Petite nouvelle écrite par un membre de ma famille ELLEN PARADISE qui faisait partie du club de Derby en Angleterre "writting for pleasure"

FROMAGE MADAME ? MONSIEUR ?

"Hotel Apollo, rue Notre Dame"

The taxi driver shrugged his shoulders. A look of disgust flitted across his face. Not a word did he utter as he deposited my luggage into the back seat of the cab.

It was my first visit to the continent and I had made my own arrangements. The description of the hotel in the brochure was excellent. Music in the restaurant, English spoken, tours with packed lunches provided. Just the thing for me.

I was met in the entrance by Madam who conducted me through a dingy bar, and up three flights of stairs to a small room on the top floor.

Here I timidly and breathlessly asked if this was the room with a view of the sea I had booked.

- "Ah oui, Madame", said mine host.

- " You stand on the chair..so.. look out of the window to the left and voilà, there it is. Lunch is fifteen minutes,

and off she went.

I learned from my table companions that the menu was monotonous. The packed lunches uneatable.

However, Sunday was special. We all had a leg of chicken. As there were fifty guests I think it must have been an octopus.

Music in the restaurant was british war songs played on an old pianola; Papa would put it on full blast, and Madam turn it down. This went on for some time, always ending with a row between them before the thing was switched off.

The highlight of each meal came at the end. Madam passed quickly through the dining room not pausing for a second. Cheese board held high above her head chanting as she went /

- " Fromage Madame, fromage Monsieur "?

As far as I know no one ever got the chance to have a nibble.

I was glad when the holiday came to an end. It was a disaster. I reckon that taxi driver knew it would be.

Ellen PARADISE