Friday, 5 June 2009

Things that happen in the rain

I get wet, that's what happens. The forecasted storms did not happen overnight, probably because we had taken the precaution of disconnecting the Live Box, which is our Internet connection, after the disaster which befell Robin in Prechac whose Live Box became blown up and therefore broken forever when a thunderbolt crashed into his hedge and exploded like the biggest of firework displays resulting in him having to get another Live Box which doesn't work properly because they never do for ages after they are purchased because this is France and the way of it here. So Live Box disconnected, storm never happened, so not much rain. "Could have done with a bit more rain" I said to Lester as I headed on out for Boolie's pee and poo trip.

Now for some reason I went the long way. Down past Sara's, turn left, then eventually left again through the maize and corn fields to come back on ourselves. At the furthest point out, and not conveniently at Sara's so I could pop in for a coffee and keep dry, the heavens decided to open the tap and down came the rain. For a while a handy oak tree gave me shelter, but then the rain paused, so I stopped pausing and me and Bools walked on. No shelter for a few yards. The pause in the rain was a tease. We were both soaked by the time we reached the next shelter, this time an ash tree which did not have the thick canopy of the oak, so it was a waste of time to linger any longer because the drips coming down through the leaves were bigger than the raindrops falling from the sky.

My shirt was soaked. I couldn't get any wetter. So I scurried on. And then I began to feel the rain upon my skin, and you know what! It was exhilerating. Rivulets of water began running under my shirt, but I was sort of doing a jog-walk so wasn't cold. Down the rain came. And as it did I had the most curious sensation of well-being.

Now why was that? Am I losing my mental marbles? I will leave the answer to that question in your hands!

And so home again. Rain now stopped. Guess what! Builders were here. With a digger and a lorry and other vehicles, and all was go, go, go!

For a couple of hours.

Then the rain came down, this time accompanied by the thunder storm which wasn't a very vigorous storm in comparison to others we have survived, but nevertheless we thought it prudent to switch off the PC's and Live Box just so we wouldn't get fried by lightning strikes and thunderbolts. Just in case. Better to be safe than sorry.

A roar of a lorry. We looked askance at each other. Now who was that, we thought. Outside we went. And parked up on our grass was a huge lorry which was not the same lorry as was parked up on the back field yesterday but which belonged to men shoring up Claudine of the Chambre d'Hote's river bank which the Adour keeps eating away at and which she is endeavouring to put a stop to because she doesn't want her donkeys, sheep, ducks and chickens floating off down the river someday soon. No, this was a different lorry.

Lester does a sort of yelp. "It's the poutres".

Crikey they look huge. Huge enough to sink the lorry they are sitting on if the rain keeps on raining. Huge and heavy enough to push it into the ground to make new ruts to join the zillions of other ruts that Lester / Head Gardener has to deal with each time he takes his lawn mower out for an outing and which I have been trying to fill with offerings of soil left over from my digging up of the front garden. Huge, heavy and montrous enough to bog down the lorry as what happened in January to one lorry which gouged such a huge hole as it was revved up to get out of the mud that it sank up to its axles and had to be pulled out by a tractor.

Things I have learnt today: That walking in the rain is a fun thing to do, very enervating for the soul. That it is not necessary to eat all of the just-picked cherries, that Angel Jim brought round this morning from his fruit trees, in one hit as the repercussions to one's digestive system will be stunning to say the least an hour or so after the gorge. That one more series of ruts doesn't really matter, because they will all get filled in eventually. That I ought to try to remember that when HG changes the gas bottle for the caravan cooker that the temperature will be fiercer and so to pay attention to the clock and not to get too involved with writing the blog, although the singed bits on top of the cake can always be scraped off or covered with icing sugar if one had any that is, well I haven't so a scrape it is.


And may I introduce you to the poutres. Nine of them. And they are the beams which go into the house to hold it all together and will give us the structure for the downstairs ceilings, and the upstairs flooring.

And here is a photo left over from yesterday, which is the half barn floor with its spaghetti loops of hose which are hopefully going to have the electrical cables threaded through them when we can afford to have the electrics done.