(Le Café des Amis)
Dr.Charbonnier was an elder, friendly man who always seemed to be a bit under stress. I remember when he had to open my furunculous neck a Sunday, a Sunday I don’t remember well. What season was it? I just know I went to the Confiserie down in the village to buy some canapés, my parents and we children used to eat after lunch. Not my brother of course, he was too young and the more he had a sugar-allergy and wasn’t allowed to eat ham and other meat neither not to scratch his skin until his blood was running. But that was none of Dr.Charbonnier’s business, he was just for those small emergencies which occurred when we fell down from the farm-trailer-extension or the wooden open-framed cart, he put iodine on our bleeding knees and said: this will hurt a bit, but we were used to and this would be our warrior-tatoo for some few days to come. He came by car from lower village, I guess it was a Sunbeam, of course he had a small black bag for his instruments, and after he’d done his job he went – who knows? – to the Café des Amis nearby to have a Fendant or two.
Montolieu, my first school