Woodman

In the context of my recent hospitalization and convalescence, it had been planned that my daughter Emmanuelle would come down here to Gamone for a few days, followed by my ex-wife Christine. But things got screwed up at the last moment in that my two would-be guardian angels fell ill with some kind of bronchitis. Fortunately, from the moment I got back here to Gamone, I realized that I was in excellent form, so I didn't need anybody to take care of me. Be that as it may, my friends Tineke and Serge have been dropping in with all kinds of prepared dishes. I've been leading a most comfortable life, particularly since my son François took the train down to Gamone for a few days, between his recent filming in Madagascar and the forthcoming cutting and editing operations in Paris.

Besides demonstrating his cooking talents, François has been working non-stop at Gamone as a woodman.

Over the last couple of years, many of my old walnut and cherry trees have died. Some of them have been blown over in tempests, and the wood has to be piled up and burned.

François decided to start felling certain dead trees, with a chain saw, instead of waiting for them to be blown over.

Often, when he's working, the rest of us are standing there looking on: that's to say, me, Sophia and the two donkeys. The weather is fine, and the burning wood emits a delightful fragrance. For me, watching my son working is a nice kind of convalescence.