1986: My Happy Life in Provence

Chapter 62 Voices from Paris

The farmers around looked like they were watching the fun, and most of them had the same mischievous grin on their faces as Pierre's.

The only one who was different from them was Henry, who was standing alone at the far end. This guy was wearing a yellowed "captain's hat", and you could barely make out that its base color was black and white.

During this month, people wearing captain's hats can be seen everywhere in the streets and alleys of Provence. This was a "popular item" of that era, but Henry's hat is obviously a bit old.

Henry kept making small movements and pacing anxiously.

If someone gave him a warning look, he would be quiet for a few seconds, but would soon pace back anxiously.

Mr. Ronan was fooled by these damn guys!

Seeing that Ronan didn't move, Pierre took the hollow steel pipe from Fabian and gestured to the air a few times:
“Will you use this thing?”

Ronan pushed the steel pipe away from Pierre's hand, glanced at him and said:

"A three-year-old can use it, so who can't stick it in the ground?"

He walked over to where the other tools were kept:

"The next step is to measure out the equally spaced branch points, not this thing."

Thank God, his knowledge of the system did not make him lose face in front of these Provencal farmers.

"That's right!" Henry shouted, finally daring to speak.

He looked around at the pranksters viciously.

The great Mr. Ronan has seen through your scam!
"Do you really understand?" The prank failed, but Pierre was not angry at all. On the contrary, he looked surprised.

He had always thought that Ronan was just a city guy who was good at driving a tractor, but he didn't expect that Ronan actually knew about farming!

"Agricultural programs in Paris offer so much knowledge?" Pierre asked Ronan, who was searching for measuring tools on the ground.

Ronan once said while drinking that all his agricultural knowledge came from TV.

Ronan said without even looking up:

“I’ve loved watching TV since I was a kid.”

"Paris is not without its merits--" said Pierre, stroking his thick beard.

The prank was just a sideshow.

Although Ronan subsequently demonstrated his measurement ability and was recognized and impressed by everyone again, the farmers had a standard collaborative process and the measurement work did not fall on Ronan's head. There were other more important tasks waiting for him.

Pierre continued his role as trailblazer, marking the land with surveying tools.

Ronan also understood why Pierre was the best farmer in Lourmarin village. This guy was very fast. It took two people holding hollow steel pipes to follow him and take turns drilling holes to barely keep up with him.

Behind the two men holding the steel pipes was a team of grafters led by Theo alone. He held a large bundle of grape branches and grafted one into each hole he made.

Not far behind him, Henry and another farmer were moving quickly in the fields. They were responsible for supplying vines to ensure that Theo always had grape branches.

At the back of everyone, Ronan and another young man were doing the filling work.

The previous steps can be done quickly, but this step needs to be slowed down. The grape branches are only as long as chopsticks, and the buds are smaller than a fingernail. Moving too quickly will hurt them.

"Don't be in a hurry, take your time." The man who was doing the same process as Ronan was called Cornell, a slightly plump young man with blue-green eyes.

He told Ronan that he was also teased by Pierre and his gang when he first planted grape branches.

Obviously, the two people are 'brothers in distress'.

"I can't go any faster even if I want to—" Ronan managed to free one hand to block the sun, "Damn it, I should wear some protective gear. Is it this hot in March?"

Cornell chuckled twice:
"This is Provence, with more than 300 days of sunshine a year, not Paris."

"That guy doesn't look Parisian." Fabian pointed in a direction with his chin.

Led by the experienced Pierre, the three people who were in charge of the installation and the plugging finished their work early and hid in the shade to smoke. "It's not like that. I've never seen such hardworking Parisians." Pierre said, holding a cigarette in his mouth.

All those who came to help took appropriate protective measures. Some wore sun-proof hats, some wore homemade smoke-proof masks, and Ronan brought a dog.

Looking at the whole day today, Ronan couldn't find any fault with anything except that he ate nearly two people's worth of bread and cheese at noon.

"More than just hard work." Fabian took a sip of iced beer. "Although I don't know other Parisians, I know that Parisians are not like this."

Ronan had only moved to Provence for more than two months, and the first few months were the slack season for farming. The farmers only knew that he loved drinking and was quite rich, and they did not know much about his character and how he behaved.

He could see that Ronan really liked crops and understood them, and that he wasn't just playing around with them.

"You don't know any Parisians, so how do you judge that Ronan doesn't look like a Parisian?" Pierre asked an extremely difficult question.

Fabian took a sip of beer, shrugged his shoulders, thrust his chin forward, and turned down the corners of his mouth:

“He’s not obnoxious at all and has a good sense of propriety.”

This is another way of saying shrug, which means the speaker is extremely disgusted with what he is talking about.

Pierre laughed twice and put out his cigarette:

"Let's go and save our Parisian friend. He's about to faint from the heat."

Fabian raised his hands and waved them quickly in the direction of Ronan and Cornell:
"We're here to help you—"

night.

Ronan didn't even have the energy to stay at Fabian's house for dinner and insisted on going home to rest.

Farm work is too physically demanding, even more tiring than a day spent digging for truffles in the forest.

And at that time there was no strong sun shining directly on his head and back.

I had just lay down for a while when the phone rang.

Ronan realized that this could not be a call from any of his friends in Provence; these people did not call anyone at the all-important dinner time, the most sacred moment of the day.

This was not a call from the parents. Ever since the market incident, Luo Tianhai had always been dissatisfied with Ronan, so Feng Zhen didn't dare to call Ronan on her own initiative.

Ronan sat up and looked at the ringing phone.

"Who could that be?"

"Hey, my friend, it's over 20 degrees where you are now, right?" There was a fluent Parisian accent on the other end of the phone.

Ronan felt very welcome to hear the familiar Parisian accent again after such a long absence. Even though he didn't know who the other person was, he politely answered "yes" before asking:

"Who are you?"

"Thor." The man on the other side responded enthusiastically.

Thor was Ronan's high school classmate, but they were not very familiar with each other. He only spoke to him on the phone once after he knew that Ronan was going to live in Provence.

Ronan had given his landline number in Provence to other high school friends he was close to, so it wasn't surprising that Thor had his new phone number.

"Hello Thor, what's the matter?" Ronan asked unexpectedly.

"Were you at home during Labor Day?" Thor asked in a very cheerful tone.

"Should be at home." Ronan had no plans to travel, as there were only beautiful scenery within a few hundred kilometers around him.

"Oh, that's great." Ronan heard Thor's excited clapping on the phone, "I'm thinking about going to Provence for Labor Day."

After a slight pause, Thor continued:
"Can I visit you?"

"Ah?" Ronan looked around in panic.

You mean to say that my house, which can be described as bare except for the kitchen and dining area, is going to have guests?
And just over a month later? ?
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(End of this chapter)