We left the woods to find bread and cheese. Jacinto carried the basket. All of us were hungry, including Fermín, who had already had breakfast twice. He said that hardly counted now. It had been forty minutes.
Fermín knew a promising kitchen in Paris. “Grab a few leftovers and head straight back,” he said. If a Magikito tells you he'll be back in a minute, put the kettle on. Then grow the tea.
We hadn't expected to end up behind a flowerpot, ringing friends around the world on a mushroom phone while arguing about whether half a baguette counted as hand luggage. Jacinto thought it did. The baguette had other ideas.
A cheese worth bringing home
We slipped through a kitchen window while the woman who lived there was watering her balcony plants. Half a baguette and a wedge of brie sat on a board. A human might have called that a snack. We saw dinner, breakfast and several extremely promising sandwiches.
Fermín leaned towards the cheese. We had to grab his waistcoat.
“Checking it's all right.”
“With your teeth?”
“Very reliable method.”
We made him wrap it in a handkerchief before the inspection swallowed our dinner. Then we tied some string around the bread. Three Brownies barely taller than a mug, hauling something longer than our sitting room. Excellent planning all round.
The woman came back. We crouched behind the sugar bowl. She looked at the board, looked at the cat and said, “You again.” The cat watched us escape and slowly closed his eyes. We'd owe him for that. After our night out with the cats, we can tell a sleepy look from an invoice.
We picked quite a day for it
Around the corner, we walked into a wall of noise. People were marching, watching and trying to get home. Further down the street, a shop window was broken and a rubbish bin was burning. A bicycle lay on its side by the kerb. Our enthusiasm for sightseeing disappeared.
Jacinto looked at the smoke, then at our cheese.
“Other way.”
For once, we all agreed immediately. We made a mental note to tell everyone back home. An occasion like that deserved a mention.
We ducked into an open doorway. Fermín got through. Jacinto got through. The baguette wedged itself between the door and a flowerpot. We pulled. We pushed. Our lunch had become a geometry problem.
“Lift your end!”
“It is up!”
“Then the other bloody end! We're carrying bread, not moving a wardrobe!”
We turned it, freed it and settled behind the pot. Fermín suggested shortening it with his teeth. We declined. Every solution he'd offered that afternoon involved eating the evidence.
Someone answer the mushroom phone
Out came the mushroom phone. Wonderful invention. Works beautifully unless it's raining, sunny or sitting next to Jacinto's hazelnuts. A nut was stuck under the call button. We had to settle an argument with our trail mix before contacting anyone.
Our friends in Milan picked up on the third try.
“Quiet where you are?”
“Depends which street. We've turned back. Quite a commotion in places.”
“Got the parmesan?”
“Safe with us.”
Good. Brownies always check on their friends first. Carry a cheese in your arms for long enough and it qualifies.
Turin joined the call. Then Bologna. Everyone had something to report, and the rest of us kept offering useless directions from another city. Within five minutes, our phone was louder than the doorway.
A friend in Washington rang in with music and voices behind him. He'd come across a rally too, though people near him were dancing. Had he found food? He held up half a pretzel. The picture froze just as he took a bite. Cruel timing.
“The whole world's out in the streets,” Jacinto said.
“My brother-in-law's asleep,” came a voice from the woods.
Thank goodness. At least one of our great institutions was still standing. Well, lying down.
Fermín shouted that we should take turns speaking. We all shouted back that he should keep his voice down. International cooperation was going splendidly.
Why did we head back to the woods?
We wanted to get home together, stop taking detours and sit down to dinner in peace. The woods were home. We could hear one another there without a siren cutting across the conversation, then decide what to do next after a rest.
Besides, we'd been hugging the same cheese for an hour. When you know every hole in a handkerchief by heart, it's time to go home.
Then we heard one person
A young woman sat down on the other side of our flowerpot and called someone. Her rent took most of her wages, she said. She was tired of working and still running short. Then she went quiet to listen.
So did we.
We could barely see more than her trainers. One sole was coming loose. Until then we'd heard a crowd. Now we were listening to a person.
We had a home among the roots to go back to. Some people get home and find their worries waiting in the letterbox.
Fermín said things ought to be shared more fairly. We nodded. Then we noticed the crumb on his lip.
“Been testing the cheese again?”
“Only a bit.”
“Start by leaving some for us, then. You're doing brilliantly with the theory.”
He wiped his mouth. We're fond of a good philosophy. We'd also like some of it to reach our plates.
Getting the baguette out of town
We waited until the way was clear and took the quieter streets. A man was sweeping broken glass outside his shop. He worked slowly, gathering what he could. Jacinto took off his hat as we passed. None of us had a joke for that.
Later, we reached a choice of routes. One was shorter. The other led away from the noise. Fermín asked how much longer it would take.
“Long enough for you to get hungry again.”
“Better ration the food, then.”
We took the cheese off him.
Past the last houses, our arms ached. We took turns carrying the bread. Whoever rested carried the basket. Whoever held the cheese walked in front, where we could see him. Trust is lovely. Keeping an eye on Fermín is useful too.
We decided to spend a while in our woods. Mend the leak, gather chestnuts, visit the friends we'd kept promising to see. We'd said “soon” so often that we'd nearly forgotten how good it felt to arrive.
Leaves crunched under our boots. We stopped. There was a bird calling. Jacinto's stomach joined in with a lengthy solo.
We laughed. The sort of laugh that comes when your shoulders finally drop.
Can sharing dinner fix the world?
A dinner won't pay the rent or put an injustice right. It gave us time to listen and make sure everyone ate. That much was within our reach. After an afternoon of feeling very small, being able to look after someone felt good.
Our friends had set the table beneath the chestnut tree. Someone took our basket. Someone asked if we were all right. Nobody wanted a formal report on Paris. They made room and let us tell the story in our own time.
Lovely, being expected. You can turn up exhausted, with a crooked hat and a terrible opinion of flowerpots, and someone is simply pleased to see you.
That's what we mean by looking after your friends. Fetching another plate. Listening when a story gains a chase scene that definitely didn't happen. Saying, “Yes, Fermín, very brave,” and passing him the water.
Peace lasted until we cut the cheese
We put the mushroom phone face down. Everyone was home. The bread crackled as we broke it. The cheese had suffered a few losses, mostly on one suspiciously well-nibbled side.
Fermín offered to divide it. One enormous portion, two reasonable ones and several slices thin enough to read through.
“Who's that big one for?” Jacinto asked.
“The one who carried it.”
Four voices rose at once. A chair scraped. Someone demanded a recount. We looked at each other and burst out laughing before the argument really got going.
Fermín had been taking the piss. He put the knife down and chose the smallest slice. He looked so mournful that we slid him some extra bread.
We'd brought a baguette, half a cheese and a firm intention to live peacefully back from Paris. All three needed sharing.
“Tomorrow, we go out for butter,” someone said.
“Tomorrow, you can spread patience on your toast.”
The news on our mushroom phone
The adventure takes place in October 2026. Reuters reported unrest in France on 17 and 18 October. Euronews covered clashes in Milan, Turin and Bologna. Reuters also documented a march with music into Washington. The gatherings had different contexts, and violent incidents don't represent everyone who demonstrated.
