Wafts of pleasure

Johnathen has been here for most of the week, working on the ceiling in the half barn and patching in some rather large holes in the low side wall which is going to be covered with plasterboard as well.

This is the only place in the house which will have one of its walls covered over in this way. And the reason why we decided to do this is because the ceiling is going to be boarded between the beams to cover over the insulation which is going in, and we needed to put a match for the plasterboarding somewhere else in the space. Johnathen was keen to cover over all of the walls. We said NO. One wall only. And the electrics will be hidden as well behind the boarding on that wall.

And so he sanded down the beams, two new ones and two old ones, sprayed all the wood with anti-termite stuff. And then painted all the wood with this divine mixture which has linseed in it.

I have been informed by HG that since we will have a large amount of wood in the house eventually, to expect the smell of the linseed mixture to be more or less always present. Apparently all the wood has to be washed over with the mix once or twice a year. We are going to have wooden ceilings downstairs. Much wood. Loads of linseed. Wafts of pleasure. Because the smell is absolutely gorgeous.

I keep popping into the half barn just to have a sniff. But then I also have a huge liking for the smell of creosote. I am even getting to be more comfy with the wafts which are emanating from the two dustbins in which are cooking nettles to make a fertilizer for the plants. Take it from me, that it is an unbelievable odour, oops! I mean, aroma!

So here is the half barn, with all the wood pristine and perfumed.

Tasks for next week: Electician to put the spot lights and plugs in. Builders to continue to break up the old flooring in the house, and prepare for the new flooring to go in. Johnathen has laid the foundations in the roof for the plasterboard, so will presumably continue with that once the electician has been in.

I am proud of our progress here. On some things we are not as far forward as I thought we would be, but on others we have made good progress. I thought the house would not have her roof on for two or three years, but that is happening quicker. I thought we would be further forward with our animals, but lack of time and the fact that much of the home-farm land where the animals will be kept is being used for the building work does not make this a a do-able project at the moment.

However, Sara of the Camels often brings us eggs to trade for sundry bits, such as Lester's skill at PC repair, and of late has been swapping lettuce, onions, and plants. It is a good trade.

Otherwise, we are starting to become familiar with the ongoing task of rotational crop planting in our veg plots. The fig tree has gone bonkers this year, so will have to start accumulating jam jars now ready for the fig harvest later on. Sara donated us some paper sacks to keep our potatoes in, and they are being stored in the half barn which is the coolest place for them. My fingernails seem to have a permanent portion of earth in them, and I am always in trousers now because of the gnats flying up and settling themselves on my knicker line if I wear a skirt.

But I have a liking for the waft of linseed. It smells very homely. If you would like to have a waft as well, just let me know and I will send you a sample in the post. I won't, of course, send you one of our beams, but I will send you a dab on a piece of calico.

Meanwhile, bon weekend, and signing off from here down in the South West of France.

A day in the life of...

Up with the lark this morning. Well, not quite. Sort of like a slow snail pace rather than a 'let's zip along into the day'. Thirty minute dig out front, one hour walk with Boolie but not jogging today - some power walking, some slowing-down walking, some 'let's stop and talk to the river, the cows, the trees, and anything else' type of walking, and one set of ten joggy-ish running steps followed by ten power-ish walking steps, after which I fell into 'amble-mode'.

Back at base camp, thirty minutes weeding of bed beyond the oak tree, then tea on, Lester roused, toast made, all is quietly on the move. But no builders. That's OK. All is peace.

Out front, armed with strimmer, do thirty minutes of grass cutting. Then thirty minutes of weeding again, apologising to the shrubs planted in early spring for my lack of care as I removed all manner of hangers on from around their feet.

Late morning, sun starting to turn up its heat, time to start lunch. Cold lamb left over from yesterday (donated by Val - thanks Val, it was a lovely bit of meat), lettuce and potatoes from garden. Other add-ons to the meal from the supermarket. Tea and cake into Lester in office, plus pat on the head to say he is being a good boy.

