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  • Stargazing

    14 August 2007,

    Sunday was a beautiful warm, lazy day. We worked outside assembling a table we bought for our new terrace three years ago and then wandered off to look at a clearance sale of oriental rugs. We do like them so. Then we heard an item of news on the radio about shooting stars – the Perseid meteor shower in fact, so, as the other half was watching the football, I went out on to the new terrace. Rapidly I decided that I could not take the neck ache, so dragged a sunbed across and luxuriated in the soft night.

    We are in a quiet area; although there is a fairly busy local road nearby, the French do not believe in scattering light unnecessarily over the countryside, so I was able to watch a glorious multitoned navy sky, resembling a deep, winter sea.

    I am a stargazing virgin; although I know one or two basic constellations and do recognise The Milky Way, I had not realised how many aeroplanes fly over us at night, nor had I realised how rapidly the appearance of the sky changed. It was spectacularly clear at first, then patches of pearly cloud appeared, within ten minutes covering half the sky. This swirled and cleared fairly quickly.

    I did not then know in which direction to look, nor at what time was the peak, so was lucky to see about 10 over a period of about an hour and a half. I was surprised to see them shooting apparently horizontally, not apparently dropping to the ground, and so silently – obvious maybe, but I somehow expected a whoosh!

    Late to bed, it was with a feeling of elation.

  • Well, Well, Well, Brocante

    Well, Well, Well – brocante

    Last Sunday Grahame tried to water the garden and found that no water was connected to the outside pipe. He turned off the well water, turned on the mains, and watered the garden, reversing the procedure afterwards.

    I then sent an email to Boss plumber to ask if they could attach the high garden tap and also connect all water outlets via the well. To our astonishment, on Monday he turned up before 11 am to assess the situation. I emphasised that Lionel had done well and that Pascal would know where the pipe runs were. He shot off saying that someone would turn up by the end of the week.

    Around 2.40 Pascal and Lionel turned up (the A team, Pascal is bright, does everything at a run; Lionel is the electronics specialist, they both understand modern systems far better than Boss who is fine about old fashioned plumbing, but from whom you would never buy a second hand car!), rushed around examining pipe runs; Lionel assured us that the tap was attached to the well and turned a lever that was behind the boiler – that opened the supply to the first tap. He said we must never touch that tap – I emphasised that we had not! They then attached the hose to the taps to trace the water back, dug a channel alongside the concrete path to add a piece of pipe; Pascal was attacked by Penny’s aloe vera, and, by 4.10 had put both other garden taps in full working order. Lionel told us that we must clothe them really well against frost before winter begins.

    About 5.25 I went to the loo, found there was no water in any taps – after talk with Lionel over the phone, and following various manoeuvres (checking the pressure gauge, looking in the well – the water was below the pump level, turning well water off, town water on,) we discovered the leak, in the garden, bubbling up out of the ground between the house and the farther, lower tap….. We shut off the mains water for the evening; someone would come on the morrow.

    On Tuesday we had just got up when Pascal arrived with Didier (nice, but not an A team player); they started work immediately, dug comprehensively, removing several weeds as they did so (this time Pascal was attacked by a thistle) and found a split in the pipe which had been crudely repaired with a ring of old cream pipe.. This they replaced, but still it leaked. Pascal fiddled with it and pronounced the repair sound. He put in a stake as a marker for any future problems.

    They left the mains connected as the well has not yet replenished itself. We wished them good byes hoping that we would not need to see them yet awhile! At the moment we could do with some of that rain you have recently had in England.

    So, next stage terrace, then, if we still have funds, get the hole we had dug a year ago turned into a big pond. On Thursday the boss of a new – to us – business turned up. Magalie had told us he was Turkish, so the conversation turned out a bit oddly, when I said I was glad he spoke French – he was actually Moroccan – and, unlike the builders who worked on the house, he thinks he can start on our terrace within the next week or two.

