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 Pennys 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
