The soup waved at me

 

I was in Paris, sitting at one of those open-air restaurants. You know the ones, tables on the side-walks or a pedestrianised area and everyone eating outdoors.

I was enjoying a French onions soup. It started to rain. It took me ages to finish my meal as it kept replenishing.

On another occasion I was enjoying a pea soup. Suddenly it waved at me. There on the green surface I could see someone waving. It was also shouting in a tiny voice, "Heeelp ... Heeelp ..."

I looked closer into the pea. It was a tiny fly drowning. I had to act quick. I had few options.

I could ignore it and carry on eating.

I could try to fish it out with my spoon; but then it would be drowning in the spoon instead of the plate.

Or I could throw in an umbrella in case it started to rain.

I decided to call the waiter. I pointed at the fly and said in my best French, "Le mouche!"

He looked own and corrected me, "Non Monsieur ... la Mouche"

"By Jove," I said, "you have marvellous eyesight to be able to tell what sex it is!"

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