The Curse of Son et Lumière

by Philippe Lesponse

Translated by Toni Small

See the French version.

When one places ones bags on board the Rose, you tell yourself once again, that you are about to witness a replica, one that you might prejudge, right or wrong, that the Americans are very proud of.

"Come visit the Rose, sail with sailors of the 18th century, you are sure to experience something like nothing else...." is the song you'll hear, the man announcing the catastrophe; an historical reconstruction of a 50 meter ship, the fastest way to put one in a disagreeable state of mind.

The crew could not possibly know what a miserable childhood I had. How many eveings spent in the gloomy courts of the chateaus of the Loire valley, sitting through the never-ending shows. What boredom, how desperate I wanted to sleep, what murderous thoughts I had for these figures, who no doubt would have also prefered to stay at home. My parents, the only happy ones in this story, imagining how they were enriching my life and providing thought for my future work. Innocents, as usual, they were unaware of the phobia they were steadily creating in their child, a phobia of Son et Lumières.

30 years later, having just come on board, imagine my suprise at discovering that there were people who had paid to come from afar to see this spectacle!

What!!!

Having become a respectable journalist, financially independent and able to spend my vacation with my children far from my kindergarten teacher, was the dreaded Son et Lumière syndrome going to get me once again?!!!

On the verge of nausea, I saw the coast of the Isle of Man grow distant, cursing the editor in chief who had the great idea to send me off on this trip, believing that he was giving me a something special. A week on board the biggest Son et Lumière of my life, I was waiting for the voices of my parents to come to me from the heavens to say....<Finally, Philippe, you are going to do good by us, a fine commentary to bring home...>

By chance, the spectacle never happened.

By chance, I was travelling on a boat of the 18th century, in the skin of a poorly washed sailor, climbing out on the yards, steering from time to time, and with pleasure firing canons on English villages.

Luckily at the time of my trip, the crew, tired of playing stole the scene and put the sails to their proper use!

The Rose delivered me from the curse of the Son et Lumière.