Château Charlie

Following last week's horrific events in which the the staff of magazine Charlie Hebdo were murdered at their desks along with the policemen who were guarding them, all of France became Charlie in solidarity. To demonstrate the point, on Sunday afternoon the entire population française amassed in front of Town Halls up and down the country to support liberté, egailté and fraternité –the values upon which this illustrious République is based. Everyone declared Je suis Charlie and wore a name badge to prove it. And in case there weren’t enough people in Paris already, Dave C jumped on the first ferry and rushed over to lock arms with his new best friends, Frank and Angie. 

La Chatte upside down

Even the residents of local Charbonville declared themselves Charlie, or perhaps, given the religious affiliation of many of them, Ahmed, the policeman who was tragically killed defending the right of Charlie to behave, well, like a right Charlie if he felt like it.

Twenty-seven people, however, were not standing up to be counted as Charlie. Twenty-six of these had eschewed the chance of solidarity, equality and brotherhood in order to shut themselves up in a chilly village hall and ‘enjoy’ a day of yoga. La Chatelaine was among them, practising headstands and chanting Omm while the rest of the country solidified. La Chatte regretfully feels she has missed a moment, but there, it’s probably one of many. History takes its course without her and despite her. The headstands however, are definitely coming on.

The twenty-seventh absentee in the Charlie demonstrations was, of course, le Comte. He would have liked to have gone but he had some important solidifying of his own to finish before weather turned. So while almost everyone else was Charlie, le Comte remained Chris and got manfully on with his concreting.  

This morning la Chatte took herself into Charbonville to stick up some posters for English lessons that no one will come to, and to politely enquire about the possibility of obtaining the Weekly Charlie when it comes out tomorrow. The lady in the tabac, who is strangely named Madame Marriage (and she is, to a man with curly hair and beard) giggled behind her hand and explained that the entire town had already asked for a copy so la Chatte would only get one if she got up very early. This is unlikely to happen. Le Comte and la Chatte are not early birds. Nor are we, for that matter, nightingales. Rather some kind of starling that appears around lunchtime.

Quel fromage, all the same. It has such a wonderful cover. The idea of the Illustrious Prophet (May Peace be upon Him) being Charlie really appeals. So much simpler when everyone has the same name, don't you think?