During an electrical workers strike, I had a party. Candles, baguette, cheese, cigarettes, cheap wine and a Philips record player that ran on batteries, plus as many friends the apartment could hold. We were really very quiet. No electricity meant, of course, no metro, no school, no anything that existed outside of a party. The next when the electrics were back on and guests departed, I discovered my land lady had died during her nap and was lying peacefully on her chaise longue. I hoped it was not our party that finished her off.

#1964-5-Pg15-2