Patricia Kaas. The childhood in a big family: as we celebrated Christmas of
“Already late. I am eight years old, and my eyelids hard fall. The garland on a fir-tree winks at me, hypnotizing. I comfortably settled on a canape in heat of Christmas Eve“, - the French singer Patricia Kaas famous for the whole world who grew up in a family where there were seven children remembers in the biography. Today, in Christmas Eve, we publish the head from her memoirs.
Today the Christmas Eve, and mother strives in kitchen, prepares, cuts, mixes, glazes. On fire there are pans, exchanging the aromas. And though I know that in them, my nose does not wish to agree with it. I dart about on kitchen and as a small mouse, I involve a nose smells of the delicacies prepared by my fairy. A favourite dish of the father - snails in green garlick sauce. Then the boiled vegetables which are starting up cheerful bubbles, and roast, the king of a table, in a dish on a carpet from onions, tomatoes and herbs, expecting the turn to get to an oven. This main Christmas course is loved by all, and here the rabbit or a turkey have opponents among us, children. At such number of children it is difficult to reach agreement concerning the menu. We are seven, as well as gnomes, Samurais, wonders of the world, lives at a cat, days of week and crystal spheres!. At first five boys and then two girls. Today all of us here, even the seniors who left the house - Robert, Raymond and Bruno - came with the wives. It is pleasant to me when in the house there is a lot of people when all of us gather when the close drawing room cracks from movements, laughter, thunderous voices which are warmed up by alcohol. I like to guess who came when the call rings. I like it to a mnogolyudya for one evening, shining eyes, the smiling mother, the turned pink father. It is good, it is smooth, it is soft, it is similar to mousse or snow flakes.
Aromas of a feast, sounds of pleasure and my family, my clan. I look at them, I am proud of the brothers and the sister. Robert as the man with the man, speaks with the father to whom he is similar. Egon jokes with Karina. Raymond and Bruno help mother, and Dani is amused, lifting mine pepelno - blond braids. Six identical blue eyes, at some they have slightly oblong. I am the last child. I am eight years old. To my sister twelve, and all others are much more senior than me. I was born after the whole series of brothers. Actually, mother wanted the girl. But gave birth to five boys. And as she very much regretted that it has no daughter, increased number of children to six, having given birth to Karina. It should stop on it, but I conceived incidentally unexpectedly was born. The child of spring, the reviving desire who was born on December 5. Seven children, whole tribe, collective. And harmony, and not only on a Christmas Eve.
to Mother, certainly, have no time to have a rest. Especially as it very seriously treats the role of mother of numerous family. She feeds us, washes, caresses, listens, looks after us and brings up us. It always nearby. Mother tenderness when it is necessary, but also severity, when we, children, to it we compel it. She allows us not to go to school when feels that we too were tired or we do not want to go there at all. But mother can and is very strong become angry when our behavior does not suit her. It has principles: it is impossible to lie, it is necessary to be fair and valid. If it not so, she shouts. We are afraid of her anger from - for heights of the sound made by it and its sharpness. If to anger mother, then her voice soars up up and becomes so shrill that we are forced to close ears. We try not to annoy her, partly because perfectly we realize that, how hard it is necessary her. It lifts up us, having at the order only very modest earnings of my father - the miner.
Tonight mother very pretty. On it a white blouse from fabric with easy satin gloss and the black skirt opening harmonous legs. She did not take off an apron not to soil clothes when cuts roast at a table. We with Karina preened feathers in a bathroom before all gathered. My sister who is incidentally been born the girl did not like to put on a dress. I, on the contrary, was so glad to it! I even asked mother to rouge to me cheeks. But here I will only acquire the right for nail varnish when I cease to gnaw them. Karina grumbles, her dress from green velveteen with a white insert seems to it inconvenient. And when she looks at the legs, nearly cries. She hates these black varnished shoes and tried was all to assure that they to it are small that they shrank in a case. And I forbid mother to touch my hair. Last time, when she was engaged in my hairdress, I refused to go to school, being afraid of sneers. I admit that she is a hairdresser not from the best, but mother refuses to agree with it. She adores winding our hair on hair curlers and leaves them on our heads at several o`clock. When we with the sister look in a mirror, we see that we are similar on two the dumbfounded lambs. But this evening - by way of exception - I ask it to braid to me braids. It agrees, I risk, braids can appear different thickness and not at one level, but me all the same. I already noticed that in people there is not enough symmetry. So why braids have to be symmetric?
of Patricia Kaas with a family, 2009, a photo source: Republicain - lorrain. fr
Eventually, my sister is given, and in ten minutes she forgets about what in shoes to it is inconvenient, and the insert from acryle scratches skin. Until Egon who finds ridiculous in everything does not remind her of it. He speaks to it on a border adverb: “Wisichenduaus (You saw to whom you are similar)?“ My sister instantly reddens, and she is already ready to answer, but at this moment mother gives a sign for which all of us wait several hours. To a table! This word of all reconciles, and the tureen proceeding the ferry in the center of a table makes us silent. In any case, for that time, so far all eat first course. There pass several seconds, so far all of us - as if for the first time - taste mother`s soup. And then languages are untied, glasses are filled, and in a drawing room the small noise of voices, usual for Kaas`s family hangs again. And the ring of tableware forced to concede to noise of the loud voices which are distributed around a table is not heard soon any more.
this evening to an oven which is heated coal should not stand idle. The meal on a Christmas Eve lasts several hours, and we with crafty pleasure try to prolong a holiday. We do not hurry to leave. Actually, it is also a gift, there are no others. There is too much us that we were able to afford to spend money for the real gifts. Instead we give each other some trifles and we compensate lack of other gifts, tightening a dinner. We collect heat, love, more reliable, than any gift, and more durable.
