ticket to London. (With Jo. Two days there at least.)
A small radio for the kitchen.
A new ironing board.
An iron (saw a very nice Calor steam turbo in Auchan, 30 0.99 euros).
Intensive treatment and repair mask for my hair. (Marionnaud, 2.90 euros and 10.20 euros respectively.)
Belle du Seigneur. (To reread. Saw Folio edition in Brunet.)
Copy of Les finances personnelles pour les Nuls.
Underpants and socks for Jo.
A flat-screen TV. (???)
All the James Bond films on DVD. (???)
T he journalist is back.
Bringing croissants and a little tape recorder. I can’t wriggle out of it.
No, I don’t know how it all began. Yes, I wanted to share my passion. No, I never really thought so many women would be interested. No, tengoldfingers is not for sale. I don’t do it for the money. No, I don’t think money can buy that sort of thing. Yes, it’s true that I make some money from the advertising. It means I can pay a salary to Mado, who helps me.
Yes, I enjoy it and yes, I’m proud of it. No, it hasn’t gone to my head, and no again, you can’t really call it a success. Yes, success is dangerous when you stop doubting yourself. Oh yes, I doubt myself every day. No, my husband doesn’t help with the blog. He does help me think about what we stock for the site, yes, because sales are going well; we even sent a cross-stitch kit to Moscou yesterday. What, Moscow in Russia? I laugh. No, the Moscou that’s a district in Toulouse near the Canal du Midi. Oh, that one. No, there’s no message in what I’m doing. Only pleasure, and patience. Yes, I do think that not everything from the past is outmoded. Giving yourself a chance to possess something very good, taking your time, that’s important. Yes, I think everything does go too fast these days. We talk too fast. We think too fast – if we think at all, that is! We send emails and texts without reading them through, we lose the elegance of proper spelling, politeness, the sense of things. I’ve seen children publish pictures of themselves vomiting on Facebook. No, no, I’m not against progress; I’m just afraid it will isolate people even more. Last month there was a news item about a young girl who wanted to die, she told her 237 Facebook friends in advance and no one reacted. What did you say? Yes, she’s dead. She hanged herself. No one told her that it would mean twenty minutes of atrocious pain. That suicides always want to be saved, but only silence answers their suffocated pleas. Well, since you want a formula so badly I’ll say that tengoldfingers is like the fingers of a hand. Women are the fingers and the hand is their passion. Can she quote me on that? No, no, it sounds ridiculous. On the contrary, she thinks it’s touching. A pretty comparison.
Then she turns off her tape recorder.
I think I’ve got lots of wonderful stuff for my article, thank you, Jo. Oh, one last question. You must have heard about the woman from Arras who won eighteen million in the lottery? Suddenly I am wary. Yes. If it was you, Jo, what would you do with it? I don’t know what to say. Would you expand tengoldfingers ? she goes on. Help women living alone? Set up a foundation?
I start stammering. I . . . I don’t know. Anyway . . . anyway, that’s purely theoretical. And I’m not a saint, you know. I live a simple life, and I like it that way.
Thank you very much, Jo.
‘ P apa, I’ve won eighteen million euros.’
Papa looks at me. He can’t believe his ears. His mouth opens in a smile, which turns to laughter. Nervous laughter at first, turning to joy. He wipes away the little tears that spring to his eyes. That’s wonderful, my little girl, you must be pleased. Have you told Maman? Yes, I’ve told her. And what are you going to do with all that money, Jocelyne, do you have any idea? That’s just it, Papa, I don’t know. What do you mean, you don’t know? Anyone would know what to do with a sum like that. You could have a new life. But I like my life as it is,