Chloé has been a celebrity here for so long http://dollforum.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=143&t=42865 and is delighted to be able to say that she's alive and well and rather enjoying life down south, where her special sun tan . . . just looks so natural.
It was her second day down south when she joined me for breakfast.
The day started with not too promising weather and Chloé sent me shopping for food - which she inspected closely on my return
Evian water gained approval as well as
Chateau Prévost wine for the evening meal. But she told me she'd really like to go somewhere else for dinner . . .
She contemplated breakfast
and whilst I went to put the kettle on, I returned to find her doing something with the bread under the table
She explained that Marie Antoinette didn't know about bread, nor about all the women in France, going on to say that cake simply wasn't good enough.
Luckily she was desperate for coffee and seemed accustomed to the art of a cafetiere
The sun came out as she said it would - she'd often heard the weather forecasts in her days up north, envying the life and weather down here.
and she relished breakfast outside on the terrace
The croissant was next
and she insisted on chocolate spread
Apparently the French dip croissant into their coffee but she thought I'd get in a mess so didn't tell me about it till afterwards
Breakfast had met with approval and she suggested I have the apple
which she kindly offered to me
She seemed entranced
and the sun went in. Next she seemed engrossed
and she explained that she likes learning about French history
and reads fast
interested in the Edict of Nantes of 1598
but the sun comes out
and it's too bright to read the white pages
So she goes inside for a rest
and that's where we'll have to leave her until eventually after her siesta she has the strength
to get up and tell the rest of her story.
She had an exhausting afternoon ahead . . .
Chloé's siesta lasted a long time. She had had a traumatic journey from up north, and the previous day had been exhausting.
During her sleep she dreamt of all that had been going on since her arrival the previous day . . . .
She had nightmares of her years up north
where she had been paraded as a porn star
and she'd got really tired of this and such men who deprived girls of clothes all the time. She'd got really cold and her nightmare gave her the shivers . . .
However, her sister Aira had taught her the art of making love potions
without needing to show any naughty bits at all, and which are quite warming by all accounts . . .
On arrival in her sleeping bag without clothes, she'd been given a bath and plenty of talc and enjoyed what she'd come down south for - a bit of sunbathing
It was the first time that she'd experienced a camera showing really how beautiful she was
and she dreamed of many more portrait sessions to come.
She thought that Riviera life would suit her well
and tried on her different available hair styles
and had been caught in enthusiasm for the weather off guard without any clothes on
(after all the French Riviera is well known for permitting topless bathing . . . )
and she was in bliss soaking up the warmth of the sun
but thought she really looked better in brown . . .
and her siesta reveries continued . . .
She had been so taken by trying on different wigs that she had asked for more portraits to be taken
but the worst nightmare of all had happened with all this putting on and taking off of hair -
and she really had lost her head.
She wanted a rest and her nightmare was anyone looking at her naked
so she had bid me to go away
I had heard strange noises through her subsequent rest and another nightmare was her embarrassment upon having been discovered doing her exercises
and she'd had to tell me to go away again . . .
And so her troubled siesta continued. . . .
Across the road someone playing the trumpet broke through in her dreams and images of her Frenchishness playing the Horn floated across her thoughts
and then the nightmares started again.
That thought of when the postman had arrived whilst I was out and she had had to go to collect whatever it was from the door
She shouldn't have opened it, but of course being a doll wanting to learn, curiosity got the better of her
Inside was . . . a load of funny rubber stuff
which she started to pull out . . . and . . . .
that face staring at her! It was a nightmare indeed!
The row that ensued erupted through her nightmare visions, and she really didn't believe me that this lady in a box was destined to go to someone else on the forum. . . .
And to prove it, she'd found a similar box kept behind the water tank in the bathroom cupboard
which she had opened . . . .
to her disgust pulling out all the contents . . . .
And upon opening the box
and pulling out the contents
the nightmare of the row that ensued, her thinking that a tart had been there before, but
discovering something rather interesting
with the pleasure of finding . . .
a head of hair which would make her feel particularly comfortable . . .
and with pleasure asking for her portrait to be taken and asking how she looked . . . (luckily being a doll, her mind being easily distracted . . . )
and in her dream patiently sitting there wondering about what was going to happen next
(this is, by the way, a http://www.domax.fr wig that they supply for their Poupée and one can buy extra wigs like this from them. They are rather good and tangle less easily than most - and untangling a wig is good practice for when one's wife asks one to do so - and then asks where one has acquired the skill . . . )
Well what happened next turned into another part of her nightmare - and mine for that matter too.
There she was, wondering what was going to happen next and asking if she could go out. So I phoned a friend to help me out.
I told him I had the perfect answer to the problem of protecting oneself against vulturous females and he invited us over to drinks.
He wasn't quite expecting Chloé she had to stand waiting on the doorstep
She had her first ride in a lift, which was quite exciting as walking up all those stairs was a bit much. When we got up there the view was rather good
so sitting out on the terrace was a heaven. . . .
His library was very good and
Chloé soon found that this was . . . style
My friend and I had a few glasses of wine and madaleines talking about physics and god and solar system mathematics encoded in linguistics . . . and afterwards we found Chloé having settled down with a book
Then the nightmare started - a real doll-head who's never been taught how to behave -
I thought I should check what she'd been reading. Max Beerbohm, she'd got off the shelf - "Seven Men and two others" . . ."Mon Cherie, this sea view is so much better than yours."
"Mon Cherie - this apartment's rather comfortable - you couldn't buy it for me could you please?"
"Mon Cherie - I rather fancy staying here you know, to look after your friend"
Well, I know I'm the second man she's had and at the rate of her ambitions she looks as though she's aiming to be First Lady of France before long. Seven more men to go?
I'd taken her home fast and she spent quite a time not being able to look at me.
And this was part of her nightmare.
I removed her blonde hair and put back the brown . . .
In her dream, she woke up and realised that although the view had been glamorous,
there she had been, waiting at the locked door to get in
having had to negotiate the electronic gates to stop James Bond's enemies getting to him . . . and instead had woken up to a view
less glamorous but where she had freedom, as she looked upon the man who might be persuaded to take her out and about rather more than any doll-else
and in her dream she blew him, and his wife, a kiss
and hoped he'd forgive her for her outrageous behaviour the night before.
With this she woke up and decided she had better read something to impress him when he came in
and so a new theory of the atom was in order . . .
and having refreshed her doll-head, it was the end of her siesta and she waited patiently for whatever might be next . . .