Johnathen calls round. Not starting work today. Will be here tomorrow. Discussion about where to put the lights in the ceiling of the half barn. J errs in favour of lighting it up like an airport runway. I think low lights, hardly visible. Discussion continuing. By the way J is putting the insulation and plasterboard on the ceiling.

Dinner. Done. Quick siesta, a few minutes longer than normal because Lester and myself both fell asleep.

Up and doing. Tea into office for Lester. Me out front, plus chair, plus tea, plus bag of crocheting, to sit under oak tree, wave to the neighbours driving past, watch the enormous range of visitors to the meadow flowers, listen to Bools gently snoring at my feet. A gorgeous summer afternoon. Meanwhile a clatter and a bang and a roar and general din signifies that the builders have turned up.

4pm. Time for coffee and cake. Sara calls in. She knows the format here. "It's 4 o'clock - time for cake" she says as she gets out of her car. In she brings two huge bowls of fruit. "You can make us some jam with these", she said. "Here's some sugar".
Swapping time: Lester offers her half of the bundle of baby leeks we bought on Saturday at the market. Unfortunately we have hit a snag - we can't get them all planted out because the rotovator has decided to die a death again. After spending hours fixing it on Saturday, which included danger of ignition of self during the welding stage of the mend, Lester had finally got it to work. Only it was getting dark, so a good project for the next morning: to get the vegplot newly made nude by the harvest of the previous day rotovated over ready to plant the leeks. But no. Said rotovator decided not to co-operate. It is a wonder he hasn't chucked it into the river out of sheer frustration. I'm sure I would have.

Sara had some bad news. She had been copped by the police this morning for not wearing a seat belt. Up at the school this was. She had been in a rush, and for only this morning had neglected to strap herself in. Screeching up to the school, she noticed loads of cars around, so had to park up aways. Leaning into her window peers the face of a policeman, to inform her that it was against the law to not wear a seat belt, and that the on-spot fine was 45 euros, but if she would like to come into the school playground she could go on a short course of road safety and avoid the fine. With thoughts of the zillion other things she ought to be getting on with, but also the thought of the fine, out she got to accompany the policeman. Loads of people in the playground, including all the children and all the children's mums and all the children's teachers.

Into a simulator of a car she had to get, hoisted up at an angle, there to be dropped backwards at 75 miles per hour to start of with, to nil, just to give her an idea of how it would feel like to be stopped suddenly. She said the feeling of whiplash didn't last for long.

She also told us of a friend of hers who drinks a lot. Got stopped by the police. Did breathalyser. Was positive. "Oh dear" said the policeman. "that can't be right, let's wait for a few minutes and try again". Which they did. She, meanwhile, is s**********ing herself with anxiety. "Have to come to the police station with me, to get another breathalyser done, they all seem to be faulty", he said as the next one also proved positive. So off to the police station she was taken, to be given yet another breathalyser, which also proved positive. "Oh dear, have a cup of coffee, perhaps that will make it work properly" the policemen said. This happened several times, and after being plied with loads of coffee, she was finally able to give a nearly clear breathalyser test and was allowed to leave, nervous and anxious because she expected to be booked at any moment. Clever policeman. Saved himself loads of paperwork, and hopefully taught her a lesson by the stress of having to give those numerous breathlysers.

Maddi arrives, Bruno's new wife. Brings with her three small tomato plants. Donations in. Girl chat. Lester gets to do two sets of cheek-kisses, bless him. I do to. It is all very friendly here in France. All leave, except me and Lester.

Out front again. Doing some re-reading on first book just back from printers. Not looking too bad. Just minor errors, no big re-writes. Am enjoying the read. Doesn't feel as if I have written it, more like I am reading someone else's writing. Strange that.

