They are the living testimony of our city’s past. Almost centenarians, they share their memories with us every Sunday and recount the event in Annecy that has marked them the most over the last century. Meeting with Georgette Chevallier, 96 years old.
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Today at 06:04 | updated today at 10:41
Time is like suspended. In the large apartment located in the old town of Annecy, the wooden bookcases weathered by age are full of books worn to the horn, by dint of having been consulted. Among the parchment books, the golden edge of a copy of the Pléiade imposes its majestic presence. This is not Plato’s cave, but a den of literature. The floor in the corridor creaks under the sole, breaking the silence that buzzes with the noises of passers-by, and the readings that were once done there.
In her dark room, Georgette Chevallier is resting. His 96 winters have dug furrows of wrinkles around his eyes. Her silver hair licks her shoulders and a big smile lights up her face when she talks about her arrival in Haute-Savoie. Born in 1926 in Lille, Georgette settled in Annecy in the 1950s to be a high school supervisor, before becoming a Latin and French teacher at the Gabriel-Fauré high school.
Barkers and broken dishes
At the time, the Saint-André fair marked Georgette in particular. “It was not done at all in Lille, where I came from! It was the big date… When the new school year arrived, we immediately looked at the calendar to see if we were free that day. The Saint-André of yesteryear then took on a completely different look than that of today. Stalls selling food, clothes, and sheets abound in the street, and between the stalls, criers howl to attract shoppers. Others, barkers, don’t hesitate to smash dishes on the floor to bring customers. “And there were animals everywhere! From Avenue de Chambéry to Le Pâquier! »
The celebrations of the ascents and returns from the mountain pastures were also great moments. “When the herds were coming down and I was teaching, there was always a student to shout “The cows! The cows !”. It was the only time I allowed them to get up and go to the window. To see the herds going up and down was the great joy. It announced either summer or winter. »
“Annecy was a charming little provincial town”
Maybe that was it, Annecy? A city far from urban frenzies, with a life punctuated by the seasons and the festivals that celebrated its passage. “Annecy today plays the big city it is not. It was a charming little provincial town, where we were quiet,” remembers Georgette in her strong, deep voice. And where craftsmen are legion. “My husband had his suits made, there were butchers and fishmongers… Today, where can you buy fish in town? »
On the walls, paintings of landscapes in primary colors give the atmosphere a feeling of sweet nostalgia. A large crucifix hangs over Georgette’s bed. In one corner, a cupboard is overflowing with trophies. “These are all my poetry prizes,” she smiles. Hanging on the wall, a poem written by her husband calls for the union of two loving hearts. The poem is strangely reminiscent of Verlaine’s verses. ” Yes, it’s true ! “Acknowledges Georgette, when it is pointed out to her. Before leaving, we recite together one of his most famous sonnets, “My familiar dream”: “I often have this strange and penetrating dream / Of an unknown woman, and whom I love, and who loves me / And who is, each time, neither completely the same/Nor completely different, and loves me and understands me. »
A big smile then illuminates the wrinkled face of the old lady.
