July 2, 2024

Feeling a little bereaved today.

I have a confession to make.

For just over a year now I’ve been spending my Tuesday evenings with another man.

Blonde, handsome in a big, rugged kind of way, not talkative, but with a wicked sense of humour and a profound compassion for his fellow humans. French to boot.

Every Tuesday evening I’d spend 2 hours in his company while he investigated crimes in his own peculiar way. A way that seems now, deeply unfashionable. No shouting, no bullying, no recklessness, no ‘maverick’ tropes. He would simply turn up, get to know all the people involved, talk to them, observe them, leave them to their own devices, until he worked out whatever was really going on. And then he was more interested in seeing justice done than in the strict application of’ ‘la loi’.

I am of course, talking about Bruno Cremer’s masterly rendition of Jules Maigret.

Over the past year, I’ve watched him grow old and ill in front of my eyes. 14 years, crammed into one. Until finally, last week, he lost his voice and I knew it was the end.

So today, I’m feeling a little bereaved. Even though I know I can watch it all again.

Because next time round I’ll know what happens to Monsieur Cremer.