Guess what? Weather cold and very wet. I find myself talking to the birds. I've decided this can't go on. I need to do something energetic so I launch myself into spring cleaning, then had a brainwave. I wait til the rain eases off a bit then clean the windows and caravan outside. All covered in mould - hardly surprising. I only wash and don't rinse and I will let the rain rinse everything off. I KNOW that there will be no more rain!! Ha! Fooled you, weather Gods. Bastard weather Gods get their own back by recommencing the relentless downpour. Still, at least the windows are clean. I then clean all the venetian blinds, each little slat at a time. Then clean anything else that doesn't move.
The fridge appears to be on the blink. Or perhaps it just thinks it's so cold that it doesn't need to bother. Not sure. I brave the rain to go to the shops for cleaning stuff [twice as I forgot to get teatowels the first time and ours are all manky as hell!!]. I seem to drive sideways out of the garden but at least we get out both times. I promise the car I will give it a much needed clean if it doesn't rain tomorrow. I snort in derision at the thought of a sunny day and I imagine the car does too. See, I'm even talking to the car now.
Tomorrow is a public holiday so the shop was heaving but I got to have a bit of human contact with a man who wanted me to give blood and then turned me down flat once I told him I'd had malaria in the past. But I did get a result, mini doughnuts pack of 8 with 50% extra free. Twelve doughnuts to nibble while I sit in the caravan this evening. Unfortunately they are filled with some sort of artificial gel which manages to curl my toes before it's even got to my oesophegus, so I'll have to cut that out before I eat them.
After 5 [doughnuts, that is, not the time of day] I gave up and decided to go for empty calories in the form of alcohol. There was an hour when the rain stopped in the evening. I cleaned the car windows because I'd sort of promised and because I can hardly seen through them. God, these caravan windows are clean!
By 10pm it hasn't rained for four hours, the silence in the caravan is eerie. I've lost all sense of perspective of a world that isn't semi-submerged. I am very happy that Kate spent the weekend in 30C in Cannes, but I wish she hadn't told me!
If it's raining tomorrow, I don't think I'll be able to stand it.
ps Darren still hasn't built an Ark. Very remiss of him, he could have made a lot of money this week.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
More of the same but worse
Thursday, Friday, Saturday, the days all merged into one long unpleasant memory. The caravan's a greenhouse, the car struggles to to get out of the quagmire which used to be our garden. The flower beds are unworkable and it's even difficult to have a bonfire, but I keep trying. Clothes are caked in wet mud which eventually turns to dry mud. It's still raining. No work being done in house or garden. Trying to plan the garden but have to do it from photos as it is too wet and misty to go out there and pace it out. Lots of early evening glasses of wine. The forecast is for heavy rain, punctuated by light showers. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get through this. Sometimes I feel like I'm in solitary confinement. Now I've started talking to myself to help me through the days, as often the rain is too heavy to be able to hear music or the radio. No electricity in the bedroom, so cold at night. A bit of an ant fest in the kitchen and lounge. This really has been a very difficult time - but little did I know that it was going to get worse.
By Saturday evening the continual heavy downpours had formed a hole in the roof of the house over what was, at some point in its history, the kitchen. The water spread through the house and eventually the electric wires on the floor gave up and the whole system died. It was around 9.30 pm, and very dark.
The garden was churned up by the machinery and, in parts, 20 cm deep in water, the house was taking in water at a rate similar to the Titanic. I lifted the electric cables out of the water, [NB I have since been told that that was a very stupid thing to do as I lifted them by hand and I was standing in a couple of inches of water] checked that they were unlikely to get any wetter, locked the house - God knows why I bothered - grabbed some clean undies, a toothbrush and my laptop and handbag and got in the car, praying that I would be able to get it out of the boggy mess that used to be the garden. With luck and a prayer I got out. I had been faced with a choice, a night in the caravan with no heating, lighting, phone or a night in a chambre d'hote. My first port of call was Judith and Kevin, who offered me a bed for the night and the offer was far too good to turn down. They're not without their own water-related problems. The water table is so high that their gite has water coming through the floor and their ceiling is leaking. A restless night, and not a happy one, but at least I had company and warmth.
Sunday started with the sun shining through the rain, for a while at least. I got up and went straightaway to the house, where things were looking [a little] better. I checked the fuse box but couldn't see anything that might help. After discussion with Judith and Kevin, and a look at their fuse box, I went back and had another try and voila, I managed to get everything working.
By Saturday evening the continual heavy downpours had formed a hole in the roof of the house over what was, at some point in its history, the kitchen. The water spread through the house and eventually the electric wires on the floor gave up and the whole system died. It was around 9.30 pm, and very dark.
The garden was churned up by the machinery and, in parts, 20 cm deep in water, the house was taking in water at a rate similar to the Titanic. I lifted the electric cables out of the water, [NB I have since been told that that was a very stupid thing to do as I lifted them by hand and I was standing in a couple of inches of water] checked that they were unlikely to get any wetter, locked the house - God knows why I bothered - grabbed some clean undies, a toothbrush and my laptop and handbag and got in the car, praying that I would be able to get it out of the boggy mess that used to be the garden. With luck and a prayer I got out. I had been faced with a choice, a night in the caravan with no heating, lighting, phone or a night in a chambre d'hote. My first port of call was Judith and Kevin, who offered me a bed for the night and the offer was far too good to turn down. They're not without their own water-related problems. The water table is so high that their gite has water coming through the floor and their ceiling is leaking. A restless night, and not a happy one, but at least I had company and warmth.
Sunday started with the sun shining through the rain, for a while at least. I got up and went straightaway to the house, where things were looking [a little] better. I checked the fuse box but couldn't see anything that might help. After discussion with Judith and Kevin, and a look at their fuse box, I went back and had another try and voila, I managed to get everything working.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
More mud and rain
Darren came around this morning to tidy up and tell me that he's not really able to do anything else until the man turns up with the big digger. I knew it was going to happen but I felt really low. So I took myself off to see a man about a second hand above-ground pool. Complete with all accessories, filter and chemicals for 50 euro. Bought it! Chris can put it all together when he comes in May. God bless the internet!
I then went to see someone who had given me a load of cardboard last week but she was out and by then I was cold, windswept and grumpy so I thought I had better eat. I went to a little restaurant that Chris and I sometimes use but the food was just OK and the service was the same, don't think I'll go there again. I had intended to go to the Laundrette again as I seem to have anther bag of smelly, muddy clothes but I couldn't face it so I went home, unloaded all the pool stuff and decided to have a cuppa and a sleep to make up for all the hours I've missed in the past couple of nights. I was just settling down when a chap arrives chez moi with a box. It's the plants I've ordered, which got here in double-quick time precipitating a crisis as they are rootballs and not in pots and the beds aren't ready and the soil is to heavy for me to lift. I dragged myself to 3 shops to try and buy small plant pots, just plastic or degradable ones and eventually found some in the fourth shop. So when I got home I opened up the house and got a bag of compost. I had intended to pot them in the house but it was freezing so I decided to do it in the caravan, white carpet or no white carpet. [Don't worry, Chris, the carpet hasn't actually been white for over 2 weeks]. I was just getting dragging a bag of compost from the house to the caravan when the phone rang and it was Jeremy who is the man with the big digger[!] who wanted to come and look at the job. I managed to get hold of Darren and let him know so he raced back from wherever while I kept Jeremy entertained in the meantime with fascinating stories of how I managed to find myself living in a freezing cold caravan etc etc.
Upshot is that Jeremy thinks he can do it at the beginning of next week so that means there won't be too much of a delay. Now all we've got to do is find out how much it's going to cost.
Returning to the plants, I realised that the pots I'd bought were too small so I hared off to the shop again, got there just before it closed to find that they don't have any bigger ones AT ALL. So I swallowed my resentment at living in this backwater and drove 25 kilometres to a garden centre where eventually I found some plastic plant pots. Yay! Drove 25 km back, made a jacket potato and sat looking at 22 very sad looking plants and a giant bag of compost which were together taking up almost the entire kitchen floor. Had a hissy fit and threw the bag of compost outside.
I looked at the long-term weather forecast. Apparently the sun is due to shine a week next Sunday. Honest! I think I'm going to go to bed. It's all getting too much for me.
