We landed at Roissy on 2 July and headed straight to Kerbeleg loaded down with our luggage for the next five months. The land of buckwheat pancakes and salted butter caramels was ours.
The next day, as we were doing another tour of the site, a gentleman of respectable age appeared in front of the house, looking sheepish, sad and above all very embarrassed to turn up unannounced. Mr Ollagnier approached us and explained that his mother-in-law Odette Mahé (June) had just died and had expressed the wish that on her death a family visit to the farm where she had been born and raised should be organised, and if we didn’t mind them seeing the famous property. We confirmed that not only did we not mind, but that we were also very happy to see a pre-historic-Raveton link at Kerbeleg. A flock of children and grandchildren appeared and we showed them around the house. A good fifteen looks of amazement or indifference, but they are obviously very touched to be able to share a little of the décor of the youth of the grandmother or great-grandmother who had gone to see if the famous treasure of Kerbeleg was hidden in the memories of our mischievous ancestors.
Whether it was a sign or a coincidence, our first steps in the history of this old building took us back a century. We promise to visit them in Moëlan-sur-Mer, just a few beats away.
Sign. A meeting.
