Yesterday wasn't a good day. The usual lack of information and organisation brought yet another day of chaos and long faces among us in reception. I thought it couldn't get any worse and headed for the restaurant of the hotel for my dinner break. The chef always cooks something juicy and meaty, and his wife often bakes something mouth-watering for dessert. But to crown this shitty day the worst ever since my starting at the hotel, head cheese was waiting for me on the table. I could see something with that was wrong the moment I laid eyes on it. It looked like cat food way past its sell by date. I asked what it was and stopped listening after "pig's head". Fortunately his wife came through for me with clafoutis and chocolate mousse. But I was starving throughout my shift.
On the plus side I started to see the house in my mind's eye. I began to appreciate the space, to visualise it, to see light and colors. It stopped being this demanding, derelict monster and has revealed itself to me. And the same goes for the garden and the playground. I can spend a long time in the house, in the corridors or in the bedrooms, or on the steps that lead to the garden, looking and seeing. It's a lovely feeling. It's still big and overwhelming, don't get me wrong, but it's home, our future, and it looks beautiful.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
23 . wildlife update
I think I should give you an update on the wildlife as it has become so centre stage on this blog.
Lazarus unfortunately was put down by the vet, the poor thing was in too sorry a state to be able to recover and survive. I hated being there, in the vet's examination room, and even more being there while he was injecting Lazarus with the lethal dose of pink fluid. I felt awful for the next couple of days after that, remembering how I had found this little hedgehog beautiful, with its plumped padded paws.
As for the swarm of bees that elected residence in the chimney, I spent about a week in complete denial and preferred to ignore the problem, secretly praying for that collapse syndrome or whatever afflicts the beehives the world over. But hell no, no such luck for me. After I found about a dozen, everyday, in the ground floor bedroom and bathroom, and being reduced to a nervous wreck with bees flying around every time I showered (I’ve never been stung you see) I could no longer dodge the issue. And Dave wouldn’t let me either, his last message when we were discussing a plan of attack I tried my best to avoid was “just do it”. I could sense the tone.
As for the swarm of bees that elected residence in the chimney, I spent about a week in complete denial and preferred to ignore the problem, secretly praying for that collapse syndrome or whatever afflicts the beehives the world over. But hell no, no such luck for me. After I found about a dozen, everyday, in the ground floor bedroom and bathroom, and being reduced to a nervous wreck with bees flying around every time I showered (I’ve never been stung you see) I could no longer dodge the issue. And Dave wouldn’t let me either, his last message when we were discussing a plan of attack I tried my best to avoid was “just do it”. I could sense the tone.
So I put my lovely pink Marigold gloves, put the fumigating bomb in the chimney, blocked the hole and ran out. I stood for a while outside and after a few minutes some escaped flying in all directions. Haven’t seen them since.
And we have new squatters. The classrooms, and occasionally the house, are being used by swallows as their own private M25 motorway. I love listening to them singing.
And to finish on the wildlife of our village, I have encountered a new threat to my nervous system: cats. There are two of them that are playing chicken every time I come back from work around one in the morning. It’s like they’re waiting for me, and when they see my car they tell one another: “Look mate, I’m gonna make him shit his pants” before throwing themselves in front of the car. I am now entering the village in first gear in heightened state of paranoia.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
22. Lazarus and the thunderstorm
Any fears my friends had about me getting bored in the countryside were unfounded. It seems the wildlife and the locals have taken upon themselves to keep me entertained no matter what.
My day started rather well yesterday, I went quite nervously to a job interview, and was offered the job there and then. I came back to the school somewhat elated in the knowledge that Fox would now soon be able to join me. I got changed and then went to the outside urinals for a wee. There I noticed some big black loud flies, coming out from a hole where a water pipe stuck out. I was a bit worried (flies = magots =rotten flesh = dead animal) so I had a look. It was quite dark but sure enough, in a corner was a hedgehog. I poked it with a stick and got no reaction. Dead. I cursed Fox, who uncovered the hole and cleared it in the first place, leading to the unfortunate demise of this little animal. It must have fallen in the hole and was unable to get out. His fate had been sealed. And now I had to clean the mess before more flies and the stench of decomposed animal carcass set in.