Tomorrow's a new day and I need to sleep.
I then went to see someone who had given me a load of cardboard last week but she was out and by then I was cold, windswept and grumpy so I thought I had better eat. I went to a little restaurant that Chris and I sometimes use but the food was just OK and the service was the same, don't think I'll go there again. I had intended to go to the Laundrette again as I seem to have anther bag of smelly, muddy clothes but I couldn't face it so I went home, unloaded all the pool stuff and decided to have a cuppa and a sleep to make up for all the hours I've missed in the past couple of nights. I was just settling down when a chap arrives chez moi with a box. It's the plants I've ordered, which got here in double-quick time precipitating a crisis as they are rootballs and not in pots and the beds aren't ready and the soil is to heavy for me to lift. I dragged myself to 3 shops to try and buy small plant pots, just plastic or degradable ones and eventually found some in the fourth shop. So when I got home I opened up the house and got a bag of compost. I had intended to pot them in the house but it was freezing so I decided to do it in the caravan, white carpet or no white carpet. [Don't worry, Chris, the carpet hasn't actually been white for over 2 weeks]. I was just getting dragging a bag of compost from the house to the caravan when the phone rang and it was Jeremy who is the man with the big digger[!] who wanted to come and look at the job. I managed to get hold of Darren and let him know so he raced back from wherever while I kept Jeremy entertained in the meantime with fascinating stories of how I managed to find myself living in a freezing cold caravan etc etc.
Upshot is that Jeremy thinks he can do it at the beginning of next week so that means there won't be too much of a delay. Now all we've got to do is find out how much it's going to cost.
Returning to the plants, I realised that the pots I'd bought were too small so I hared off to the shop again, got there just before it closed to find that they don't have any bigger ones AT ALL. So I swallowed my resentment at living in this backwater and drove 25 kilometres to a garden centre where eventually I found some plastic plant pots. Yay! Drove 25 km back, made a jacket potato and sat looking at 22 very sad looking plants and a giant bag of compost which were together taking up almost the entire kitchen floor. Had a hissy fit and threw the bag of compost outside.
I looked at the long-term weather forecast. Apparently the sun is due to shine a week next Sunday. Honest! I think I'm going to go to bed. It's all getting too much for me.
Tomorrow's a new day and I need to sleep.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The worst day so far.
It got off to a bad start as several very heavy showers during the night prevented me getting a decent night's sleep. I was fed up as I waited for the dumper driver [due 8.30, arrived 7.20 and didn't come to get his money]. I tried preparing the 40 metre bed but the ground is so wet it's like clay. I had to give up as my boots were too heavy to walk in. So I glooped and sloshed my way back to the caravan, very despondent.
The dumper driver brought another skip, which we hadn't asked for and I washed my wellies and got water in them.
By 9am I was ready to crawl back into bed. Thought I'd try looking on the bright side.
The good things in my life:
1. the caravan is waterproof and windproof.
2. this can't go on forever.
3. Beth's doing well
Oh well, that didn't take long.
When Darren and Stuart turned up, the weather was diabolical again so they came in the caravan for a cuppa. Things are always better when there's someone to chat to. But unfortunately it looks like they're going to have to desert the job as the site is pretty much unworkable, particularly as Darren has to re-lay the cement terrace once the micro station is in place. The 15-day weather forecast is, basically, rain and more rain with some showers and a few storms.
I braved the temperamental shower and did feel a lot better after a good clean up. Headed out to the hypermarket to stock up and to the bank to stock up! At midday in Ste Foy la Grande it was 7degrees. That's not even a daytime temperature unless you're in an Arctic region. Maybe that's it. Perhaps I'm in the wrong country. I went for lunch at the usual restaurant, where I was greeted as an old friend and he enquired after Chris's whereabouts and wished me Bon Courage as I left.
But we did have half an hour's sunshine later when I ran out and took these photos of the terrace being dismantled.
It will eventually run the whole length of the front of the house, but only 1 metre wide.
The demolition is practically complete and tidied up, despite the appalling conditions. They have worked really hard and Darren has often worked late in the evening but the weather has made it really difficult for them.
A brief burst of sunlight in the early evening meant that I could go out and shovel organic manure into the raised beds, oh bliss... not!!
My hands are all blistered, my toenails are falling off, everything aches. I want to go home.
The dumper driver brought another skip, which we hadn't asked for and I washed my wellies and got water in them.
By 9am I was ready to crawl back into bed. Thought I'd try looking on the bright side.
The good things in my life:
1. the caravan is waterproof and windproof.
2. this can't go on forever.
3. Beth's doing well
Oh well, that didn't take long.
When Darren and Stuart turned up, the weather was diabolical again so they came in the caravan for a cuppa. Things are always better when there's someone to chat to. But unfortunately it looks like they're going to have to desert the job as the site is pretty much unworkable, particularly as Darren has to re-lay the cement terrace once the micro station is in place. The 15-day weather forecast is, basically, rain and more rain with some showers and a few storms.
I braved the temperamental shower and did feel a lot better after a good clean up. Headed out to the hypermarket to stock up and to the bank to stock up! At midday in Ste Foy la Grande it was 7degrees. That's not even a daytime temperature unless you're in an Arctic region. Maybe that's it. Perhaps I'm in the wrong country. I went for lunch at the usual restaurant, where I was greeted as an old friend and he enquired after Chris's whereabouts and wished me Bon Courage as I left.
But we did have half an hour's sunshine later when I ran out and took these photos of the terrace being dismantled.
It will eventually run the whole length of the front of the house, but only 1 metre wide.
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| One day, this will be half my kitchen |
A brief burst of sunlight in the early evening meant that I could go out and shovel organic manure into the raised beds, oh bliss... not!!
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| This one's for Chris showing the area where the pine, bramble and pyracantha [which he hated] have been removed |
My hands are all blistered, my toenails are falling off, everything aches. I want to go home.
Monday, April 23, 2012
My car's anniversary
Today's our anniversary, one whole month with my own little car. Yay!!
I was woken up by the bad tempered dumper driver. I knew that I knew him but couldn't remember who he was. After a couple of embarrassing minutes, he dropped the skip and left.
The plumber arrived, looked at the tap and left without a word but he was back within the hour to replace it. Manure arrived, man came to clean the old fosse so that Darren can decommision it [after the new one arrives....]. There was a drama with this as he said he couldn't possibly bring his lorry onto the garden as it is so full of shit that it is incredibly heavy and the ground is too soft. Eventually parked his lorry at the front and ran a pipe around to the fosse. We always knew he would but the shoulder shrugging and deep sighing are things that just have to be got through!
So far, not a bad day except the guy didn't turn up to give us a quote for the big digger and Mr bad tempered dumper driver didn't come back til late afternoon to take the full skip and he didn't leave us an empty one. He also made a drama out of the whole thing by saying that the skip was too full and therefore too heavy. Cue for more shoulder shrugging and sighing. He loaded it fine! Quelle surprise! He finally returned with an empty skip and said he would be back at 8.30am tomorrow to collect it. I think Darren and Stuart just wanted to get rid of everything so they agreed.
I was intending to prepare the 40 metre bed for the imminent arrival of the Lavateria plants but it was too damn wet and cold. I didn't achieve much at all apart from overcoming my conviction that fires will do something nasty the minute your back is turned, which meant that I could run a big fire in the house and a bonfire in the garden in the morning.
The sun finally came out for a little while in the early evening, just a few minutes to encourage us to think that maybe the weather was turning, but then the rain came back with a vengeance. It's really difficult to hear anything in a caravan during the driving rain so DVDs and podcasts were out of the question. I snuggled up with a book.
Darren was out there til after 7, getting all the rubble in the skip. I hope the weather's better tomorrow because I am going to have to work in the garden.
I was woken up by the bad tempered dumper driver. I knew that I knew him but couldn't remember who he was. After a couple of embarrassing minutes, he dropped the skip and left.
The plumber arrived, looked at the tap and left without a word but he was back within the hour to replace it. Manure arrived, man came to clean the old fosse so that Darren can decommision it [after the new one arrives....]. There was a drama with this as he said he couldn't possibly bring his lorry onto the garden as it is so full of shit that it is incredibly heavy and the ground is too soft. Eventually parked his lorry at the front and ran a pipe around to the fosse. We always knew he would but the shoulder shrugging and deep sighing are things that just have to be got through!