Ya I do not long about the Peer - Noel from a song and millions of his gifts because I have my own wizard who, by the way, works eleven months in a year. His name is monsieur Moretti. It not only works as the night watchman at factory of toys, but also keeps cafe in Kreyttsvalda where will organize small concerts and competitions of singers. At it I am for the first time ripe for public. A week ago he presented me a new doll, a latest model. I just am crazy about it. It is necessary to tell that it is surprising: when I swing her hand, it from a mouth has bubbles. But I like other doll which monsieur Moretti presented me before this: she swims when you bring her.this time roast literally melts
I in the mouth. Papa and Egon loudly low from pleasure, the others approve a head nod. It as a participle, we are connected by at the same time family bonds and pleasure. Mother took off an apron and at last sat down longer, than for ten minutes. In kitchen there is no dish left which would demand its supervision. It tastes the small potatoes fried in oil until all of us swallowed.
Allocated with excellent sense of humour which it seldom showed us Raymond, the most silent of my brothers, already ate up and is amused with red wax of a candle. And Robert gathered sauce from faultlessly pure plate: he wants an additive. Dani, the slave to habit always clearing the table already got up. It likes a holiday, but not to liking a disorder which accompanies it. It is so serious that works at school. It will continue study, it strikes us with the marks and laudatory words of teachers in its address. In our general bedroom - Karina, its and my - he tries to impart to us the maniacal passion to an order. And at it it turns out. Bruno does not get up from the chair, he relaxed, and the person at it well rested, full. At least this evening it as though, is not going to moralize to us with Karina and to reproach for perfect nonsenses. Usually he is also engaged in it. Bad marks at school, small pranks, any offense of Bruno convicts. We are afraid of it because it does not differ in related condescension. Christmas guarantees a respite therefore in Christmas Eve of any reproaches.grew dim with
of the Window, legs of candlesticks reddened from wax of candles. Colors of Christmas spheres on a fir-tree as though became brighter. There came the moment of cakes. Mother brings a salad bowl with the magic mountain of chocolate stars. It got the recipe from mother. The traditional Christmas recipe which crossed border. Mother the German, but here, in Mozel, is not present the real line of demarcation. French often mix up with Germans. In this corner of France there are a lot of mixed marriages in all generations.
of Patricia Kaas with two brothers and the sister, a photo source: Republicain - lorrain. fr
my parents got acquainted during the holiday. I represent the elegant father who invites mother to a waltz, and he already knows that this dance should not never end. And then kiss. But here it is difficult for me to present it. Parents never kiss at me, never speak each other about love. I do not know how it. But Germany absolutely close, and I know what it. I live in the border city of Stiring - Vendele, and it is enough to listen to my mother, to slightly extend a neck, and I already in Germany. According to the card we are divided by fifty meters. In life we are inseparable.
Already late. I am eight years old, and my eyelids hard fall. The garland on a fir-tree winks at me, hypnotizing. I comfortably settled on a canape in heat of Christmas Eve. I fight against a dream not to pass its last moments when my brothers put on a coat in a hall and will leave. Mother will carry away the last glasses in kitchen. For now the father and brothers sip aperitifs. Having nestled on mother who talks to Bruno, lulled by the voices sounding around me, I fall asleep.it is not necessary to
in school Tomorrow, and it is good news. Usually I go there without pleasure, and when in the mornings it is very cold, this duty turns almost into punishment. Temperature often falls below zero, and the nose at me freezes to an exit to the street. When snow covers a landscape, I can tell, at least, myself that I go to school to play snowballs or to build a snowman. The hostile and cold gray facade of the school similar to the monastery becomes more cheerful against white snow. In the yard of the girl boys with another have to keep on the one hand. Rules them soften strict, our games.it is even better than
After school because I can drive on the sledge on which from - for my easiest weight it is very difficult for me to disperse. But I adore sliding on snow. To me it is not cold because mother warmed me newspapers in advance. It every time wraps me in several layers, from - for whom my jacket is a little inflated, but is not cold to me.
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Ya I sink into an innocent sleep of the childhood and I have dreams... I dream last evening, school, chocolate stars and Joe Dassin. He stands on a stage and addresses public: “I will sing to you the song “America“ together with the girl whom I would like to present you. Here it, her name is Patricia Kaas“.
From the book “Patricia Kaas. The life told by her“