Chez Dennis

I promised Dennis (donny) I would visit and finally, yesterday, I did ! I needed to check things out first as I couldn't quite understand the relationships, when I'd first met him at Claude et Fabiennes lunch. The little girl there had called both Claude and Dennis "Papi". This is the diminutive for grandad but it's also what grown men call the patriarch of the family ( if I ever run out of things to say I will tell you the near fatal story of the "papi-mobile").

I spoke to a mutual friend, who explained that Dennis was, to my great surprise, Fabiennes first
husband, and therefore the kid his direct grandchild and how in view of his handicap, they all looked after him. He also told me of the terrible accident where he had fallen out of a window and fractured his hip.

Armed with detailed instructions to find chez Dennis I went down into the village in the valley below me; I drove back and forth, trying to find his house; his village is, in fact, twinned with mine, we share a school system, a post office service and most importantly, charity bingo evenings and telethons, so I thought I knew it well.

But I had to ask their Mr Postmaster where the "F" does he live. He directed me back to where I'd started, a little tiny bungalow, which I'd discounted on the basis that no-one could possibely fall out of a window that low and do serious damage. Obviously Dennis could !!!!

As I entered his bungalow I said what a great view he had and he agreed that the mountains were pretty spectacular . No! not there, I said, look the other way, up there , you can see my house!!