Butterflies and Pepper.
OK. F wasn’t making it up. I thought he was. I thought it was just one of those sorts of things that guys said to girls when they were trying to impress them. It wasn’t. It was a true story.
He got most of it wrong mind you. N told me the real story while she was visiting. It wasn’t his godfather; it was his great-uncle on his mother’s side and he didn’t have a broken ankle, it was a broken leg. But he did cycle from Marseilles to Toulon (and in midsummer as well) to visit F’s mum and her new baby.
One of the reasons why I’d never paid the story much attention when F first told it to me was the fact that at the time I’d been neither to Marseille or Toulon, nor travelled on the road that links them. So I didn’t realise that the distance was a neat 64.6km (I’ve just looked it up) one way and of course I’d never even considered the fact that he’d have to cycle back as well; which makes it approximately an eighty mile round trip. Neither did I realise that the temperature in July, in the South of France, gets a bit warm. I was from Newcastle. What did temperaturesin the high 70’s mean to me? If we could wear t-shirts in July without getting frostbite we thought it was a warm day. The four degree increase in temperature in summer between the North and South of England had been the equivalent of moving to tropical climes as far as I was concerned.
So, at the time I didn’t pay much attention to F’s tale. Yes, I thought it was lovely that this great-uncle had made the effort to go visit a newly born baby and yes I thought that the fact that he did so was even more impressive owing to the fact he had a broken leg at the time, but other than thinking it a nice story about a nice gesture which demonstrated that F came from a loving and close-knit family I paid it little heed.
F had prefaced this story with all this other stuff too. Which I’d more or less ignored. Something about Cayenne and Papillon. Butterflies and pepper. That made a lot of sense to me; so I ignored it.
At the time I hadn’t read the book and I hadn’t seen the film and I hadn’t been born with an instinctive knowledge of famous French criminals - in fact other than knowing that the Krays really loved their old mum, my knowledge of the criminal classes was confined to M who lived up the road and who cut her speed with vitamin C (she was a very motherly dealer). Then, a ittle later on when F’s mum mentioned the story I learnt that Cayenne was the French version of Alcatraz and that Papillon had escaped from it.
And now, a fortnight ago, thanks to FN’s recommendation I read Papillion (if you haven’t read it, read it immediately got to be one of the most inspiring books I’ve ever read) and now I know the full tale. F’s great-uncle had been sent to Cayenne http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devil%27s_Island at the same time as Papillon and had known him quite well. At the end of the war the colony had been closed down and F’s uncle had returned to Marseilles. N did tell me what he was called but I’ve forgotten, I’ll check with F’s mum when she next calls it either began with a Fab or a Deg.
Now of course I’m older and although I’m interested in the link from the book to reality, I’m much more touched by the bonds and ties and love which compelled an elderly man with a broken leg to cycle eighty miles in order to see a new born baby.
August 8th, 2006 at 4:34 am
Great title!
You could also have called it The Porsche and the Balisong
August 8th, 2006 at 1:43 pm
oh, tell the story too!
i am flattered that you took my recommendation, and delighted that you enjoyed the book. its one of my all time faves.
August 9th, 2006 at 1:43 am
B…??? you’ve lost me…explain
FN. Of course I took your recommendation ( I was serious when I asked for the list. I’m now forty books down the eighty odd that eventually made it to the list) And I did thoroughly enjoy the book. It’s now doing the rounds of the rest of my family. But the rest of the story I don’t know. I’ll ask F’s mum when she calls on Sunday.
August 10th, 2006 at 3:15 pm
well, there’s a Porsche model called a Cayenne; and another term for a butterfly knife, called a papillon in French, is balisong, as google will promptly confirm. Just my dumb sense of humor & the fact that i love the title of this post.
August 11th, 2006 at 3:14 am
Not a dumb sense of humour at all! Now that you’ve explained further it appeals to my sense of humour as well. And, it would have made a much more relevant title as it references the images of journeying and prison mush more. Plus Balisong is very south sea island…
August 11th, 2006 at 5:49 am
true, though i can’t say i’d actually thought that far. But it’s not more relevant because it’s less open than butterflies and pepper. I think if i ever have kids i’ll call one butterfly and the other pepper.
August 15th, 2006 at 7:52 am
Of course there is the theory that F’s great uncle was barking mad and that why he cycled all that way with a broken leg.
Remember seeing the film Papillon years ago (late 70s?). And can remember my sister had the book - the cover was a picture of a rusty padlock with a butterfly on it. Funny I can remember that but not what I did yesterday!
August 15th, 2006 at 3:03 pm
B. Be careful which way you do that - you could end up with a boy named Sue type situation.
F. The barking mad theory is probably much more likely than any great desire to see a baby. But it wouldn’t have provided such a tidy sentence to end the post with.