The Mayor

Every little village in France has its elected mayor and ours is no exception.   When we were looking to buy our place it was Mr Mottais.  We discussed our ideas with him, he was favourable, and he helped us with the project as it continued over the two elapsed years (and 6 months of actual work) that it took. 

He got us the Certificat d'Urbanisme which is what you need if you want to develop a barn, and since Bâtiments de France were interested, he helped us liaise with them during the project.  And when the authorities refused to sign off the project when it was completed, he thumped some desks until they did.

It was clear that he was a respected and popular person in the village (with a few exceptions, as ever) and his kindness in choosing his words carefully so that we would understand, and inviting us to dinner, confirmed the initial impressions.

After the end of the project we would continue to take a coffee in some of the establishments around about, and he told me of his life and business carreer in Renault.   He was born in the village and knew its byways as a boy, and he showed me the garage where he was first employed as a mechanic those many years ago.  It was for all the world like the shed of a local house.  His career took him at first to Laval and he also spent some years in the Paris head office.  I believe he ended his employement running a dealership in Rennes.  On retirement he came back to his village.

He loved the village, taking an active part in its life, and doing what it took to secure its designation as a Petite cité de Caractère.   The festival that he organised for the 15 August was locally popular, with a steak barbecue dinner and the illumination of the village by little candles laid out along the lanes.  He got the village bistrot running again as a volunteer effort, and organised the annual oldies' lunch (not this year due to Covid).

Walking on the the byways that runs by our house, about a year ago, he felt a shortness of breath, and the triple bypass operation that he had as a result slowed him down, but he continued on, more slowly than before, until he died a couple of weeks ago.

The village put on a display of the little candles that he was so fond of, as a tribute, on the day of his restricted, private funeral.   We went to look.

As part of its programme of activities related to its status as Petite Cité de Caractère, the village has various pieces of artwork dotted around, including some silhouettes, life size, in sheet iron, of people in different places in the village.  One of them is our Mr Mottais in profile, standing beside the pedestrian bridge over the river.  Being later than usual, my afternoon walk extended into dusk one day recently, and I was crossing the bridge when I noticed someone putting a candle at the foot of our iron Mr Mottais.

Respect.