Our village lost a bit of its sparkle last week, as one of our great characters and a good friend left us. There is a gap in our lives, and I felt it appropriate to write about her today rather than any nonsense about vegetables and fruit.
Huguette Gallet was born in June 1938, and didn't have the easiest childhood. Both parents died while she was still very young and of course there was the War, the German Occupation and then the years of reconstruction. She was adopted by a local family and grew up in the area. She was by all accounts a bit of a handful, but also worked hard to earn some money from as early as she could.
She married twice. With her first husband, she had two children, a boy and a girl, and with her second husband, two more girls. She was widowed both times, but her second husband only died about 8 years ago. As well as four children, she had lots of grandchildren and a few great grandchildren too. Raising four children was hard and expensive and she worked and tended the kitchen garden and raised chickens and rabbits for eggs and for meat. She also worked as a dinner lady in the local school. She seemed to know everyone across all generations, not least due to the school canteen.
She was very fit, despite a couple of accidents over the years. Even before we met her, we heard stories of her being asked not to train next to the school children as she was beating them, and how she ran a goat into the ground (possibly both apocryphal). She led an informal walking group on a Sunday morning, and that is how we met her, and through her, an awful lot of other people too. She was our "open sesame" to French society. From 2007 we walked between 5 and 12 kilometres with her every Sunday, and through her, got to know all the highways and byways around our village.
She was also an intrinsic part of Friday night Beer O'Clock, as she would potter along most weeks. If we were with other British people, she would sit and nod along to the conversation, enjoying the company if not always what was said. If we were alone, we would chatter and she would kindly and tactfully correct our French and share her knowledge. If she was there with family, we were included in the company and conversation.
She was inclusive. She was kind. She loved animals. She picked up waifs and strays, both animal and human, and tried to help them where she could. She was musical. She was energetic. She was a member of the Comité des Fêtes with us, she was also a member of the local Heritage group. She was mischievous and cheeky. She was a ray of sunshine. I will miss her.
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