Fanny has just told me that her most cherished lover, Lucia, told her a cat drowned yesterday in the Canal Saint-Martin. Apparently, it had one ear smaller than the other. She would get more information; in the meanwhile I was to tell Eva that Fanny would be doing a raclette at her place tomorrow night. ‘Don’t say anything about the drowned cat,’ Fanny insisted. And because I am from Britain, Fanny explained that Raclette is a semi-hard Alpine cheese known for its ability to melt.