Tuesday, October 6, 2009

October 6, 1936

I just finished a book the other day.

That's all.

I just wanted you all to know that I read a book.

À bientôt, mes enfants!

6 comments:

Penny Prévert said...

Congratulations, Mother. You said you wouldn't make it, but I knew you'd soldier on if you had plenty of champagne and smelling salts at your side. Which was it? War and Peace? The Canterbury Tales?

Madeleine Prévert said...

Well, now, Mummy can't be expected to remember - exactly - what book it was. It had a lovely red morocco binding, if I recall. And it was quite small enough to fit into my handbag. There were absolutely - no - pictures, if you'll believe me. It was quite charming. Yes? Yes. Oh, blast, I have NO idea what it was! But it doesn't matter, does it? I did read a book and that will - have - to suffice!

How is the skiing, darling? I do hope you're not getting too sunburnt and brown; when you rejoin me on tour, I don't want everyone thinking that I'm performing with a HINDU! Haha!

Penny Prévert said...

Mother, you're doing it again. Honestly, do you want to alienate all our fans but the Parisians? But, yes, I'm having an absolutely wonderful time. I have the most charming skiing instructor. I'm just mad for him! He plays the ukelele. Mother, can I keep him? Couldn't we use a ukelele on tour?

Madeleine Prévert said...

No. Don't be ridiculous. A ukelele? How very Années Folles! And, therefore - completely - passé. And actually, darling, so are skiing instructors.

Now, do be a dear, finish up there and come join your mummy as soon as you can. Yes?

Penny Prévert said...

But mummy darling, I must, must, must have him! He has green eyes. And such a physique. And I'm sure if he plays the ukelele he could surely pick up the violin. Last night he took me for a skiing lesson under the stars free of charge. He has such grace, Mother. Why, his form is completely Fred Astairean. No, I won't come home until you say I can keep him.

Madeleine Prévert said...

What rot, darling! You are not thinking with your head, dear, but rather something more...southerly! Silly girl. It's in the blood, of course; I was just like that when I was your age. That's how I found myself - entangled - with your beastly father! I do hope you'll grow out of it, and quick.

And - please - do not go skiing at NIGHT! I shan't be too happy to need come and - chip - you off of a glacier!