Tales from the Clinic — 8

Monsieur Morose sees me at my computer in the salon and offers me a coffee from the vending machine.

I like the coffee from the machine. It’s much better than any other coffee I’ve tasted from a vending machine. It’s much better than the coffee we get at breakfast time – made with chicory and powdered milk (I’ve got used to it). The machine coffee is good value – 55 cents for expresso, latte, cappucino, mocha etc.

There’s hot chocolate, with or without cream, and mint tea as well. After lunch, I enjoy an expresso with half a spoonful of sugar.

Monsieur Morose brings me my expresso. I invite hm to pull up a chair. I find Bourvil - La Ballade Irelandaise on Youtube and hand Monsieur Morose a set of headphones to listen. He’s pleased.

“Vous connaissez aussi Les Lacs de Connemara? Michel Sardou?“

I’ve never heard of either the song or the singer. I search on Youtube and find Michel Sardou and the Lakes of Connemara. I give Monsieur Morose the headphones again.

He nods and hums along with the music.

“You know a lot of things,” I say.

He tells me that when he was young he was taken for an idiot. “I lived a lot in my own head,” he says. “I read a lot. I remember things. Did you know, for example that the founder of the FBI was a great nephew of Napoleon?”

“Edgar Hoover?” I am incredulous.

“No. Charles Joseph Bonaparte.”

I google Charles Joseph Bonaparte and FBI“.

Et Voila!

Later that afternoon, I see Monsieur Morose and Madame Petite sitting in a sheltered spot in the garden. Monsieur Morose is on the mobile to his mother.