Oldies are goodies. Take for example grand-maman. Eighty-seven the week after next—a Saturday-night-dancer en français we eat pizza and she tells me the talk we always talk, she talks lots. Every visit is one coke, pizza, and two Ah Caramels. Ah Caramels are only to be eaten chez grand-maman’s. Her name is Marie-Ange and it suits her. I like that she likes to eat and likes that I eat. She has false teeth. On the kitchen table, they pulled out her teeth. But that was a long time ago. Grand-maman uses swear words like “Sacré-fils” and “Fucké” and watches lots of TV. Song-shows are fun to watch together. Her favourite restaurant is St. Hubert and we cab it there on special occasions. Rice instead of fries, her cholesterol—Watch it! Grand-maman hasn’t travelled much—neither have I. She’s got her ideas and I got mine and we eat and talk et “Ma belle Catherine!” I love it when she exclaims.