    So, on Friday we spent much of the time at the stone suppliers sorting out supplementary materials for the terrace, which now looks as though it really will go ahead in the next ten days or so. Having had 48 m² of 50 x 50 cm flags delivered 4 days ago, we then found out that we need also retaining kerb stones (or – Krebstones as consistently translated in the catalogue – shades of Bond!) and extra flags instead of behind the house. We also thought we would lose too much by having the terrace ramped than by having steps at the end so had to order stones for them as well. (We will have a wooden ramp made for our friends in wheelchairs.)

    A tip for anyone who moves abroad: do not bring everything with you! Be selective! After so much sorting, we had crates full of junk that we really do not need, so, today we turned up at a little village about 12 miles away for their annual brocante (car boot sale). This is often the main fete and fund raising occasion for each village. Here the brocante is huge; there are far more stalls than houses in the village. Fortunately the weather was perfect, pleasantly middling; we could have started at 5 am, but preferred to arrive about 7.30. It was already in full swing and at first the attendants could not find our pitch. The organiser ticked them off for not marking our spot on the plan, but then, as by magic, we were placed.

    Lots of banter, and cheerful explanations to potential buyers, worked quite well; given that our stock was all priced under 5 euros, (except a wash basin at 15 which sadly did not go this time) many for only a few centimes, we were delighted to make over 90 euros. (We actually managed to avoid buying anything except a plant that enticed Grahame, so that is now added to the motley array in the courtyard awaiting their final planning positions.)

    The key factor: we have reduced about half our surplus by volume, so maybe we will try again elsewhere in a few weeks.

    One lovely moment, a mother and daughters came up to us with the usual,
    “We thought you were Father Christmas!” Grahame assured the two little girls, eight and three, that he was – but on holiday. A couple of hours later, the elder returned and wove her way determinedly through the stalls to give him a smacking big goodbye kiss, followed by little sister. Their brother – about 5 – not there at the first encounter, was less sure and kept his distance.

    I hope the appalling weather has not been too bad for you

  • The Eureka Moment

    I wrote this 10 days ago.

    No, we have not disappeared, just been very busy. I counted; there were, I think, 18 days in June when we had either rehearsals or concerts. This last week there have been end of year shared picnics, very common here. I spent a week of afternoons in a weaving workshop whilst Grahame worked in the house or garden.

    We are ALMOST at the Eureka moment – we have it – the house itself is now finished!!! That is to say, as far as outside workers are concerned. We still have a fair bit of titivating to do and furniture, equipment and ornaments to manoeuvre . On July 4th, yes, Independence Day, a pair of electricians put in the final touches, following the plumber, Lionel, who had spent 3 days connecting the gas hob and the pump for the well. We are now actually using our own well water.

    It was tested over a year ago when the plumber told me to take a sample of water from the well, which at that time was just a hole in the floor, 12 metres deep! I blenched and pointed out that I am not good with heights – or depths! He sent a young, slim Pascal, who dangled over the edge wielding a PLASTIC bottle on the end of a cord. I expected it to float, but to my surprise, he filled it. A couple of days later we received the lab report – it is slightly better than the mains water, as it is lower in phosphates and slightly softer.

    Last Thursday we had to go out for a bit and we returned to find the18 year old apprentice, Jerôme, down the well wearing no harness or any other device. They had been carrying out various procedures and had put a bar across the well at floor level. They told me that there were pre-cut slots for the bar but still I have no idea how they put it in position. Subsequently, Jerôme was shimmying around, on, across and under the bar! The carpenter turned up and declared that he would not shin up and down the well! Late on Friday Lionel left to go to his children’s end of term show having installed the pump, set it to use the well water, updated the softener and replaced a shower head all after a panic call from his wife – I was saying,
    “You must go now; they need you!”

    In the garden Grahame has made a fourth raised vegetable bed. He had made three sides of large building stones – each needs to be lugged on a trolley. Through our neighbours we had found M. Pelletan who has used his band saw to prune several trees and clear a lot of ivy off our tunnel – now more sinister than bower! He called to make sure that we were happy with the load of soil he had asked a contact to deliver a couple of days earlier. He told me that he would return around the end of July as he is taking his month’s holiday to work on the harvest. Grahame worked on the new potager, spreading out the three king size mole hills then closed the fourth side with a large wooden beam.