A movement catches my eye. Hurtling down the drive and disappearing round the side of the house, I momentarily catch a glimpse of a white car. Better go see what is happening. I follow the route of the car, expecting it to be parked by the truck, or the digger, or the lorry, or somewhere near the 'work-in-progress' area of the house. It wasn't. But I could just about see a man's head above the oil seed rape plants in the front field. He was on the overgrown path which is supposed to lead down to the river, but doesn't go anywhere at the moment because I have been banned from strimming down there in case of adders, (re:Lester's instructions of last weekend when he found an adder underfoot when mowing the back field)

I approach him. His car is stuck. Somehow he has managed to get it down to the end of the field where the tiles are stacked, made a sharp right and kept on going. He apparently was following my strimming trail right up to the point where I had stopped, but he didn't, he kept on going, and got tangled up in the undergrowth. Upon trying to disengage himself he had sort of slithered into the ruts at the side of the oil seed rape, and since it was only a little white Purgeot of a car, it couldn't get back out again.

The man was very dismissive of his plight. At least sixty plus, he epitomised all the characteristics of the 'elderly' here. Which is, that there is no such thing as being 'old'. He thought it quite a hoot that he had got stuck, and had apparently only wanted to see 'what was down there' when he drove his car at breakneck speed along the strimmed path. What spirit! Everywhere I go, I see people carrying a lot of years completely oblivious that they are doing so. I do not see dithery oldies anywhere.

"Lester" I call, "Can you give us a hand?". Out he comes, and with bon hommie all round, we push the little white car with the naughty spirited man inside out of the ruts, and off he goes after shaking our hands and thanking us. Bless.

Back out front for a spot of gardening, inside to catch up with stacks of washing up, finish up the lettuce left over from lunch by dipping it into the vinegar, mustard, brown sugar, salt, and olive oil mixture which I am addicted to, slice a melon up and take it out to Lester who is by now doing a spot of digging in the vegplot. Sit on some limestone blocks which are supposed to be standing on top of each other to make a gatepost but which were somehow knocked over by the builders, we eat the melon, enjoy the summer evening, and muse on our life in France. Never would we have done that in our old life.

And so, that was my day. A slow start, but a cracking good finish.

Things I have learnt today: That a day can seem double its hours in length if one keeps busy. That not to have a television gives back to one one's life.

Prayers, kisses, and Carla goes missing

So in through the gateway strolled a lady and a man. Not English. Swiss. Staying at Claudine's Chambre d'hote and visiting parents in Prechac, our nearby village. Showed them around. 'Goodbye' time. Three kisses, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek (on face, not rear end!) from her. Not from him though. "Sore mouth" he said. 'Bad teeth' I thought.

So I said a prayer for him and his sore mouth amongst other thoughts I sent out later on that day for other people.

Today: Having an after-lunch snooze. Bools barks. "Lesterrrrr" is called by someone standing near by the bedroom caravan. "Oh ***********" says Lester, putting on his trousers. All of a state of untidiness which arises from afternoon snoozes (honestly, it was only a short nap), we sort of fell out of the caravan to be met by four people all standing in a line: the Swiss lady, the Swiss man, the Swiss lady' mum, and the Swiss lady's dad. Crikey, sometimes I feel that we ought to charge an admission fee!

And so we did the usual: "Tasse de thè Anglais?" (cup of English tea) is asked by Lester, and "Would you like to have a look round" from me. It's like giving people the grand tour and providing refreshments all in.

So we all sat in a cosy group outside in the courtyard: no room in the awning. All in French, with the odd English word thrown in by the Swiss man, conversation was endeavoured. It was slow. But we did bonhommie, because that is the sort of people we are.

It started raining. Rushed to get the washing off the line. Knicker and bra wash today. Had to put these items of frippery on the inside of my rotary clothes line to hide them away from male view, then surrounding them by all the rest of the washing. Didn't want the builders to get tangled up with bra straps as they walked to and fro with their wheel barrows of cement.

Heard footstepts behind me. Swiss man was straight into the centre of the washing. Waving his hands he asked a question. I think it was about what to do about the pegs. One hand was full of my underwear, the other full of pegs. I kept on grabbing the rest of my underwear before he could. It was bit of a race. To divert his attention I ask about his mouth, "Votre bouche, c'est OK maintenant". "Yes", he said. 'I said a prayer to help with your pain', I said, but in broken English/French and with suitable gestures. I just thought it was a nice thing to say. Washing now all off line. Underwear all tucked discreetly away from view.