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| Bit of male bonding before the fosse is cleaned out |
So far, not a bad day except the guy didn't turn up to give us a quote for the big digger and Mr bad tempered dumper driver didn't come back til late afternoon to take the full skip and he didn't leave us an empty one. He also made a drama out of the whole thing by saying that the skip was too full and therefore too heavy. Cue for more shoulder shrugging and sighing. He loaded it fine! Quelle surprise! He finally returned with an empty skip and said he would be back at 8.30am tomorrow to collect it. I think Darren and Stuart just wanted to get rid of everything so they agreed.
I was intending to prepare the 40 metre bed for the imminent arrival of the Lavateria plants but it was too damn wet and cold. I didn't achieve much at all apart from overcoming my conviction that fires will do something nasty the minute your back is turned, which meant that I could run a big fire in the house and a bonfire in the garden in the morning.
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| The view from the caravan 2 weeks ago. |
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| More or less same view today |
The sun finally came out for a little while in the early evening, just a few minutes to encourage us to think that maybe the weather was turning, but then the rain came back with a vengeance. It's really difficult to hear anything in a caravan during the driving rain so DVDs and podcasts were out of the question. I snuggled up with a book.
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| So, more rubble to dispose of |
Sunday, April 22, 2012
A quiet weekend in the country
Despite a healthy [or unhealthy] dose of alcohol on Friday evening, I didn't sleep well so Saturday morning I opened the curtains and watched the sky lighten and listened to the rain on the caravan and the birds singing in a determinedly joyful way. I wondered whether I had woken up at Glastonbury, boggy fields, mud up to my knees and debris everywhere. It looks like every photo I have ever seen of Glastonbury, minus the music and drugs. Even I know that my collection of 2 CDs does not amount to a music fest. In addition, my bloody arthritis is getting worse. The weekend was a mixture of a sudden burst of housekeeping, taking my bag of smelly muddy clothes to the laundrette, collecting cardboard, and completing distribution of said cardboard in the raised beds in the middle of a downpour [this done in my mac and wellies over my pyjamas, which goes to show that living in the middle of nowhere can have its advantages].
I could have lit a big fire in the house or I could have read through some of my gardening books or I could have done some cooking but I did none of those things. I slobbed. I did briefly visit Joris and Patricia for a coffee. But basically, it was a 'nothing' weekend for me.
The Poney Club held a spectacle on Saturday night, starting at 9.30, with a band. I put cotton wool in my ears, took a tablet and didn't wake til morning.
Darren didn't come on Saturday as it would have been almost impossible to move the digger around. I asked him to build me an Ark next week if the rain doesn't hold off a bit. On Sunday he took the pine roots out, although, unsurprisingly, it was not without its problems but he managed most of them.
At the time of writing, I am expecting that tomorrow I will see Darren and Stuart, the plumber, the arrival of the skip, a load of manure and possibly receive some plants by mail order. I am confident that I will see Darren and Stuart but let's see about everything else...............
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| There they are, just waiting for some horse manure |
I could have lit a big fire in the house or I could have read through some of my gardening books or I could have done some cooking but I did none of those things. I slobbed. I did briefly visit Joris and Patricia for a coffee. But basically, it was a 'nothing' weekend for me.
The Poney Club held a spectacle on Saturday night, starting at 9.30, with a band. I put cotton wool in my ears, took a tablet and didn't wake til morning.
Darren didn't come on Saturday as it would have been almost impossible to move the digger around. I asked him to build me an Ark next week if the rain doesn't hold off a bit. On Sunday he took the pine roots out, although, unsurprisingly, it was not without its problems but he managed most of them.
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| Oh good! Yet another bonfire |
Friday, April 20, 2012
It felt gross...................
Weather continues cold and showery with the odd sunny spell. This morning it was so cold that my arthritis made my hands zing, not in a good way.
I continued with my cardboard hunt and headed off to the supermarkets and the wine shop before going to pick some up from a chap who had offered it via the Internet [honest!]. Anyway, he lived quite a way away but I thought it would be a good opportunity to have a drive around and it was quite pleasant. However when I got to his house, which was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, 8 kms from the nearest village, it looked very rundown and overrun with cats. I wandered around, knocking on some of the windows and eventually found him. He was old, very grubby,in filthy clothes, unshaven with weepy eyes and there was something terribly unsavory about him. I was really spooked and with every passing minute, the feeling got worse. I was very aware that no one on earth knew where I was, my nearest relative was 8 hours away and I probably wouldn't be missed for a long while if I disappeared. He wanted me to drive my car around the back but I said that I didn't want to and just kept loading up the cardboard. My unease grew - I just don't know why - after all I'm a bit long in the tooth to be kept as a sex slave!!
I took my cellphone from the car and started talking into it as if I were talking to Darren, saying 'Yes, I'll be back as soon as I can. You know where I am, I'm about 8 kms from xxxx on the road to xx, picking up cardboard.' Then I put down the phone and had a bit of a rant about builders. Despite repeated requests to come into the house for coffee, I refused, saying that I had to get back by 12 or Darren was going to walk off the job, rolling my eyes at the general stroppiness of English workmen. I revved up and rushed off. It felt gross!!
Poor Darren was slogging away at the house, totally unaware of course. But we did laugh about it later. I said 'Maybe I overreacted, maybe I'm a bit mad.' and he replied 'Well, yes but that doesn't make you a bad person.' which was not my preferred response. Perhaps he's been taking lessons from Chris.
Anyway, back in the real world.. Seal does not do it for me after Adele, although I bloody love some of the tracks. So in the car, I'm listening to Adele again.
I bought some wine for emergencies, like thirst, celebrating the weekend, etc etc and then I went out for lunch as I thought I deserved a treat. I went to the same restaurant as last week as the food is always good and this time the waiter treated me like a long-lost buddy and then asked if I were on my own. Resisting the temptation to do a John Cleese and look around in amazement as if my coterie of hangers-on has just disappeared into thin air, I agreed with him that I was, indeed, on my own. The food was delicious and I relaxed after my overwrought morning.
The afternoon was less exciting and more productive. We received a very official looking letter from the Prefet, which always turns the stomach to water, but in fact it was just to say that we don't need permission to demolish the 4 rooms that we have just demolished. Lucky break! I smashed some more tiles in the potager, spread the cardboard and paper over the tiles in 3 of the 6 beds. It was backbreaking work but I guess it's good exercise. Darren has been digging away and started the hole for the micro station, next to the caravan. It's not quite as bad as he thought it might be but we're still going to have to get in a majorly enormous bit of kit to deal with the over-engineered paths behind the house!
I visited both sets of neighbours to ask if they minded us having the machines working on Sunday. Mme B was fine about it and also donated some old newspapers for the potager and showed me the tent which has been blowing around her land since last Sunday and has now settled in a valley. Didier was also fine about it but he was a bit worried because Chris had given him the impression that we were going to plant a hedge on the boundary. I explained that we are planting lavateria which grow to about 1 metre and he was a lot happier. I also explained that Chris knows buggerall about gardening. We had a little chat and I found myself again doing all those funny little French shrugs and signals [easier than trying to speak the language!!]. Actually, things must be improving. I no longer wonder whether they will understand me, I wonder how they will react to what I say.
I phoned the plumber and left a message asking him to put in a new tap on the front of the house as the present one leaks like buggery and he phoned back later and said he would be around ce soir
to have a look and would do the job on Monday. However recent experiences with this plumber left me less than convinced that he would turn up. In the event, experience triumphed over optimism!!
Around 6pm the weather degenerated, which is good for the garden, especially for the cardboard, which needs to mulch down. [I must say this organic business changes your view about a lot of things]. It's not so good for me as it got colder and I couldn't hear Radio 4's finest so I opened some wine... Not so good either for the Poney Club who are rehearsing for their spectacle which takes place tomorrow night. I wouldn't mind going but it doesn't start til 9pm so think earplugs are a more likely option.
The weather improved a bit and faced with a choice of evening activities, it was either to have some wine or develop my mental health issues so I decided to make life easier for my immediate family [long-term] and go for the alcohol option.
Weather forecast for tomorrow - grim!
