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White Tablecloths & Silver Buckets

A Maître d’Hôtel’s Notes on the Montmartre Cabaret

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Privacy Note — RGPD

What this site does with data, in plain words: almost nothing, and nothing at all that you would notice.

This is a personal memoir site, static pages only, maintained by one person in Paris. Under the General Data Protection Regulation — the RGPD, as we say at home — the honest summary is that there is almost nothing to regulate here, but since you took the trouble to look, here is the whole of it.

What this site does not do: there are no account systems, no forms, no comment fields, no newsletters, no analytics of any kind, no advertising, no trackers, no profiling and no third-party embeds. I could not follow you around the internet even if I wanted to, and I very much do not want to. There is no cookie banner because there is nothing to consent to.

What exists technically: like every website on earth, the server that hosts these pages keeps standard access logs — a record that a browser asked for a page, roughly when, and with what kind of software. These logs exist for technical housekeeping, are not sold or shared, and are not used to identify anyone. That is the complete extent of any processing.

Letters: if you write to me by post, the letter itself — your handwriting, your return address, your questions — is the only personal data I ever see, and I keep it in a box under my desk like a normal human being. Your address is used solely to write back. Nothing is digitised, filed to a database, or shared with a soul. If you would rather I did not keep the letter, say so and it goes in the fire once answered.

Your rights: under the RGPD you may ask what data I hold about you, have it corrected, or have it destroyed. For anything held on paper that means writing to me; for anything on the server there is effectively nothing to ask for. The address for all of this is the postal one on the contact page — Marcelle Renaud, 12 rue des Abbesses, 75018 Paris.

I wrote this note myself rather than copying a legal boilerplate, because a privacy page on a site this simple should itself be simple. If the law obliges me to say more, consider it said in spirit: your visit here is between you and the page, and that is how I intend to keep it.

Finally, for completeness — the housekeeping paragraph every site seems to need. The pages you are reading are served as plain documents; your browser may keep a copy in its cache as it does with everything you read, and it may remember that you have been here if you let it. That is your own software doing its own job on your own machine, which the regulation sensibly treats as your business, not mine. Fonts, styles and images are all served from this same site — nothing fetches anything from anywhere else while you read, so no third party learns of your visit from me. In an age when most pages want to know everything about everyone, I offer you this: a site that knows nothing about you at all, and is perfectly content that way.