It stopped raining. Drat. Back to conversation. Quite interesting now. Apparently Swiss lady's parents knew our house in days gone by. They gave us our address in Prechac, with instructions to "Come and visit." So more people we know in the area.

Sara appears in the gateway. "Carla's gone missing". I get up and go to her. Carla is the Vietnamese pot belly pig who is adorable. Likes her tummy scratched and will roll over obligingly if anyone looks like they might give her a tickle on her tum. Also is rampantly in need of a male boar, and frequently tries to get buckets, brooms, even donkeys, to do her a service. Bless.

This is not good news. It starts raining harder. Everyone gets up to leave. Three kisses, left, right, left from Swiss lady, so this must be the International format so do the same with Swiss lady's parents. Hear Lester apologising profusely to Swiss man. Apparently he had done the three kisses with Swiss lady's mum and nearly been decked by Swiss lady's dad. I say goodbye to Swiss man. Sara can talk French. He says to her that he doesn't like prayers, and makes a wrenching motion with his hands. I say I do. They all leave.

Off down to Sara's with Bools, thinking that perhaps he might be able to sniff Carla out. Been an hour or so since Sara popped in. Good news. Carla back. Bad news. She is collapsed in the middle of a small paddock. Oh dear. Go over and give her a pat. She gets up and crawls underneath some low hanging conifers. I crawl in after her. Sara crawls in beside me. Carla is twitching. Feels cold. Sara reverses out and go gets a blanket. Wrap blanket round Carla. Give her a bit of a hug. Reverse out after fifteen minutes or so.

Coffee in Sara's kitchen. Girl chat. Vet arrives. Sara and Vet crawl into confer thicket. Bums in air. 'Did my bum look like that?' I think to myself. No matter. Out they come. "Measles", Carla has measles apparently. In goes the vet again. Out comes Carla. Squealing. Thermometers can apparently get one moving if one is stuck up one's rear end. Vet comes out. Goes out to car. Carla now collapsed in a heap in the middle of the paddock again. Vet comes back with syringe.

Time to go. Last I saw of Carla was that she was heading back under the confers again to get out of the way of the syringe.

Things I have learnt today: That sometimes International faux pas can inadvertently happen, but never mind, just smile and carry on dishing out bonhommie. That it is a nice to help a friend out when her much loved animal is sick and she is so worried that she needs someone else to look after the animal for a bit while she goes to call the Vet. That, with relief, Lester has ordered front gates so that they can be locked while we are having afternoon snoozes or when we are all out of bonhommie.

Meanwhile:



And the third apex to the house is prepped.











And the floor to the halfbarn is cemented.

And now I am off to have a douche in the 'shower'. Am feeling all of a muck after crawling about under the conifers. But worth it to give a bit of a luvvy to a sick little piggy who went missing but is now found.

The Pow Wow

No builders for the last three weeks = one irate Hubs. He finally blew his gasket on Monday evening. Et Voila! Dani (our builder) appeared yesterday to book us in for a Pow Wow this morning. Attending Pow Wow: 10. Dani, Jean-Louis (his bruv), Stephan, the electrician, the roofer, sundry other male workers, Hubs and me. The ration was two English to eight Spanish / French. Did not bode well for a smooth Pow Wow meet. But possible probs diverted by Pow Wow member number ten: James. Whose ability to act as a go-between made the Pow Wow meet do-able for its multi-national members.

Decisions made at Pow Wow: Electrical wiring to be put in under floor in half barn before the pouring of the concrete. Good job it hadn't been done already. Last Pow Wow result a few weeks ago decided electrics were to go in a trough round the edge. "Oh no" said the electrician, or rather "Ce n'est pas possible" (because he is French and doesn't do English). Electrics go under floor. So hose pipes have to be laid to carry the cables. Apparently, when the cables are to be connected they are pushed through the hose pipes. As I was saying to Denise over at Much Malarkey Manor today, I see probs ahead with that. Feeding a cable through a pipe for several metres and it not snagging somewhere en route feels like a stressful exercise to me. I have memories of feeding elastic through waistbands, which is theoretically the same process, and most times there were probs. Perhaps the ton of concrete lying on top of the pipes will hold them rigid enough for the cables to be pushed through successfully. Maybe this is something I shouldn't involve my head with.

