Monsieur Pamplemousse on Vacation by Michael Bond

Author:Michael Bond [Michael Bond]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749012458
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2012-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Todd and Mr Pickering were already seated at a corner table on the terrace when Monsieur Pamplemousse and Pommes Frites arrived for breakfast. Mr Pickering, umbrella hooked over the back of his chair, was studying what appeared to be a very old Baedeker guide to Southern France. Todd was doodling on a lined yellow legal pad.

Mr Pickering looked up enquiringly. ‘Ça va?’

Monsieur Pamplemousse responded with a non-committal up and down wave of his right hand. He couldn’t speak for Pommes Frites, but after the episode at the school he had woken during the night feeling somewhat less than 100%. He felt as though rain had seeped into every joint in his body.

‘Even the computer didn’t recognise my voice this morning,’ he croaked. ‘The spell-check has been having a field day. Everything was underlined in red. It will need reprogramming.’

‘Join the morning-after club,’ said Todd. ‘I’m still feeling impaired from last night.’ He gave Monsieur Pamplemousse a quizzical look. ‘From all I hear, it sounds like you got more equipment than the CIA. Right?’

‘I know a little restaurant down by the port in Antibes,’ said Mr Pickering, tactfully changing the subject, ‘where the fish soup is recommended by ear, nose and throat specialists everywhere. It’s a case of kill or cure. Either it will bring your voice back or else it will silence it forever. As an added plus the garlic not only kills bacteria and viruses, it stimulates the appetite.

‘In the meantime, to quote Macaulay, “An invitation to breakfast is a proof that one is held to be good company.”’

‘Not in the US it ain’t,’ said Todd. ‘Meaning no offence to the present assembly. Know what I mean?’

‘Anyway, that was in the nineteenth century,’ said Mr Pickering mildly. ‘Before the advent of power breakfasts.

‘Todd is having trouble with his order,’ he added.

‘I told the waiter I wanted my eggs sunny side up and you know what he said? “Monsieur, on ze Côte d’Azur everything is sunny side up.” Cheeky son of a bitch! As for hash browns, nobody outside the States seems to have heard of them.’

‘You can always rate a hotel by the quality of the breakfast,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse. ‘If the butter comes in a dish rather than a packet, if the confiture is home-made and not in a tiny pot, and if the milk is fresh and not Long Life, you can’t go far wrong.’

‘Even so,’ said Mr Pickering, ‘getting what you want can still be a complicated business. The Swedes are apt to start their day with pickled herring and soured milk. In the Netherlands it’s cheese and sliced meats. In the Balkans you are quite likely to end up with soup. Scotland has its porridge; Asia its rice. If you order bacon and egg in England, that’s exactly what you get – one egg; a throwback to a war that ended nearly sixty years ago. In America they take it for granted you mean two, but you practically have to fill in a questionnaire as to how you want them cooked.

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