I continued with my cardboard hunt and headed off to the supermarkets and the wine shop before going to pick some up from a chap who had offered it via the Internet [honest!]. Anyway, he lived quite a way away but I thought it would be a good opportunity to have a drive around and it was quite pleasant. However when I got to his house, which was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, 8 kms from the nearest village, it looked very rundown and overrun with cats. I wandered around, knocking on some of the windows and eventually found him. He was old, very grubby,in filthy clothes, unshaven with weepy eyes and there was something terribly unsavory about him. I was really spooked and with every passing minute, the feeling got worse. I was very aware that no one on earth knew where I was, my nearest relative was 8 hours away and I probably wouldn't be missed for a long while if I disappeared. He wanted me to drive my car around the back but I said that I didn't want to and just kept loading up the cardboard. My unease grew - I just don't know why - after all I'm a bit long in the tooth to be kept as a sex slave!!
I took my cellphone from the car and started talking into it as if I were talking to Darren, saying 'Yes, I'll be back as soon as I can. You know where I am, I'm about 8 kms from xxxx on the road to xx, picking up cardboard.' Then I put down the phone and had a bit of a rant about builders. Despite repeated requests to come into the house for coffee, I refused, saying that I had to get back by 12 or Darren was going to walk off the job, rolling my eyes at the general stroppiness of English workmen. I revved up and rushed off. It felt gross!!
Poor Darren was slogging away at the house, totally unaware of course. But we did laugh about it later. I said 'Maybe I overreacted, maybe I'm a bit mad.' and he replied 'Well, yes but that doesn't make you a bad person.' which was not my preferred response. Perhaps he's been taking lessons from Chris.
Anyway, back in the real world.. Seal does not do it for me after Adele, although I bloody love some of the tracks. So in the car, I'm listening to Adele again.
I bought some wine for emergencies, like thirst, celebrating the weekend, etc etc and then I went out for lunch as I thought I deserved a treat. I went to the same restaurant as last week as the food is always good and this time the waiter treated me like a long-lost buddy and then asked if I were on my own. Resisting the temptation to do a John Cleese and look around in amazement as if my coterie of hangers-on has just disappeared into thin air, I agreed with him that I was, indeed, on my own. The food was delicious and I relaxed after my overwrought morning.
The afternoon was less exciting and more productive. We received a very official looking letter from the Prefet, which always turns the stomach to water, but in fact it was just to say that we don't need permission to demolish the 4 rooms that we have just demolished. Lucky break! I smashed some more tiles in the potager, spread the cardboard and paper over the tiles in 3 of the 6 beds. It was backbreaking work but I guess it's good exercise. Darren has been digging away and started the hole for the micro station, next to the caravan. It's not quite as bad as he thought it might be but we're still going to have to get in a majorly enormous bit of kit to deal with the over-engineered paths behind the house!
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| Darren, the demanding demolition man!! Taken from the caravan |
I phoned the plumber and left a message asking him to put in a new tap on the front of the house as the present one leaks like buggery and he phoned back later and said he would be around ce soir
to have a look and would do the job on Monday. However recent experiences with this plumber left me less than convinced that he would turn up. In the event, experience triumphed over optimism!!
Around 6pm the weather degenerated, which is good for the garden, especially for the cardboard, which needs to mulch down. [I must say this organic business changes your view about a lot of things]. It's not so good for me as it got colder and I couldn't hear Radio 4's finest so I opened some wine... Not so good either for the Poney Club who are rehearsing for their spectacle which takes place tomorrow night. I wouldn't mind going but it doesn't start til 9pm so think earplugs are a more likely option.
The weather improved a bit and faced with a choice of evening activities, it was either to have some wine or develop my mental health issues so I decided to make life easier for my immediate family [long-term] and go for the alcohol option.
Weather forecast for tomorrow - grim!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Bad news or disaster?
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| The view from the caravan today |
A lot of demolition got done today. The weather continued to fluctuate between heavy showers and warm sunshine. The wind continues cold.
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| The back rooms come down |
I spent the day either smashing up roof tiles in the raised beds with a sledgehammer or searching in all the supermarkets and the local dump for cardboard to use in the very same organic raised beds. Consequently my arms are feeling very odd and I am feeling very rejected as apparently asking for cardboard rates on approximately the same level as asking for drugs - and it elicits more or less the same shocked response. I also phoned the dumper people several times on Darren's behalf but the lady in the office had definitely taken against Darren and was determined to be as unhelpful as possible.
On the plus side, I doubled the size of my CD collection when my new CD arrived. Sorry, Adele, you are not the only game in town any more. The Seal CD was not as jaw droppingly spine tingling as Adele's masterpiece but his rendition of Stand By Me was pretty wonderful.
I did manage to get one of the raised beds covered in paper and cardboard in between heavy showers.
Darren didn't leave til around 7pm, partly because he wanted to get a lot of the demolition done and partly because he discovered that the floors in the extension are all around 20 cm thick with steel reinforcing rods all the way through. His machine cannot possibly deal with that. This has led him to believe that the floors in the back rooms are VERY thick reinforced concrete and could not be dug up without the use of such a large machine that we could have to knock the walls down to enable it to enter the house.
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| Everyone's gone home to reflect on today's findings |
We can deal with the interior problems, maybe by installing the underfloor heating on top of the existing floor - the ceilings are high enough - or at least we can consider when we know the exact state of the floor. But today's problem means that Darren can either run the drains around the outside of the demolished rooms or we can hire a proper mega enormous bit of kit and get all those external floors up now and he can do the job properly. We are talking a few thousand euros so a big decision.
So all I had to do now was explain the situation to Chris in Angola....
I had intended to go out and have a meal tonight but I wasn't really in the mood, so I made myself something from the freezer and sat silently in the gloom, the noise from my BBC podcast drowned out by the rain. I ran out of wine. Not the best evening of my life.....
As they say in the film, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, 'It'll be all right in the end, if it's not all right, it's not the end'
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Decent rains at last
I intended to get up late today but I was thwarted by the builders turning off the electricity to move the cable. Consequently I was so cold I had to get dressed. My arthritis is really bad as a result of the cold weather so I wasn't the happiest bunny in the world.
The heavy showers that had lulled me to sleep last night continued all day, with sunny periods in between. Great for the garden but not so much for the builders. The wooden rafters were pretty slippery but they carried on regardless except when things were really dire and the rain was sheeting down.
They had another bonfire and I lit a big fire in the house to warm it through a bit. After 10 days of almost continuous burning, I now find I have slightly more wood than I started with. It's Hellish.
The micro station hadn't arrived by lunchtime, neither had the empty skip so tempers were a little on the short side.
In the afternoon I attempted to get a hot shower, I managed a tepid one, which turned very hot and finished with a flourish of freezing water. It's the gas boiler's way of showing who's boss! But, even so, after a shower and hairwash I felt substantially better.
They started the demolition which was noisy - to be expected - but it did seem to involve a lot of stonework landing on the caravan. I felt totally under siege, even when they shouted 'Sorry' and I was stressed anyway because I was still trying to decipher the instructions on how to put the brushcutter together. It wasn't a linguistic problem, the instructions were in English. I just couldn't understand the sodding pictures. I think I've managed it now.
Thank God the weather turned bad and they gave it up around 4.30 and went home, still without micro station and the skip.
A long lonely evening beckoned so I decided to get to grips with all my websites on French gardens, no-dig gardens, lasagne gardens, irrigation, ecological pools etc etc. It needed doing and it was helped along with a drop of French finest and some hot soup. I only gave up when the cold threatened to send my arthritis to unacceptable levels of pain.
Sleep was prevented most of the night by the rain pounding on the roof. I keep telling myself that it's good for the garden. I really could not have forseen a retirement like this!!
The heavy showers that had lulled me to sleep last night continued all day, with sunny periods in between. Great for the garden but not so much for the builders. The wooden rafters were pretty slippery but they carried on regardless except when things were really dire and the rain was sheeting down.
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Cutting through the rafters [between showers]
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They had another bonfire and I lit a big fire in the house to warm it through a bit. After 10 days of almost continuous burning, I now find I have slightly more wood than I started with. It's Hellish.
The micro station hadn't arrived by lunchtime, neither had the empty skip so tempers were a little on the short side.