Guttering: To be put all round, apart from the sides and front apex of the roof. For this the roofer received my blessing. Hubs had been on a mission to have the front of the roof overhang the house. I think this would make the house look like it was frowning. There has been much debate in the Coe household about this. But: decision made. Roofer took control. No overhang. But guttering. Good solution. Rain water can be collected, rain splash down the front walls can be avoided, and the house can keep on looking like she is smiling.

Back Wall: Which is non-existant. Much debate with Dani and Hubs about steel tie-in bars to hold the wall together. When it gets re-built. Result: it was going to be done anyway. Breakdown of French / English translation on last Pow Wow.

Small Pow Wow in office. Members present: Dani, Hubs, Me and James. Under discussion: money. Result: Good. All being well, it looks like the roof is not going to cost a huge amount more than the original price quoted by Dani, despite some add-ons by Hubs. Half barn is paid for.

Pow Wow concluded. All on good terms. Cup of tea all round. Lots of bon hommie. Estimate for conclusion for roof: two months. Concrete to go down on floor tomorrow. This is providing the weather does not stuff up the project.

Meteo weather forecast for our area: Storms tonight, rain tomorrow, and then next day, and the next, then some sun, then some more rain, etc.

Things I have learnt today: That a female person can lend calmness to male unrest and argument. That a cup of tea at the right time can divert all manner of possible negative outcomes to Pow Wow's. That one has to have a nap in the afternoon after the busy-ness of a Pow Wow. That one must not mind if one's Hubs is out of sorts with the World because he is trying to get a roof on his house and he hasn't got enough language skills to make himself understood with the men who are going to get it done. That it is alright to hope that things will be cracking on a pace now. But that it is alright if there is a break in the pace while the heavens open and soak the ground. After all, it means I can dig, plant more seeds, and not have to water.

Head Gardener Hubs taking his lawn mower for a walk after having just sharpened the blades of the machine. Bless.

Rolling raindrops

"Vera", yelled Lester, "Come and have a look at our guttering. See if its working. It's raining. Come on."

"*******" and other assorted expletives were flung about in the air as I uncoiled myself from my computer chair, and duly followed Hubs, grabbing my umbrella along the way because it was tipping down with rain. Ah, that dear umbrella, once so pristine, now much battered about having accompanied me through various wetnesses.

Yet it still just about works!





Lester testing that the water was coming through the guttering in a goodly flow. Yes, it was. And plans to build a concrete tank to catch the water before it disappears into the earth are spouting forth from him.

My plan is a plain plastic tub. I always seem to go for more simpler plans. Like Hubs's plan for the well out front. Need to get the water up so the plants can be watered for free. So Hubs's plan is for an electic pump and a huge circular water container which can also catch the downwater from the tall barn when it eventually gets its roof. I favour a hand pump. A bit of arm action followed hopefully by a bit of a squirt of water straight into the watering can. No electricity needed therefore carbon footprint balanced, and will give good exercise to my upper arms which tend to flap about with extraneous flesh when I wave them up and down too fast. Like wings.


And a quick trip into the veg plot to see how things are doing after the lunch time inspection a couple of hours previously. We have lots of inspections during the day. Sometimes Hubs. Sometimes me. Sometimes all three of us together. One way or another, it gets a lot of inspections. We are learning to watch the plants grow, which they are doing at a cracking pace at the moment.

On the way back, into the half barn, to check the roof is not leaking. I kept my umbrella up out of habit. I am not used to being in the house without getting dripped on. It has dripped from the day we arrived. Or did. Now, no longer. We even watched the raindrops rolling themselves down the velux windows in the roof. I think that will become a past-time for rainy days in the future, when we have moved in.


