We’ve finally met a real-life Obelix. He was introduced to me by T&M a while ago, but today I took LSS around to meet him and we realised of whom he reminded us. Of course he’s not as fat as Obelix, has a ponytail instead of two pigtails, and wears a scruffy old hat (even indoors) instead of a helmet, but that’s about the sum total of the differences. He loves wild boar, and could easily eat an entire boar, although perhaps not quite in a single sitting. Without the aid of any magic potion, he can quite easily pick up the front of a small car. Henceforth he shall be called (respectfully) Mr C.
My acquaintance with Mr C goes back several months. I had been attempting to press apples to make cider, and my home-made press was not up to the job. As luck would have it, T&M paid us a visit at that moment, and I was advised that Mr C would be able to help. He was only too delighted to assist, constructing a new apple press within a couple of hours by modifying a cylindrical object which previously held a flammable gaseous material, and which one is absolutely not allowed to modify.
My second visit was to enquire whether he would be able to find me a length of metal rod, of a specific diameter. I needed to make a new axle for my scratter (a device for cutting apples into little bits which can then be pressed to make cider). The place where he lives resembles a scrapyard, and needless to say within the space of ten minutes I had the piece of metal I required.
He is able to work for twenty-three hours out of every twenty-four, only needing an hour for sleep. And he has been known to work for five days straight, before going to sleep on the Friday evening and waking on Monday morning. There is very little respect for authority; he has spent some time behind bars over the trifling matter of some unpaid rent. And although his current abode is not officially connected to the national grid, it somehow has electricity. He rescued ten battery hens, and these are rewarding him with eggs every day.
He also loves cooking, and is constantly being given unwanted game. At last count he had three freezers full, one of which held (amongst other things) twenty plucked ducks. He makes his own saucisson, pâté, sausages, pasta, bread… the list goes on. On the two occasions I had visited him, each time I was presented with one or more of the above home-made items. I had taken him a bottle of our home-made cider in return, but it was now time to return the empty preserve jars, so LSS came with me. Unfortunately this meant we came away with yet another three preserve jars; containing wild boar pâté and pheasant pâté. And a wild boar saucisson.