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| Getting there! |
In the afternoon I attempted to get a hot shower, I managed a tepid one, which turned very hot and finished with a flourish of freezing water. It's the gas boiler's way of showing who's boss! But, even so, after a shower and hairwash I felt substantially better.
They started the demolition which was noisy - to be expected - but it did seem to involve a lot of stonework landing on the caravan. I felt totally under siege, even when they shouted 'Sorry' and I was stressed anyway because I was still trying to decipher the instructions on how to put the brushcutter together. It wasn't a linguistic problem, the instructions were in English. I just couldn't understand the sodding pictures. I think I've managed it now.
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| At the end of the day |
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| Both of these last 2 photos were taken from inside the caravan - too damn wet to venture outside! |
Sleep was prevented most of the night by the rain pounding on the roof. I keep telling myself that it's good for the garden. I really could not have forseen a retirement like this!!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I'm living on a building site....
..... and I'm definitely not complaining, I've been waiting to write those words for ages!!
Work started today on demolishing another four rooms, so we'll be left with half the number we started with. 'We'll have 9 big rooms instead of 19 small ones. One of the rooms, pictured below with a ladder at the window, has no door!! It had a load of old tat in it dating back almost 40 years and it all had to be thrown out of the window and then I was put in charge of - I can't believe it - burning the rubbish. Oh well it's got to be done. I reckon that the next time they elect a Pope, they'll invite me to do the smoke signals, I've had so much practice.
There was lots of personal stuff there and it seemed such a shame that it was being chucked onto a fire by a total stranger but I guess if they'd wanted it, they'd have taken it when they left.
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| View from the caravan door towards the area to be demolished |
The guys worked steadily all day and it was nice to have some company. Falling roof tiles caused 2 holes in the soil pipe which goes from the caravan to the septic tank, but that should be a thing of the past very soon, I hope, once the new micro station is installed. So it's not a disaster. Seven hours later, thank God, it started to rain heavily so I crawled into the caravan in the hope of a hot shower. Got a tepid one!
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| It's difficult to tell from this picture but the roof tiles have all been removed from the 4 rooms, just the rafters remain. |
The weather forecast is cold and wet for the next 24 hours, if not I'll be burning wood again! We could do with a decent bit of heavy rain otherwise the laurels won't get planted til Autumn. But by 7.30 the rain had stopped.
Kerry's 41 today, I'm gobsmacked, where did the time go?
Three out of two today!
The wind continued so high on Monday that I couldn't have a bonfire and the weather had definitely taken a turn for the colder so, after getting dressed under the duvet, I took myself off to the laundrette just to warm up because the cold is playing havoc with my arthritis.
Joy of joys - the builder turned up late in the morning so that he could do some measurements and he assures me that work in earnest will start tomorrow at around 8.30. I explained that I don't get up until 10 because I would die of hypothermia.
Then the gardener came in the afternoon to finish off the lawn. Two out of two. Yay!!
A beautiful sunny day but I did very little work in the garden as, even with my sheepskin jacket, it was too cold to stay out there for long. [By the way, not sure it was a real sheep that donated its skin, I didn't ask in Primark and the label's in Chinese]. It seemed a waste of a day but I pottered around the garden, tidying up a bit and moving a lot of wood into the house in the hope that we get the torrential downpour that is forecast. We need more really heavy rain before I can plant the 30 metres of laurel hedging in the trench I have prepared. All we've had recently is the sort of drizzle that seeps into your skin and bones but leaves the garden still gagging for water.
I decided to light a fire in the house, which is always fun because the house seems to enjoy each fire and melt a little into us. I know this sounds fanciful but it takes a while for a stone house to warm, even though the fire seems big enough to roast a suckling pig on [I don't know what a suckling pig is exactly but I am sure I could roast it over our fire]. It was probably the wrong decision because the wind died down later but, what the hell, I'm not a meteorologist!
Well!!! 3 out of 2 today because in the afternoon a [relatively young and gorgeous] Frenchman arrived driving a large vehicle with a skip on the back. The only drawback was that the skip was full of rubble. He insisted that Darren had ordered a skip full of rubble, I said that Darren had ordered a skip FOR rubble but a] I am not male and b] I couldn't get hold of Darren on any of the 3 numbers I have for him so I was on sandy soil when I insisted that I would not accept it. Eventually he left and I sat in front of the fire being a wise woman on my own [accompanied by a bottle of the finest local wine of course].
Chris had a worse day, in Angola, where the Delegation was flooded, particularly the IT room.
The forecast was for below zero temperatures overnight. For once it was right!
Joy of joys - the builder turned up late in the morning so that he could do some measurements and he assures me that work in earnest will start tomorrow at around 8.30. I explained that I don't get up until 10 because I would die of hypothermia.
Then the gardener came in the afternoon to finish off the lawn. Two out of two. Yay!!
A beautiful sunny day but I did very little work in the garden as, even with my sheepskin jacket, it was too cold to stay out there for long. [By the way, not sure it was a real sheep that donated its skin, I didn't ask in Primark and the label's in Chinese]. It seemed a waste of a day but I pottered around the garden, tidying up a bit and moving a lot of wood into the house in the hope that we get the torrential downpour that is forecast. We need more really heavy rain before I can plant the 30 metres of laurel hedging in the trench I have prepared. All we've had recently is the sort of drizzle that seeps into your skin and bones but leaves the garden still gagging for water.
I decided to light a fire in the house, which is always fun because the house seems to enjoy each fire and melt a little into us. I know this sounds fanciful but it takes a while for a stone house to warm, even though the fire seems big enough to roast a suckling pig on [I don't know what a suckling pig is exactly but I am sure I could roast it over our fire]. It was probably the wrong decision because the wind died down later but, what the hell, I'm not a meteorologist!
Well!!! 3 out of 2 today because in the afternoon a [relatively young and gorgeous] Frenchman arrived driving a large vehicle with a skip on the back. The only drawback was that the skip was full of rubble. He insisted that Darren had ordered a skip full of rubble, I said that Darren had ordered a skip FOR rubble but a] I am not male and b] I couldn't get hold of Darren on any of the 3 numbers I have for him so I was on sandy soil when I insisted that I would not accept it. Eventually he left and I sat in front of the fire being a wise woman on my own [accompanied by a bottle of the finest local wine of course].
Chris had a worse day, in Angola, where the Delegation was flooded, particularly the IT room.
The forecast was for below zero temperatures overnight. For once it was right!
Monday, April 16, 2012
One out of two ...
Saturday I was expecting the builder and the gardener. Well, one of them turned up and it wasn't the builder! Well, to be fair he did say Saturday or Monday.
The gardener is a small, ancient, weathered man with only 3 teeth. He speaks with such a strong accent that he is almost incomprehensible but he lives next door to an English woman and can say YES and OK so thinks that he's multilingual! He couldn't understand me very well either but we got by with a lot of head nodding and smiling. He did a good job of the lawn and the smell of newly-cut grass did its usual trick of lifting the spirits, temporarily at least.
Sunday it is forbidden to light bonfires, what a relief! I went for a wander around the garden centre and then tried to prepare the trench for the laurel hedge [30 metres] but we need a decent downpour instead of all this insipid constant drizzle.
I was feeling pretty tired, guess I'm not used to all this exercise, so I took the afternoon off. Listened to Radio 4 and read my kindle while the wind howled around the caravan. I must say it was a particularly forceful and bitterly cold wind. I felt quite protected although the caravan was definitely making lots of creaky noises.
I was only disturbed when Mme B battled against the wind from next door. Wearing her pyjamas and dressing gown, scarf knotted around her neck [stylish even in moments of stress!] and without even her cigarette holder, she tottered to the caravan. I was really worried that something serious was wrong because it was a horrendous day. But it transpired she had fought her way through the strong, cold winds to ask me if I had a blue tent as one was rolling around her grounds. Not guilty! I sent her back off to the warmth and safety of her house before we both froze to death.
I always knew that the cold would be an issue but I didn't realise how difficult I would find the solitude. Most of the time I am actually quite happy with my own company but it would be nice to sit and have a wind-down drink and a chat in the evenings. Chris did Skype but he was keen to get back to the football and I was in the middle of trying to assemble a brushcutter.
