Conversations with My Gardener Page #5

But it's still a pleasure to behold.

You said that.

Why is it a pleasure?

You're the teacher, you tell me.

I've no desire to explain it.

It's something you feel.

Specialists explain.

It's the heart that feels.

And this makes me feel nothing.

Why all the fuss, then?

Because it's been commissioned.

I've made a piece of furniture.

How can I explain painting?

Painting that moves me,

makes me cry,

makes me joyful...

It's far beyond my capacities.

Unattainable.

It's fine as it is.

You've already sold it.

You're right. It's fine if I sell.

You should open a gallery.

Go on, choose one.

No, I haven't the money.

As a gift!

I can't accept.

- Pay me in vegetables.

- You're joking!

Lt'd take a lorry-load of veg

to pay for one.

Here, for your home.

No, no.

No, I can't.

You don't like it.

Where'd you get that from?

Do I like it? Yes.

I know a bit,

I've watched you work.

But the wife hasn't.

How could she appreciate it?

And they wouldn't go

with what we have.

We're more classical.

A horse painted on velvet,

Mont St Michel,

Lisou's childhood drawings...

No, it'd clash.

Look at the room it takes.

It'd be pretentious.

I'd get called Picasso.

No, its place is here.

Or with folks who buy,

who...

who...

Something wrong?

Sit down.

It's my plumbing.

The odd squall.

- I'll get some water.

- It soon goes.

I've got my medical on Wednesday.

Annual check-up,

courtesy of the railways.

They come in a coach

with everything aboard.

Doctors, nurses, equipment...

beakers for your pee,

social security forms...

But major breakdowns

is what they're good at.

Lungs, heart...

The eyes, if you ask.

I'm going to ask.

My sight's getting worse

and my old glasses are scratched.

That's better.

- I'll go home.

- Wait, I'll pay you.

Pay me next week

for two weeks.

No, no, wait.

It could've waited, though.

It's more for the wife,

she prepares the envelopes:

Holidays, clothes,

presents for the children...

Say hello to Miss Magda.

Just Magda, I said.

I'll even say good-bye.

Why good-bye?

I'm driving her to the train.

A few days at her sister's.

Her sister!

A few days is nothing.

I should say good-bye...

No, don't worry.

I'll tell her.

Right.

I'm ready.

- Gardener's going already?

- Yes, he's a bit peaky.

And don't call him that.

Say good-bye from me.

Shall we go?

Yes.

You shall catch your train.

Carole! My love.

What a surprise!

I had to come.

Have you lost my phone number?

That doesn't mean

I don't think of you. Often.

Let me introduce Charles.

Charles, my dad.

Hey.

Nice car.

Come on, let's have a drink.

- You know I saw your mother?

- She said.

Sit down.

- Here, love.

- No.

Did you say we should divorce?

What's she been telling you now?

I said it was silly living together

if you row all the time.

- I don't want a divorce.

- Why make it hard?

Maybe it's best not to bother

your friend with this.

He'll soon be family.

Because...

Yes. We're getting married.

I came to tell you. And to say

we'd be glad if you came.

Very kind.

- What do you do?

- I'm in real estate.

- How old are you?

- Almost your age.

I love your daughter.

I don't doubt it.

What about you?

Me? As Charles says,

I'm lucky to have fallen

for a man like him.

He has experience, he knows life

and what he wants.

We've been married 25 years.

How will you be in 25 years?

If you want my blessing...

I don't want anything.

It was just to let you know.

That's done.

And I'm sorry I came.

Come, Charles.

Sir.

You'll never change.

What a fool!

How's it going?

OK, old rascal?

Terrific.

They made me a belt to measure.

A big bandage.

Free, though.

A hernia coming, they reckon.

The wife alerted them.

She remembered I had a similar

plumbing problem ten years ago.

But for that,

they'd have opened me up.

At the time, young Le Louarn

fiddled around with me

and got me farting again.

- Tea?

- No, no...

No more tea, no more stimulants,

no starch, no game...

I've a list as long as your arm.

And kippers?

He didn't say.

I wasrt about to ask.

Right...

Have you kept an eye on it?

- On what?

- The garden. Watering, slugs...

No, I didn't think.

Something wrong?

Nothing. My daughter came.

Werert you pleased?

Not for long. We fought.

- Five or six cans...

- You're not listening.

- It's more important...

- I am listening.

She talked about you and her mother.

No, she wasrt alone.

She was with some guy.

- 30 years older.

- Like you and Miss Magda.

No, they're going to marry.

How would you have reacted?

I can't let a kid walk all over me.

Maybe, but...

decide which you love best,

your daughter or your pride.

I see you got a card too.

"I hope we'll see the artist,"

the widow said.

I don't know him.

I wouldn't forget Poileau.

- He must have been ribbed.

- Yes.

- Poileau pony...

- Don't.

Don't mock the dead.

But it's true, on his wedding day,

when the priest said,

"Juliette Benard, do you take

Georges Poileau to be your husband..."

one kid shouted "shirt".

Poileau shirt!

Everyone fell about.

You have to come.

It's tempting.

If you don't,

you'll alienate half the locals.

That's the widow.

So good of you to come.

He'd have been so pleased.

My condolences.

He's in here.

Thank you.

That's the mayor.

My duties

prevent me from attending

our friend's funeral,

so I'll just say a few words.

We'll miss you, my dear Poileau.

Your sudden, unexpected demise

both saddened and dismayed us,

Poileau.

You set an example of courage.

You fought the illness

and never gave in, Poileau.

You died as discreetly as you lived,

Poileau.

It weighs a bloody ton.

Loading it into the wheelbarrow,

I really felt it.

But it's so handsome,

it's won'th it.

- Got your bandage on?

- What? Oh, my belt. Yes.

It's a bother,

but I'll get used to it.

I watched you with the leeks.

Your stomach seemed cramped.

No, it takes effort to make a hernia.

Ren Le Louarn explained that

when I had my first.

It came from the rails,

A few of us would hump

All you need on your crew

is one or two slackers,

you feel the effort.

Ren looked after me

like a champion.

- Why not see him?

- He's retired. His niece took over.

Their family's got the gift,

it happens.

But the niece

can't hold a candle to Ren.

The old man was the best,

better than the lot of them.

Only he died.

Hard luck!

"Fitness doesn't last forever."

- Bardagaud said that.

- Who's Bardagaud?

You've seen him!

And he made you laugh.

He'd zip down the hill on his bike

going, "Ding-ding!"

- Oh, him.

- Yes, him!

He's dead too.

Run over by a car.

Didrt he signal with his right arm

to turn left?

That's him.

So it was bound to happen.

Maybe.

No fool, mind.

He could teach folk a thing or two.

We uneducated folk

were proud of him.

At rallies,

when some dandy stymied the delegate,

we'd all look to Bardagaud.

He'd soon send him ducking for cover.

He could have been an MP

but he was shy.

Shy and kind.

That doesn't work on the hustings.

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