of an incident just out of town. The kind of incident was pretty much apparent when the slurry-bedecked cavalcade passed through. Jean-Marie could only wave weakly.

The arrival in Brive-la Gaillarde was low-key. No sprint finish. No media interviews with the riders - they were too busy being hosed down. Un desastre! Monsieur le Prefet was not parfum du mois. He fainted.

Epilogue to follow.

   

 

 

[Gardian]

                        EPILOGUE

It will probably go down in history as l'Etape du Tour to end all etapes.

Le President du Region and Monsieur le Prefet were beside themselves and never got over the event politically, and frankly how cared?

Bernard the slurry-man, couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. He didn't put his name forward for the next liste at the election.

Jean-Marie le Maire needed immediate attention from Francoise the Nurse after the passing of the Tour, but her professional conduct prevented this from extending any further, much as J-M might have wished. It seemed likely that he would continue in his role as Maire in the absence of .............. well, anybody else.

Pierre-Yves and La Patronne de la Brasserie de Brive continued to develop their relationship. It was 'suggested' to P-Y that since the malodorous event that afflicted Le Tour had occurred on his patch and in his capacity as DDE Chef, he might want to think about early retirement. He needed no second bidding. He now works as Maitre d' at La Brasserie de Brive and if you're ever passing, just ask him about the events described in this sorry tale. You can't miss him.

And Bazzer and Salmonesca? They continue to live happily ever after. International guests come and go at Le Mas Bazonesca.

Baz's signature dish of sausage, egg, chips & beans continues to go down well, though less so with the 'foreigners'. His jocular mentions of "El Alamein" and "Trafalgar" are less well received by their German and French guests, although for him its water off a duck's back.

Salmonesca is Salmonesca. Who knows what the future holds?  We'll see in a few years time ............... maybe!

             ----------o FIN o----------