By mistake I put the fire and the kettle on at the same time and the electricity went off so I had to wrap up and make my miserable way through the biting wind, unlock the house, run back for the torch and try and remember everything Chris had told me about the fuses. Luckily it was just the trip switch and I ran happily back to the warm caravan, ready to crawl into bed early and hope that Monday would be a more productive day.
The wind howled around the caravan all night long, it was really creepy! And really really cold. And, if anyone's interested, my nails are totally buggered!
The gardener is a small, ancient, weathered man with only 3 teeth. He speaks with such a strong accent that he is almost incomprehensible but he lives next door to an English woman and can say YES and OK so thinks that he's multilingual! He couldn't understand me very well either but we got by with a lot of head nodding and smiling. He did a good job of the lawn and the smell of newly-cut grass did its usual trick of lifting the spirits, temporarily at least.
Sunday it is forbidden to light bonfires, what a relief! I went for a wander around the garden centre and then tried to prepare the trench for the laurel hedge [30 metres] but we need a decent downpour instead of all this insipid constant drizzle.
I was feeling pretty tired, guess I'm not used to all this exercise, so I took the afternoon off. Listened to Radio 4 and read my kindle while the wind howled around the caravan. I must say it was a particularly forceful and bitterly cold wind. I felt quite protected although the caravan was definitely making lots of creaky noises.
I was only disturbed when Mme B battled against the wind from next door. Wearing her pyjamas and dressing gown, scarf knotted around her neck [stylish even in moments of stress!] and without even her cigarette holder, she tottered to the caravan. I was really worried that something serious was wrong because it was a horrendous day. But it transpired she had fought her way through the strong, cold winds to ask me if I had a blue tent as one was rolling around her grounds. Not guilty! I sent her back off to the warmth and safety of her house before we both froze to death.
I always knew that the cold would be an issue but I didn't realise how difficult I would find the solitude. Most of the time I am actually quite happy with my own company but it would be nice to sit and have a wind-down drink and a chat in the evenings. Chris did Skype but he was keen to get back to the football and I was in the middle of trying to assemble a brushcutter.
By mistake I put the fire and the kettle on at the same time and the electricity went off so I had to wrap up and make my miserable way through the biting wind, unlock the house, run back for the torch and try and remember everything Chris had told me about the fuses. Luckily it was just the trip switch and I ran happily back to the warm caravan, ready to crawl into bed early and hope that Monday would be a more productive day.
The wind howled around the caravan all night long, it was really creepy! And really really cold. And, if anyone's interested, my nails are totally buggered!
Friday, April 13, 2012
Friday the 13th
Mme B, my neighbour told me that it was 3 degrees overnight. I knew it was cold because my face was so cold it woke me up and I had to hide under the duvet til 10 o'clock when it was warm enough to get up! Mme B is the first person I have had a real person conversation with for a couple of days but it wasn't a long conversation as she was off to her gym class, not bad for 82.
I went to buy some garden tools and didn't swap much more than the usual pleasantries so I decided to go out for lunch in the hope that I'd have a chat with someone. Unless you count a superscillious waiter questioning my decision not to have wine with lunch, then the expedition wasn't much of a success. Despite all weather forecasts, it was sunny when I got home so I did some more branch-burning until it got too cold. I remind myself that I am in a foreign country, living in a caravan and freezing cold for much of the time because I am doing this for my grandchildren, so that they have somewhere lovely to come and stay. I am not sure I believe myself.
Read the 14 day weather forecast, which is more rain and colder. Finished the day with a Skype fight with Chris.
Glad to get to bed
I went to buy some garden tools and didn't swap much more than the usual pleasantries so I decided to go out for lunch in the hope that I'd have a chat with someone. Unless you count a superscillious waiter questioning my decision not to have wine with lunch, then the expedition wasn't much of a success. Despite all weather forecasts, it was sunny when I got home so I did some more branch-burning until it got too cold. I remind myself that I am in a foreign country, living in a caravan and freezing cold for much of the time because I am doing this for my grandchildren, so that they have somewhere lovely to come and stay. I am not sure I believe myself.
Read the 14 day weather forecast, which is more rain and colder. Finished the day with a Skype fight with Chris.
Glad to get to bed
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Home Alone
I'm trying hard to settle into life alone here in the middle of nowhere. Doing a lot of sorting out, cleaning and I even tackled the laundrette run again. When I left my washing, it was deserted, but by the time I returned from a visit to the station to find out about a Seniors Railcard [too expensive and demeaning, I'm really not ready for it yet], the laundrette was full of people I did not wish to share a bank holiday afternoon with, nor did I wish them to watch my smalls rotate in the dryer. Why are laundrettes always so depressing?? Anyway, I lugged the laundry home and set it up in the middle of the lounge so I now have to skirt around it if I want to go anywhere or do anything.
Although the weather was OK I didn't dare light a bonfire as apparently it is a sin worse than most to light up on a Sunday or jour férié. It was nearly 9 o'clock before the sun went down, wow!
I found it hard to settle down in the caravan and kept making excuses not to go to bed [one more cup of tea etc] but eventually I had to give in!
Life has settled down to a routine of getting up late so that it's warmer, then housework, shopping, administration at the Mairie, gardening, visiting our newly-widowed neighbour to get smoked into incoherence, bonfire-making on the rare occasions it's not raining and firelighting in the lounge when it is. Food is as fast as it can get, at the moment I can't be bothered to cook for myself. I have put all my shoes in the car, it's a much better idea as I have to wear wellingtons to get to the car, or even to get to the house,as I gloop through the mud.
The builder has promised that he will be starting on Saturday.......................we'll see!
My intention to stay off alcohol for a while has hit a very sticky bit! Thank God for the internet, I can communicate with people, listen to Radio 4 and get a penis enlargement!!!!
Although the weather was OK I didn't dare light a bonfire as apparently it is a sin worse than most to light up on a Sunday or jour férié. It was nearly 9 o'clock before the sun went down, wow!
I found it hard to settle down in the caravan and kept making excuses not to go to bed [one more cup of tea etc] but eventually I had to give in!
Life has settled down to a routine of getting up late so that it's warmer, then housework, shopping, administration at the Mairie, gardening, visiting our newly-widowed neighbour to get smoked into incoherence, bonfire-making on the rare occasions it's not raining and firelighting in the lounge when it is. Food is as fast as it can get, at the moment I can't be bothered to cook for myself. I have put all my shoes in the car, it's a much better idea as I have to wear wellingtons to get to the car, or even to get to the house,as I gloop through the mud.
The neighbour is very kind and thoughtful but I find it difficult to understand what she's saying as she talks fast and moves her dentures around her mouth at the same time. She's not a woman who takes kindly to criticism or disagreement so I generally nod and agree and that seems to be OK all round.
I haven't gone back to the French dancing class as I have lost a bit of my spark at the moment. But I sometimes light a big fire in the house and have a dance there.
I have been listening a lot to Radio Nostalgie in the car. But I don't think I can take it any longer. They appear to have a portfolio of approximately 50 records which they play in whatever order they please. One is by Gilbert O'Sullivan! Today, with no hint of irony, he played 'Raindrops keep falling on my Head' and I almost crashed the car in fury!
My intention to stay off alcohol for a while has hit a very sticky bit! Thank God for the internet, I can communicate with people, listen to Radio 4 and get a penis enlargement!!!!
Monday, April 9, 2012
The sad thing about my life..........
is that I am always saying goodbye to people I love.
Playing Adele in the car on the way back from the airport might not have been a wise move.
Still only 41 days til I see my little Beth and 54 til I see Chris, and maybe I'll see Kate in the meantime too.
**** Got the dates wrong!! It was 46 til I see Chris and 34 til Beth. Chris told me, he must be counting too.
Playing Adele in the car on the way back from the airport might not have been a wise move.
Still only 41 days til I see my little Beth and 54 til I see Chris, and maybe I'll see Kate in the meantime too.
**** Got the dates wrong!! It was 46 til I see Chris and 34 til Beth. Chris told me, he must be counting too.
Chris's last weekend
Saturday it continued to rain and we valiantly tried to plant the laurels but gave up around lunchtime when Simon came to finally remove the radiators and boiler. He's pleased and we're pleased to get rid so definitely a win-win situation, especially as money changed hands and also as the demolition is supposed to start on Monday.
