Imagine there’s no Heaven, and no Religion too, Imagine…..” John Lennon.

The doss-house doors opened at 5pm and closed at 530. No further option for stragglers. You still had to pay 60% on top of the next nights fee. In the Salle de Reception there were three queues, One for said stragglers, one for Newbies (also with a surcharge), one for the regulars. The rules forbade speaking except when answering questions at the locket… Name ? Any would do. Are you drunk ? No was never believed. Do you love God ? Anything other than yes resulted in a tirade of moral abuse. Where were you last night ? All responses brought contemptuous sneers from the inquisitors…. If one was lucky, one was thrown out for the night.

We stood in the hall until 630pm, when dinner was served, ever the same lump of stale baguette accompanied by a lonely strand or two of spaghetti, drifting in a bowl of almost tepid water. If one was lucky there was a flake of carrot or onion. Oh how we dreamed in silence of both. Supervision by cowled monks, “The Whisperer” - threats in one’s ear thumbdigs in the ribs, and by “The Sadist” who screeched his imagined superiority over the sheep. Mind you - It is always a joy to meet good folk who so thoroughly enjoy shepherding the afflicted.

7pm march in line to the dorms, 7.15 lights out, with one of our guardian angels hovering beyond the bolted oak waiting for any faint suggestion of sound. In spite of their scrutinies we did savour the odd event that appeased our lack of home comforts. Such as the time a swarthy stranger (of who we kept clear) a known local gangster accompanied by a pair of sallow youths; all wearing prison coiffure. At lights out two cots were gently lifted to adjoin, into which crept the thug and the girlfriend. Then came a loud clatter beneath them and into the sudden glare rushed “The Sadist” only to glare agape at the antique pistol on the floor. The gangster quite casually reached for the weapon, and as he stuffed it back under the blanket, thanked the monk for the light. Both monk and light went quietly quickly out, to our chuckles.

There would be no repercussions, for the monastery, just as the city itself is a refuge, a sanctuary for the flow of desperate men arriving to join the Les Legionaires…. In those days it was possible to enter any police station in France and request a free rail pass for Marseilles to enlist in the French Foreign Legion, no questions asked. The majority of these souls actually disemtrained at Lyon, just in case a recruiting officer lays in wait at the Marseille Terminus. There never was……

Curious, I went to the HQ one day for a nosey. Instead of meeting battle hardened killers all I found was posters of bespectacled little fat chaps sitting at (then modern) mainframe computor consoles, surrounded by missiles. I felt rather let down - the monastery dossers included much more interesting characters, bank robbers, yacht thieves, palace burglars, credit card abusers…. Yeah OK, not quite of the alcohol free smooth operator cadre…..

Anyway, back at Austerity Hotel, where Breakfast was dinner without old bread, served between 5am Wakey wakey ! and getting kicked out at 530. If one was lucky enough to be on the shower roster one could swap nutrition for an icy 20 second fire-hose blast, curtesy of that pillar of Care Service “The Sadist”. No privacy, no soap no towels., Never mind soon be Christmas ! Noel a bien tot !!

And what a surprise it was too….

We sat at the long bench tables actually being served by all the monks, even by our two Angels wearing paper hats and beatific smiles and the local Abbott in fine regalia blissfully handing out the most sumptuously bedecked platters imaginable- Honestly - honestly, think of the best Xmas nosh of your life…. and double it up, add a couple of mugs of hot mulled wine, crackers, bunting, and an hour extra in bed !! The first dish confused me…. the usual bowl of warm water but without the crust and spaghetti…. oops ! No you fool don’t drink it - Wash your fingers !! And gentle classic music wafting over hors d’ourves, Christmassy songs to the heartwarming soup, Jingle Bell ditties as the Abbott ushered in another splendidly clad fellow ! Non non, Santa Nick not but M’Sieu His Eminence, the Actual Head Jesuit Honcho of the Order - all the way from Brazil to shake all our hands, and would you like another helping …… All his eminating kindnesses carefully recorded by National T.V. camera crews - filming LIVE !!! Guaranteeing huge donations from the susceptible…..

The word Charade sprang to mind as I swiftly nabbed a few mince pies to sustain me for the next night out in the cold. I’d had enough of La Monastere. Imagine.

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NeXt on Maurice’s Substack, Wednesdays -

Random #2c, 18th Sept. “La Village Incomplet” Part two (of two).

and Fridays on https://thiscreativeadventue.com

TCA #2, 13th Sept. “Vision, Goals, Focus, Niche”.

TCA #3, 20th Sept. “The Numbers Game” + “Get it Write”.

TCA #4, 27th Sept. “Trike Trek News”.

Thankyou for being here ! See you on the Boulevard ? Imagine… Maurice.