We were a large and happy family. Eight brothers and sisters born in eleven years, between 1947 and 1958. Happiness for the parents, happiness for the children. Like everywhere, we had our share of bickering, but good understanding reigned in our self-centered group and not very open to “others”. I had no friends at school and when people asked me why, I replied: “I have my sisters, I have my brothers. » The clan generated the admiration of many, the jealousy of others.
I was the third and eldest boy. As such, my parents, traditional Catholics, rather left-wing, gave me an important role, and I assumed it without always realizing what this represented for the other members of the siblings. We lived in a large house in the Paris suburbs. When my last sister was born, in 1958, the parents said that the ideal would be to have a vacation spot with enough space for the five girls and three boys.
One day at Easter, they take me by car, a long journey far from the tourist circuits. We are going to the Var, the region of origin of my mother's ancestors. I'm 8 years old, and I'm discovering Grand Jas with them. It's their dream house. House is saying a lot. The owner, who showed us around, offered to sell us the land and offer us the “pile of stones” on it. Le Grand Jas is a vast, dilapidated sheepfold, with rooms everywhere and stairs in every direction. The walls are washed by the rains and whipped by the mistral. Half of the roof collapsed, dragging the upstairs floor up to the vaulted ceiling of the ground floor. There is no running water or electricity. It's uninhabitable.
However, very quickly, this place becomes our adventure playground. The boys cross the road to go, equipped with large pitchers, to draw water from the spring. Everyone washes in the courtyard, where the wheat was once threshed. We light ourselves with candles that we hang on the edge of our beds. On our children's books, even today, pages are burned or stuck by wax. It's a miracle nothing ever caught fire!
Wonderful memories
We go there twice a year: once at Easter, once in the summer. To cross France on national roads, my father purchased a family Citroën Traction, the one with three windows on each side, equipped with an additional row of seats – a wooden bench cobbled together by my grandfather. father – and a baby hammock hanging on either side. We fit our twenty feet wherever we find room. We leave at 3 a.m. and arrive at sunset, meal break, breakdowns and punctures included.
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