Things I have learnt today: I don't need an umbrella in the half barn anymore. It is better to get the letter written to the French water company Veolia on the day it arrives rather than letting it sit on my desk for days, the attached worry-factor about having to write an official letter in French not being worth the tension it produced. A day off from having the builders here re-organises the peacefulness of Labartere.

Holay: Le petit toit est fini!

And nous avons en autre probleme: Assuming that the bed isn't rotten, will it fit into the end of the half barn. And do we put plaster board on the walls or do we start the long process of filling in the walls the same as we did in the office. Shouldn't be too long a job, as nowhere near as many holes and up-and-down bits, and no spiders to cope with, plus no bones stuck in the walls, or the likelihood of discovering something squashed. And, presuming our leather settees are still unrotted, how am I going to arrange them...like this, or like that. And then there is the dining room table. Is there going to be room for it, if so, should it go lengthways or sideways. By the door (when there is a door) or in the middle of the space.

And so we have apparently gravitated to the next stage of our life here, which is how are going to make the halfbarn our home. Today we switched track: from being caravaners, to being nearly-home-owners. The switch was tangible.

And the roof on the half barn looks great, very elegant, very natural, and very discrete. One of the things we are careful of, is being too showy. We don't want to come across as being 'rich English', which we aren't, but might be thought of as being to our French neighours, one of whom, bless her, brought round loads of plants to put in the front garden. She waves every time she passes. Everyone does. It makes us feel part of the community.

And so the half barn roof is done. Now a few days off from the roofers,- next week now before we see them again. It will give us a break to catch up with ourselves. Of late, not a day goes past without there being a question to find an answer to. Not easy when the question is spoken in French and we don't have the foggiest idea of what is being asked. The simple thing of the floor in the half barn, and the possible opening for a wood burning fire have caused no end of problems.

And the complete hole in the wall. Down it has all come. Lester thinks we should knock the other wall down as well. It will not be done. As in the way of the Suffragete (sorry about the spelling, no time to hunt down the right one) movement, I will personally use any means I can to stop any would-be demolition man from doing so. It is not a good idea to think about putting a super-duper greenhouse there. It is my indoor winter garden area, providing funds come in to put that roof back on again. On this argument I will win the day. Am going to have a look on the Internet (You-Tube is good for this) to see how I can tie myself to the wall, as in the manner of a trainee Suffragete.

I am even hoping that in time I can have a tall church-like window put in the wall. Of course, the wall will have to be rebuilt first. At the moment it is a 'fresh-air' wall.

No donkey today. Sun was shining. Under instructions from the Universe, I edited five chapters of The Psychic Toolbox today, and did a grammar-check on it. 'No writing tomorrow', I have been told, but then it is to shipped over the Internet to Lulu for a Pdf conversion. Then downloaded back to me for a complete read-through, and probable re-write of chunks of it. Oh the joys of writing!

So swinging my finger over to the Internet button so I can research the Suffragette movement and see if I can pick up any hints or tips of a preventative nature, I wish you au revoir pour ce momente.

Yippee! Dry Space!

Dry Space! We have dry space! The roofers, bless them, have put a spurt on this week, and from looking like it was going to be weeks before they got up to any part of the roof, it has happened! Et voila! The roof timbers have been repaired. The lining has been put on, and the battens nailed on to fix it down.
Their expertise was put to the test by a might big breeze of a wind, which did no damage apart from knocking over our one remaining cabbage-looking plant. Lester says it isn't a cabbage but something else, although he isn't clear what that 'something else' is! Anyway, I don't think we will have the opportunity to find out, judging by the sorry looking state the plant is now in.


And ........................ wait for it! Tumdetumderah! And again: Tumdetumderah!
AND AGAIN! lOUDER! TUMDETUMDERAH!

And here be the very first new, brand-new, roof tile going onto Labartere.



And yet MORE tiles! Loads of them!




And I am going to close now, so you can have a pause to celebrate with us!