I had passed Montmartre cemetery last year and because of the over official gate I had decided not to visit it. That had been a strange day as I had heard warnings regarding the area and mounted the steps up to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur to see a number of gypsies looking like they had been caught or were up to no good and some police interviewing some of them and some tourists that I presume had got caught out in some way, after making my way through the tourist touts in the square with a few swear words aimed at me in the process because I was not going along with their scams, I visited the Dali museum which is only a small building but I did enjoy it, but then I am a great fan of his work and it was interesting to see some aspects I had not previousy seen. On exiting I did not hang around the area because of the stench of sewage which I presume must have leaked or was leaking from somewhere, another reason why I probably skipped the cemetery.
This year I had a reason as a few weeks previously I had come across a grave in Almorah cemetery in Jersey here were buried the families of Allain, Wimbée, and Garnier, the information on the grave gave me some new information that I followed up with research in the Jersey Archive and I cam across one of the burials and it mentioned that after three days the body had been removed from Almorah to Montmarte, it appears I did not note this done and my trip to Paris was not entirely planned so I wrote down the details of what I thought might be the lady in question and the time period I thought, I approached the desk at the cemetery and the staff who spoke no English endeavoured to find my Jersey connection, as it must have been a wealthy family (The Allain’s had made a fortune in the wine trade in Jersey), I had thought it was Simone de la Poix De Freminville who had married William Wimbée Garnier, then re-married a Comte De Bousignac, for some reason I had the 1920’s as date of death when actually she died in 1956, a thorough search by the lady of the 1920’s period did not turn anything up, I had said that I would send the correct details when I was back in Jersey, but I can not find a note as I think I may have thought this is going to be easy to find, and retracing my previous searches has been fruitless in finding the original record which must have been from one of the funeral company ledgers. I just thought it bizarre that someone should be buried then removed to Paris. I can send what details I have to Montmartre but I would have liked to get the original details first as I now have doubts on who it exactly is, even though searching the individuals records has not shown anything other than one I can not find mention of!
So I ventured along the grey and drab routes through the cemetery in the vain hope I may find the person or family concerned, but needles in haystacks would be easier to find. My first encounter with a familiar surname was by the entrance and picture no. 6 of the grave of Jean Herve Ozouf buried in 1836. The cemetery did have a sombre beauty, but I much prefer Mont Parnasse. Perhpas it has something to do with the site Montmatre is rather odd that it has different levels and slopes and the main entrance is a level below a road on one side and one enters from the depths of the underworld. With coming across an excavation and bones of a resident pictured above also added to the feeling. I left the cemetery in search of a chemist for some pills for a headache, which I did find at a cost of 7 euro, this was my own fault for not having a supply with me. I walked around Place de Clichy which was busy thoroughfare for cars so not the best place in my condition, there were several seafood stalls and restaurants which had some very samll Canadian lobsters (American) on sale instead of our European lobsters, which was disappointing to see in a Country that one thinks prides itself of the provenance of what ends up on the plate. The prices were certainly very high although the moules looked reasonably priced enough, but I am not sure if I would risk eating shellfish in Paris unless I was entirely sure of its freshness.
Nicolas Jouault 