We had just retreated to the caravan absolutely soaking and really cold when the neighbour's daughter turned up with her daughter and her exchange student from England. They stayed until I started violently shivering and then they gave me a few odd looks and headed home for lunch. I had a shower to try and get warm. I spent some time trying to convince myself that gardening in the freezing rain is good for the skin and will give me a lovely glow. So far, the mirror seems to indicate otherwise.
Rain prevented much more work, although Chris had a go at making the raised beds because he'd like to get them finished before he leaves on Monday and we pottered around the house trying to convince ourselves that progress is being made.
The sun came out around 5pm but by then we didn't care, Chris was totally sodden and mudsplattered and fed up but still had chores to finish before he goes and he also had to give Simon a hand to move the enormously heavy boiler and radiators. Water had naturally leaked everywhere so the ground floor was about 2 inches deep everywhere. I just returned to the caravan!
We went out for dinner and returned to find Simon and Frederic still trying to load the last of the stuff. It was after 9.30, cold and dark. I began to wonder if perhaps money should have changed hands in the other direction before they took everything away!
Sunday dawned just as grey as miserable and we finished planting the laurels and then constructed the raised beds.
As we were so wet and cold and fed up again, we decided to go to a hotel in Bordeaux and spend hours in the bathroom. I packed an entire carrier bag of toiletries because I may not see a bath for some time in the future.
When we arrived the hotel was pretty average so we decided to go out for a few drinks. However something weird had happened to France between midday and 4pm. It had shut down. The
shoulder-shrugging, garlic-loving. Gaullois-smoking country was about as exciting and accessible as the Marie Celeste. At midday on Easter Sunday, it dies, with one remarkable exception. The boulangeries/pattisseries were all open and doing good business. Yes, you could buy a cake, pastry, bread and chocolate in almost any shape known to man but getting a drink and meal was completely out of the question. Well, almost...........we ended up eating at McDonalds, which served as a reminder of just how awful food can be, and we drove to the airport to drink overpriced beers.
However the anticipated bath more than lived up to expectations and it was wonderful to feel clean again.
We had just retreated to the caravan absolutely soaking and really cold when the neighbour's daughter turned up with her daughter and her exchange student from England. They stayed until I started violently shivering and then they gave me a few odd looks and headed home for lunch. I had a shower to try and get warm. I spent some time trying to convince myself that gardening in the freezing rain is good for the skin and will give me a lovely glow. So far, the mirror seems to indicate otherwise.
Rain prevented much more work, although Chris had a go at making the raised beds because he'd like to get them finished before he leaves on Monday and we pottered around the house trying to convince ourselves that progress is being made.
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| The man of the house having a coffee break before heading back out to the cold and damp |
We went out for dinner and returned to find Simon and Frederic still trying to load the last of the stuff. It was after 9.30, cold and dark. I began to wonder if perhaps money should have changed hands in the other direction before they took everything away!
Sunday dawned just as grey as miserable and we finished planting the laurels and then constructed the raised beds.
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| Raised beds starting to take shape. We are on our way to an organic garden! |
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| The sun came out for less than 5 minutes! |
As we were so wet and cold and fed up again, we decided to go to a hotel in Bordeaux and spend hours in the bathroom. I packed an entire carrier bag of toiletries because I may not see a bath for some time in the future.
When we arrived the hotel was pretty average so we decided to go out for a few drinks. However something weird had happened to France between midday and 4pm. It had shut down. The
shoulder-shrugging, garlic-loving. Gaullois-smoking country was about as exciting and accessible as the Marie Celeste. At midday on Easter Sunday, it dies, with one remarkable exception. The boulangeries/pattisseries were all open and doing good business. Yes, you could buy a cake, pastry, bread and chocolate in almost any shape known to man but getting a drink and meal was completely out of the question. Well, almost...........we ended up eating at McDonalds, which served as a reminder of just how awful food can be, and we drove to the airport to drink overpriced beers.
However the anticipated bath more than lived up to expectations and it was wonderful to feel clean again.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Something really nice happened on Wednesday but Friday not so good
The weather continues to be cold so on Wednesday we gave in and bought an oil-filled radiator for the bedroom. I've just got used to getting dressed under the duvets. The radiator in itself was nice enough but I also received a letter from a cousin of mine, Irish but lives in London, in which she enclosed some photos of some of my Irish relatives, cousins, aunts, grandparents. It was a lovely surprise - the biggest one being that I am a dead ringer for my Auntie Eileen, except she had thicker hair. I really liked her, she was generous and very, very funny. Of course, she was beautiful too.
Later on Wednesday we met with the architect who has all sorts of good ideas and I can see the price climbing by the minute. He has convinced us that the contractor should demolish 4 rooms instead of 2 when [if] he arrives on Monday as it will be more cost efficient. The other rooms would have to be demolished later anyway to make way for the extension. We'll wait and get an estimate and then decide. The man with the mini digger couldn't come as arranged as he had lost the keys to his trailer so we've booked him in for Friday. The laundrette was the usual horrible experience, once more I feel as if I've slipped back 35 years and it's not nice. Had a bonfire.
Thursday was spent with Henriette and Jackie, the parents of the lad that Chris did his school exchange with 40 years ago. We have kept in touch regularly with them and visit whenever we are in France. We had the usual 17 course meal accompanied by 5 wines. We tried to do some work when we got home but it was difficult....too tired by the midday excesses! We had yet another bonfire until it got rained off. Funny, we haven't even scratched the surface of all the cuttings we have to get rid of, and then we have to demolish and burn the sechoir, which may well keel over before we get round to it. We spent the evening on paperwork: Chris on a form for Permission de Demolir which takes 3 months to process [remember the demolition is due to happen on Monday] and me on trying to get a cheap flight back to the UK in May for some sanity time. Problems with that, oh well, there's a surprise. We also read a book on the French taxation system, just how exciting can life get? This DEFINITELY is a rhetorical question.
Well it got exciting on Friday, Good Friday it definitely wasn't. I woke, put on the heater and the kettle and - whoops - all the electricity went off, so no warmth and no internet. I had no choice but to get up and go to the shopping centre to access the email from the contractor that is doing the work next week [we hope]. On the way I stopped at the ATM but our Belgian bank card wouldn't let me have any money so I had to use the English card and I am so mean that I HATE having to change money that way and pay extortionate charges.
But Ian turned up with his digger and some work did actually get done for once. Chris went shopping for some fuses and returned half an hour later to get some money to pay for them. Slow progress!! The sound of the digger in the garden reassured me that some small progress was being made while I prepared the supper on the [thankfully, gas] cooker. Chris eventually returned with fuses which solved the first problem. Accessing the internet showed me that we had just paid a credit card bill which had taken us overdrawn so at least I knew why I couldn't get money out. Second mystery solved! Ian dug a big hole and buried a lot of crap. Yay!! He also went to the dechetterie and got loads of free compost and dug some trenches in the right place. I think Ian is a God among men in French artisan terms, he turns up when he says he will and does the job, charges a reasonable amount and then buggers off. Same can't be said for the electrician who turned up to remove the electrics from the rooms to be demolished. He didn't do that but he did move the earth thingy, which is apparently important. So only half a result there and he left everything where he dropped it, charged 50 euro for less than an hour's work.
We bought 18 trees. Had a bonfire. Today was very expensive.
The sun gave way to thunderstorms and rain so heavy we couldn't hear each other speak in the caravan. I guess it watered the new trees which are waiting patiently to be planted.
But compared to a week ago, we have a working toilet, a new radiator [that cannot be used in conjunction with the other radiator], 18 new trees [which have yet to be planted] and an intimate knowledge of bonfire law in France. This is progress of a sort.
Later on Wednesday we met with the architect who has all sorts of good ideas and I can see the price climbing by the minute. He has convinced us that the contractor should demolish 4 rooms instead of 2 when [if] he arrives on Monday as it will be more cost efficient. The other rooms would have to be demolished later anyway to make way for the extension. We'll wait and get an estimate and then decide. The man with the mini digger couldn't come as arranged as he had lost the keys to his trailer so we've booked him in for Friday. The laundrette was the usual horrible experience, once more I feel as if I've slipped back 35 years and it's not nice. Had a bonfire.
