Julie and Martine's Dad

Julie and and my dad

In early summer 1973 or 1974, my sister Bibi and I were out working in an orchard to make some money for our summer holidays. Throughout our teenage years we worked in the fields as soon as school was over and with the money we went go traveling. My dad’s friend called Mr Melmoux had a large apple farm 6 or 7kms from us. We were under age but he still payed us the minimum wage because we worked hard for him. He very a tall and quirky looking bloke, jovial and generous, a bit cheeky and always very kind to us girls. He had been a teacher in Algeria and therefore didn’t lose much when he left, like my dad.  So it was June time and we were falling apples from Mr Melmoux’s apples trees. The job was to leave an apple every 20 centimeters or so, such that the fruits left had a chance to grow big and juicy…We were working with a bunch of Moroccans and we found a magpie nest with a young in it at the very top of an apple tree. Farmers shoot mag pies as they do a lot of damage in the fruit trees: they choose the best fruits and peck at it once, then move on to the next fruit. From the men’s cries we knew this little guy would end up in their pan so we took it home. We put it in a cage, fed it bits of meat and called it Julie. After a few days it was obvious that this bird was growing fast and should now be let free. So we let it go and every time we called it, it came back …it was fun. Then Bibi and I left for our summer holiday . When we came back, Julie had decided that the coolest guy around was my dad. From his days in Algeria, my dad always wore one of those rimless hat when working around on the farm. He was a heavy smoker and had one cigarette after another hanging from his lips.  They were “Gauloises”. Julie had decided that dad’s hat was a great place to land. From that place she used to flick the ash from his cigarette. My dad didn’t care about the bird and always shook his head to get rid of it but Julie kept coming back. Nothing seemed to deter her so he got used to her in the end. In the autumn, with him on his tractor from morning to night plowing his fields, she was there on his head, flicking his cigarette's ash….It was a great sight and I wish we’d taken a picture of them 2, because it was short lived. before the winter Julie was gone and we never knew what had happened to her or why. And that was that.

Martine Lewis
Val says I love this story Martine, please keep them coming and Martine has copied it in French

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