    No one here has ever known a summer like this: as in Britain, we have had a very wet June and have spent little time in the garden. Outside the supermarket, a group of women, all in macs, gossiped as one pointed aloft and said, with heavy irony “This wonderful weather!”

    It has had some unexpected effects; the strawberries and potatoes love it, and we can’t cut the keep up with the courgettes, but the tomatoes hate it, many are black, although the cherry ones are ok. I have never seen so many poppies anywhere. They are thick along the railway banks, beside the roads, in clusters in fields and gardens. We tried to start a flowering meadow on our drainage plateau before we went to England in March, but when we returned in a very hot April, we did not dare plant any more seeds. However, with the about turn in May, we cautiously continued planting other parts and they are doing really well, and huge clumps of poppies cover the meadow. The cornflowers, Californian poppies, vetch and clusters of plantains give variety. Along the future terrace space there are masses of scarlet pimpernels which have followed the forget-me-nots and speedwell.

    This year too, more than ever before, many other organisations have planted flowering meadows, some huge, which catch you quite unawares. Each has its own quality. A great swathe of big pink and white flowers near a major roundabout is labelled,

    “This flowering space has been planted by xxx for your enjoyment. Please respect it.” Then yesterday we went for the first time to a shop on a trading estate, and as we parked I realised that I was looking at a huge field, probably to be developed in a year or so, entirely bordered by cornflowers – pale pink, lilac, white, purple, but above all the classic blue. It was stunning. Here many different authorities seem to be really aware of the disappearance of native plants; there was a long article in Sud-Ouest, a regional newspaper, about the endangered state of the cornflower.

    Inside, I reupholstered four chairs, two of which had been repaired by Viviane, then decided to tackle the top coats of four chairs which I reseated with yellow last year. They had never been tight enough, so I undid them to the calico and heaved tightly, reset the top covers and carefully enamelled the heads of tacks in all eight chairs.

    The next day, I asked Grahame to hang the fish mobile over the well and was not prepared for the mess he got into trying to untangle it. He undid all the yellow ribbons which were the fundamental fixtures controlling the spacing of four suspension cross rods and about 28 fish! In the end I managed to undo the tangles whilst our son was on the phone, at which moment Grahame leaned back and broke the back of the chair which Viviane had repaired and of which I had only just completed the reupholstery! The atmosphere was tense for an hour or so!

    We started working out where to put the kitchen items, rearrange the utility room/conservatory and generally tidy up. Many things had been parked in the salon.

    Everything is slipping into place very neatly. I have even managed to find homes for almost all the rugs. The only placement we are not too keen on is the column of 2 filing cabinets in the window of the conservatory and there is a huge pile on the salon table of stuff which needs to go into the cellier (store room – ours is adjoining, some are outbuildings). Grahame says it is not going through until he has sorted out the cave and cellier; that involves heavy lifting of stone blocks.

    I just hope it is done within the next ten days or so; we have friends coming to supper on Friday week……

  • Sunflower

    Well, here I start, and find that I have managed to begin with a spelling mistake! Brilliant isn't it? I am really fussy about spelling and grammar - for me anyway - and find I had pushed the damn button just seconds before I proof read it, so it will be there to haunt me.

    Call it a salutary lesson: my family will tell me that pride comes before a fall.

    Who or what am I? Well after a visit to France many years ago, at the age of 15, I had always wanted to live here. It was not possible at the time; I would have had to redo all my studies, in a foreign language, and pay for them and obtain a work permit....

    Now it seems, centuries later, I have achieved it. Nearly four years ago we moved to Charente Maritime and after a lot of work the house itself is now just about finished.

    I did try to start a blog about this two years ago, but did not manage to access it again, so lets see if this second attempt works!
    Tell me if you have managed to read it - if so I will continue soon.

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