Thursday was spent with Henriette and Jackie, the parents of the lad that Chris did his school exchange with 40 years ago. We have kept in touch regularly with them and visit whenever we are in France. We had the usual 17 course meal accompanied by 5 wines. We tried to do some work when we got home but it was difficult....too tired by the midday excesses! We had yet another bonfire until it got rained off. Funny, we haven't even scratched the surface of all the cuttings we have to get rid of, and then we have to demolish and burn the sechoir, which may well keel over before we get round to it. We spent the evening on paperwork: Chris on a form for Permission de Demolir which takes 3 months to process [remember the demolition is due to happen on Monday] and me on trying to get a cheap flight back to the UK in May for some sanity time. Problems with that, oh well, there's a surprise. We also read a book on the French taxation system, just how exciting can life get? This DEFINITELY is a rhetorical question.
Well it got exciting on Friday, Good Friday it definitely wasn't. I woke, put on the heater and the kettle and - whoops - all the electricity went off, so no warmth and no internet. I had no choice but to get up and go to the shopping centre to access the email from the contractor that is doing the work next week [we hope]. On the way I stopped at the ATM but our Belgian bank card wouldn't let me have any money so I had to use the English card and I am so mean that I HATE having to change money that way and pay extortionate charges.
But Ian turned up with his digger and some work did actually get done for once. Chris went shopping for some fuses and returned half an hour later to get some money to pay for them. Slow progress!! The sound of the digger in the garden reassured me that some small progress was being made while I prepared the supper on the [thankfully, gas] cooker. Chris eventually returned with fuses which solved the first problem. Accessing the internet showed me that we had just paid a credit card bill which had taken us overdrawn so at least I knew why I couldn't get money out. Second mystery solved! Ian dug a big hole and buried a lot of crap. Yay!! He also went to the dechetterie and got loads of free compost and dug some trenches in the right place. I think Ian is a God among men in French artisan terms, he turns up when he says he will and does the job, charges a reasonable amount and then buggers off. Same can't be said for the electrician who turned up to remove the electrics from the rooms to be demolished. He didn't do that but he did move the earth thingy, which is apparently important. So only half a result there and he left everything where he dropped it, charged 50 euro for less than an hour's work.
We bought 18 trees. Had a bonfire. Today was very expensive.
The sun gave way to thunderstorms and rain so heavy we couldn't hear each other speak in the caravan. I guess it watered the new trees which are waiting patiently to be planted.
But compared to a week ago, we have a working toilet, a new radiator [that cannot be used in conjunction with the other radiator], 18 new trees [which have yet to be planted] and an intimate knowledge of bonfire law in France. This is progress of a sort.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Poisson d'avril, the hunt meal and an update on the plumber..
Another sleepless night due to worrying - at least we're warm and cosy. There are lots of things wandering around in the field outside the caravan, they sound big and dangerous but I'm too scared to get up and look out of the window. Eventually drift off back to sleep.
I've decided to blog less and leave out all the dross and depressing bits, so there's not much to write!
Sunday, 1 April is the date for one of the local hunt dinners, repas de chasse, with a midday start. We toddled off with our own plates, cutlery and glasses and staked our claim on one of the tables, surrounded by lots of 'good ole boys'. Luckily the weather had remained good as the first 2 courses were outside. Things didn't bode well, first course was Tropical Mix added to savoury biscuits accompanied by warm rosé. Then small plates of délices de sanglier appeared. This. transpired to be small bits of very tough liver of wild boar, mixed in roughly equal measures with garlic. These plates were the delight of all the locals, which homed in on them immediately. Elbows were sharpened and friendships were forgotten, it was every man and woman for themselves, it reminded me of how the pigeons used to zone in on an unsuspecting tourist holding bird food in Trafalgar Square. We moved inside for the soup and salad. Of course, being France the salade was mainly meat pie and covered with gezier [windpipe or some such!]. I'd had more or less enough by this point but then the fricasse de chevreil arrived, lovely casserole of deer with loads of raw garlic and toast.
I spotted quite a few guys wandering around the village hall with a big white paper fish on their back and someone eventually explained that this is the April Fools tradition. Oh well, everyone to their own...
We were expecting the next course Trou Adrésien to be a sort of sorbet and it was, but it was plopped in a glass of mouthwateringly strong eau de vie. So by 4.30ish we were ready for the main course which was sanglier [wild boar], accompanied by miniscule portions of vegetables.
We ploughed on through the salad and cheese courses and then the Black Forest gateau by which time neither of us could face any more and left. Such lightweights! We did, however, stay long enough for my neighbour to throw his glass of red wine over my white trousers, so at least I made in impression.
The week settled into a routine of waiting for workmen who never turn up [English and French], sleepless nights gradually getting colder.
Monday we sold all our radiators, boiler etc. Yay! and we made 2 raised beds from some of the pine logs.
The micro station and water recuperation tank were promised by 10am and when I finally got hold the guy around 9pm, he said ours had had a dent in it so he sent it back and there are no more of that model in stock so it'll be another 10 days before it arrives. So disappointing for Chris because the planned his trip around this installation. [He is quite excited by replacing the septic tank, which is pretty scary.]
Tuesday we froze and it rained but the long-lost plumber made a welcome re-appearance. It was so exciting, like sighting a leopard in the wild, but rarer. I wanted to take a photograph to remind myself of how exciting it is when someone turns up within a fortnight of their appointment.
We considered moving into the house to sleep but it's just big and unfriendly and we decided to light a fire in the lounge to try and cheer it up a bit.
Very satisfying day; a fire and a working toilet!
I've decided to blog less and leave out all the dross and depressing bits, so there's not much to write!
Sunday, 1 April is the date for one of the local hunt dinners, repas de chasse, with a midday start. We toddled off with our own plates, cutlery and glasses and staked our claim on one of the tables, surrounded by lots of 'good ole boys'. Luckily the weather had remained good as the first 2 courses were outside. Things didn't bode well, first course was Tropical Mix added to savoury biscuits accompanied by warm rosé. Then small plates of délices de sanglier appeared. This. transpired to be small bits of very tough liver of wild boar, mixed in roughly equal measures with garlic. These plates were the delight of all the locals, which homed in on them immediately. Elbows were sharpened and friendships were forgotten, it was every man and woman for themselves, it reminded me of how the pigeons used to zone in on an unsuspecting tourist holding bird food in Trafalgar Square. We moved inside for the soup and salad. Of course, being France the salade was mainly meat pie and covered with gezier [windpipe or some such!]. I'd had more or less enough by this point but then the fricasse de chevreil arrived, lovely casserole of deer with loads of raw garlic and toast.
 |
| Chris assessing the roasting sanglier |
 |
| Chris knocking back the eau de vie..... |
We were expecting the next course Trou Adrésien to be a sort of sorbet and it was, but it was plopped in a glass of mouthwateringly strong eau de vie. So by 4.30ish we were ready for the main course which was sanglier [wild boar], accompanied by miniscule portions of vegetables.
 |
| ......and tucking into the food |
We ploughed on through the salad and cheese courses and then the Black Forest gateau by which time neither of us could face any more and left. Such lightweights! We did, however, stay long enough for my neighbour to throw his glass of red wine over my white trousers, so at least I made in impression.
The week settled into a routine of waiting for workmen who never turn up [English and French], sleepless nights gradually getting colder.
Monday we sold all our radiators, boiler etc. Yay! and we made 2 raised beds from some of the pine logs.
The micro station and water recuperation tank were promised by 10am and when I finally got hold the guy around 9pm, he said ours had had a dent in it so he sent it back and there are no more of that model in stock so it'll be another 10 days before it arrives. So disappointing for Chris because the planned his trip around this installation. [He is quite excited by replacing the septic tank, which is pretty scary.]
Tuesday we froze and it rained but the long-lost plumber made a welcome re-appearance. It was so exciting, like sighting a leopard in the wild, but rarer. I wanted to take a photograph to remind myself of how exciting it is when someone turns up within a fortnight of their appointment.
We considered moving into the house to sleep but it's just big and unfriendly and we decided to light a fire in the lounge to try and cheer it up a bit.
Very satisfying day; a fire and a working toilet!
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