Walloping down

Walloping down came the timbers of the tall barn yesterday, done entirely by the efforts of Jean-Pierre, who only worked in the afternoon as he was done in by the previous days work of monkeying about single handedly in the top rafters of said barn. 
Man oh man, but it was dangerous work. At one point I had to slither and slide over the pile of fallen wooden detritus to untangle the lines of his safety harness which had tangled themselves in an unexpected tumble of beams which had rendered him swinging gaily about in what was left of the roof, otherwise he would have remained hoisted up in the air indefinitely. 
No to worry, though. Cup of tea soon soothed ruffled nerves. Jean-Pierre was OK as well, but only after had had a long sleep to recover! Bless.

Anyway, he managed to get hold of the digger, and was using that yesterday to get some more beams down, and to shift the fallen wood out to the ever growing wood pile, all of which comprises our once upon a time interior wood structure of Labartere.

To and fro he trundled, muddying up the courtyard which gave the ruffled soil an ideal opportunity to travel indoors to dry out, the soil's manner of porterage being the bottom of our boots and the eight feet belonging to the Bools and Gussy. So: mud everywhere. 

Now ensconced in the house for cooking duties, I was washing up at the sink in the house late afternoon. Jean-Pierre was carrying on with his to-ing and fro-ing, whilst I was in washing up reverie. Thump. A deep thud of sound shivered through the air, the house, me. Suddenly jolted into wakefulness from my mental washing-up slumbers, tout suite  my mind lurched into gear. Having had months of waiting for the house to fall down, now was the time for its demise, this urgent thought being confirmed by the bits of house which were wafting down over my head: not big bits, just lose bits of paint, mortar, the odd little stone.


Not to worry. My fears remained unfounded. All that had happened was that JP had dumped a large beam down by the window, 'For the house' he said. '
?' I thought. 
Bless me, but I don't know what we are supposed to be doing with that big chunk of wood but no doubt I will get to know in time. And I also realised that it is going to take me a while to have faith in the fact that the house is not going to fall down. The tall barn might, but the house: no. Up until just before last Christmas, for eighteen months, it was a possibility.

Otherwise, life down here in SW France continues on. Lovely sunshine yesterday, I am continuing my training with the cooking machine and endeavouring to get my work into print, Hubs is still spending endless hours at his PC earning us the money to do the roofs meanwhile regaling me with his endless lists of 'things we are going to do here'. Bless. And the 'roof project' carries on apace.

You know what? We are a very lucky pair of people.