Posted by: kathandroger | November 3, 2019

Behind a Mask.

It  was Halloween a few days ago. As in the UK, the event has become more and more popular in France, and naturally one of our local bars had a special evening to mark the event. Everyone was invited to dress for the occasion, but as always, only a minority did so. Anyway, it was a good time, with the special band, a hasty conglomeration of the local talents, performing a variety of songs in French and English to the delight of the sometimes scary looking audience.IMG_1145 (2)

But what to wear myself? I had intended to go in the costume worn at our play in the village when I was cast as a Count in the Middle Ages. The white wig was a bit horrific, but the frills on the coat was not scary at all, and something else had to be found. Thank goodness for the childrens’ masks in our local supermarket. With an old raincoat the effect was, at any rate, a bit different!IMG_1142

Life behind a mask is wonderful. The looks of wonderment I received were a joy. To be genuinely unrecognised by frequent acquaintances has to be experienced to be appreciated. Some were looks of fear, some of puzzlement and some of “what is that silly arse doing?” It helps to keep silent if one has a strong London accent, but a few mumbled words in French keeps every one guessing! The only problem was that there was a meal as well as the necessity to imbibe, and so the mask had to be lifted. I was a little disappointed that a six year old lad was not in the least scared by my roaring at him, and also found that wearing an outdoor garment in a crowded bar does tend to lead to severe overheating! I don’t think there are many of us who like to look ridiculous, but when we do it together it seems altogether different. A good evening.

My sojourn to the next region is now over. The second week was marked by some sort of little animal eating first a tomato, and then an apple that I had left on a work surface. I found a “humane” trap in the main house, and baited it with a bit of cheese. Sure enough, in the morning the culprit had been caught. IMG_1141He is called a Lerot in France, a kind of Dormouse, and a very pretty little chap. They are commonly found in houses often heard running about in the roof spaces, and do little harm. I had only seen dead ones until now, and was sad that the mouse had trapped his tail and one hind leg in the snapping door. It was very much alive though, and ran off rapidly when I released it outside. I hope it is OK, and I even ate what was left of my apple!

Well the Rugby is all over and we didn’t win. I thought that we had done so well against the All Blacks that it would be hard to repeat the performance, but in the end South Africa were better that us. I am not very nationalistic, and I am sure that the win will do more for morale in their country than it would have done in ours. And the fact that it was a genuinely mixed race team from a country so recently battling apartheid really underlines the importance. Well done South Africa!


  1. Lérots are adorable aren’t they, with their little Zorro masks? I’ve only ever caught a glimpse of a live one, otherwise only seen dead ones too.

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