Bécassine's Apron

At the risk of offending Father Bradette, back in my home town of Les Escoumins, here’s the story of my “Bécassine Apron” … I do hope Father Bradette will find it in his heart to forgive me but for some unknown reason, I just have to tell this one!

First, you must remember that women’s lib did not succeed in freeing us from certain daily chores such as cooking and cleaning… and to keep us flawless and impeccable, wearing an apron is essential. So every woman still owns at least one apron.

Next you should know that when I was a little girl, I used to love reading the adventures of “Bécassine”: a naïve, slightly chubby, little maid who moved from Brittany to Paris, to earn a living.

She was as good as fresh bread and wore a white bonnet that completely hid her hair… I suspect she may have been a “blonde”. One day, my cousin Christine, aware of my juvenile passion, gave me an apron with the picture of my beloved Bécassine on it. I was very pleased, so pleased that I wore it religiously whenever doing chores. After numerous washings, my Bécassine apron is still my favourite.

Finally, a few years back, my aunt Celine, who lived in Fort Lauderdale Florida, invited Brian and I for dinner; our motorhome, our dog Toufou, Brian and I were in an RV Park, not far from her place. In preparation for the evening, Brian slipped into the shower just as I was about to. Since it always takes him quite some time to immerge, I thought why not do a little housecleaning while I wait my turn. Although I was naked, I slipped on my Bécassine apron out of habit.

Our neighbour (in an RV park that means 10 feet away),an older gentleman,who lived alone, was washing his little doggie, on a picnic table between our motorhomes. While glancing at our neighbour toiling over his dog, I notice our books, a couple glasses and a bottle of Perrier, on our picnic table … oblivious to the modesty of my cleaning attire, I rush out to clean up the picnic table before we leave. But I have only two hands so I have to go back to get the Perrier.

In passing I notice our neighbour looking at me somewhat idiotically, while mechanically scrubbing his dog … and looking at me again … somehow he vaguely reminds me of my dog smelling a biscuit … frankly, I thought his staring bordered on impolitely! … after all he was far too old to be showing any interest in me. By the time I went back a third time to wash the table. I thought my neighbour’s endless scrubbing might wear a whole in the dog.

While I am standing at the kitchen sink, Brian finally gets out of the shower… he comes up behind me … puts his arms around me affectionately and says: «Lyne, I just love your apron»!!!

I immediately realise why my neighbour was so boorish! Oh my God, oh my God… I am so embarrassed, I want to die. So as discreetly as possible, we scurry off to my aunt Celine’s for dinner.

The next morning, we start to prepare our departure from Fort Lauderdale … at the first sign of movement within our motorhome, our neighbour comes out and starts to wash his dog, again! … no doubt hoping to see my Bécassine Apron … one more time???