Generally speaking, La Bourboule is a tough terrain for coin
collectors. The thrifty Auvernats keep
their loose change well guarded, and even if one does drop a coin there are any
number of infants who will spot and pocket them. This is one of the reasons why I like to come
in the off-peak season; there are fewer children around. I do so hate competition!
During a normal holiday in La Bourboule I find exactly one
coin. It is almost as though the divine
protector of coin collectors – if there is such a being – throws me one crumb
to ensure that I don’t lose hope completely.
Last year was an exception – I found quite a few coins, six in total I
seem to recall. But this year looks to
be the best ever, because I have uncovered a new, very fruitful, source of
lucky coins: the public fountain!
These days people don’t tend to throw coins into fountains,
at least I rarely see any. I don’t
recall having ever seen one in the La Bourboulian edifice, but a week ago I was
once again indulging in my after-lunch ritual of rescuing insects that had
fallen into the water and were trying to get out, when I spied a Euro
cent! Unfortunately it was a bit far
from the edge, but I managed to reach it by extending myself to my full length
and almost falling into the fountain.
Several days later I saw two more coins – five cents and ten
cents. The five cent piece was just
about retrievable, though I moistened the lower part of my right sleeve
somewhat, but the ten cent piece was way out of reach. What was a coin collector to do? I furtively looked around. It was lunch time, and everyone had their
face buried in some local specialty, so the coast was clear. I took off my shoes, rolled up my trouser
legs up to my knees, and waded towards the coin. Unfortunately one of my trouser legs came
down half way into the fountain, so I looked a little wet when I emerged.
Izabelle at the hotel reception looked somewhat alarmed when
she saw me, and asked whether I had fallen into the river? I explained about the coin, and she looked
incredulous. She understands about coin
collecting, and indeed finds a few herself, but clearly thought diving into a
fountain for them was a little odd. So I
explained the rules of coin collecting to her, and told her about the Collector’s
Honour, which requires that one retrieves a lucky coin no matter at what
personal cost. Coin collecting has
rules, like every other sport!
Apparently she had not realised that coin collecting was a sport rather
than a hobby.
I also told her about the need for coin collectors to ‘lose’
a few coins themselves, so that other collectors got the chance to experience
some success – I had thrown three coins into the fountain myself that very day. ‘But isn’t that cheating,’ she asked. ‘First you throw the coins in, and then you
retrieve them the next day?’ I explained that I carefully remembered which
coins I threw and where, so I would not find my own coins. ‘It all sounds terribly complicated,’ she
said. Well, it is! People think coin collecting just means you
pick up a coin when you happen to see it, but there is so much more to it, as
readers of my occasional musings on this topic know.
Today the weather was still rainy and foggy. Nevertheless I checked the fountain, and
Glory Be!!! discovered a one cent piece
about three feet from the edge. Since it
was a cold and clammy day, I really didn’t fancy another dive – also there were
two bikers nearby watching my antics out of the corner of their eyes. What’s a coin collector to do? Ignore one whole cent just like that? I looked around for tools, and found a long
thin branch which had been blown off its tree during last night’s storm. It was just long enough to reach the cent,
which I managed to slowly pull towards me and the edge of the fountain. Once it was within reach, I closed my
umbrella and put it onto the fountain’s edge and took off my jacket. The bikers were by now staring in open
amazement. Then I rolled up my right
sleeve, sat on the edge, leaned over, plunged my arm deep into the water, and
Voila! had retrieved the cent. Then I
dried my arm with a handkerchief, rolled down my sleeve, put on my jacket,
opened my umbrella, and nonchalantly walked away, thoroughly pleased with
myself. If I knew how to whistle I would
have done so!
