[Sung, melodic vocals only] I'm training in an English martial art, very hard to master for a Frenchwoman… being polite: I'm sorry, sorry, sorry and sorry again. Not very common among frogs! Head under the guillotine, the Gaul never admits he's wrong. A mistake is a weakness. An apology, a surrender. Better to lie with arrogance than die of shame! A matter of honour! The Frog only negotiates from a position of strength and never apologises. Too risky for his ego. Me, on the other hand, I've never had a problem apologising. I learnt very early that to avoid bringing down the thunderbolts of those who give a dog a bad name and hang him, I had, at the very least, to apologise for things I wasn't responsible for, and incidentally for who I was, because apparently, being myself wouldn't suit everyone. Logical, everyone is unique, but some people seem unaware of it, so I've been practising for years the art of apologising: I apologise for being a victim of my fears, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this book. Because apparently, I'm one of the few interested in what hides in the unconscious. Doesn't pay enough, so they say. No point. I apologise for watching the hummingbirds from my hammock, while others are working, well, pretending to, and still nobody pays me for mine! I apologise for listening to children laughing at the seaside, instead of TeleKata twenty-four seven. Between smiling and sulking, I've made my choice! I apologise for writing numbers in figures, because it's easier to read in every language, a dyslexic's trick! I apologise for not having had children, because a scalpel fanatic took out my ovaries, without asking my opinion. The very same one who sleeps with a clear conscience, and couldn't care less about my premature ageing, and the hormonal chaos she set off. Yes, I admit it, I'm a tad miffed. The doctor sings, What have we got today? The nurse sings, Hysterectomy. The doctor sings, We open up, I'll take the ovaries out too, off we go! She won't notice anyway, she's asleep. Neither will the health insurance, that way I can bill double. The nurse sings, We need to write down a good reason for that, doctor. The doctor sings, Put "as a precaution", that always goes through, and it's not wrong, a precaution for my pension! I apologise for not being in a couple, because I took the time to write a book to get over the last one. I apologise for having voluptuous curves, very fashionable in the fifties. I apologise for being tall in the South, because the men only come up to my armpits. I apologise for being overqualified, because in France, I'm still asked to justify my skills without ever being paid for them, the cheek of it! And of course, I apologise for apologising for being so humble, it balances things out! But above all, more than anything, and most of all, I apologise for not being on time! Because there is great art in my lateness, without my working at it much.