But first I had a meeting with a woman from the tourist board to talk about possible grants for B&B's, the poor little creature wasn't going anywhere anyway. And in all honesty, I was in no hurry to deal with it.
Four hours later, I couldn't dodge the issue anymore. I armed myself with a shovel and two small brooms and headed for the hole. I thought I would pick up the hedgehog with the brooms, put the corpse on the shovel and then head for the back garden where I would toss it over the hedge in the adjacent field, far, far away from the house and the caravan. With wimpering sounds, I started. But the little animal, even dead, wouldn't make my gruesome task any easier. It was stuck. Its head was lodged in a small opening where it had tried to escape. Cursing Fox again, I realised I would have to touch the bloody thing, to grab it and dislodge it. I went to fetch some rags in the cellier and then braced myself for the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome me. I inhaled deeply, held my breath and went for it. I grabbed the hedgehog and the little fucker sprung to life. I screamed my usual girlish scream, jumped to my feet and backed right off.
It was no longer a question of playing "toss the dead hedgehog" but a rescue party. I took me 40 minutes to get it out. I had to break and bend the pipe (I was being very butch then and redeemed myself for my girlish screams) in order to get better access and dig underneath and then around it to obtain a better grip. The poor thing was in a sorry state, not too responsive. I fetched an unopened Round Up box that I knew contained a pipette, still holding it in my left hand, filled it with water and dropped some in his mouth. It struggled a bit, quite weakly. I got more rags and a carton box and settled it in there. I put some pâté in there too, with some water, covered the box and left poor Lazarus to recover.
You would think that this had been enough entertainment for a day, but mother nature thought otherwise and treated me with a show of her own. It started with constant lightning above the clouds, the sky looked like a nightclub (see videos below). The wind became stronger and things started to fly outside. I looked out to check on Lazarus and the cover of the cardboard box had been blown off. I took him inside with me and covered it again. The ground shaked each time the thunder rumbled and the lights in the caravan kept flickering. I felt like Dorothy, about to take to the sky, with a hedgehog in a sorry state instead of Toto. It started to pour down and the water crept all the way to the caravan's step. I didn't dare go to bed until the rain eased off, which was quite late.
Lazarus seems to have recover, I heard him move in his box during the night and this morning. I'll call a vet for advice and will release him tonight in the garden. Who said countryside living was boring?
Sunday, 10 May 2009
21. it's a jungle out there!
Since experiencing the countryside of France I think we have seen more wildlife in one year than all the time I have spent in Britain. Bees in the chimney, bats in cellar (now rediscovered in the loft), beautiful sparrowhawks taking flight over fields, mummified cats under the floorboards, a cheeky little robin flitting around the forecourt and a house full of flies. Our friends have had spiny poisonous caterpillars following each other tail to tail, looking exotic and invitingly tactile. We may have moles in the garden and had giant hornets swooping through the windows. While Seb was driving back from his mothers, he was nearly attacked by such a deadly looking creature, and these things look evil, all yellow and black and stingy.
We have seen deer in the veils of morning mists, pretty red squirrels gathering breakfast and felt the hoary breath of a bison.....ok now I'm exaggerating, but you get the picture. But it's a wonderful thing to become reacquainted with nature again. The closest I get to it in London are the skinny foxes I see at three in morning around Stoke Newington when I come back from work, oh and the pigeons.
But living in France you also acquire animals, chickens, goats, pigs, dogs, cats, bees, fish ( I would love some Koi carp) and other farmyard stock. And we are both looking forward to having a puppy, something we would not be able to care for adequately in London because of space, time and commitment to caring for another living thing. So whether invited or uninvited we wholly appreciate this addition to our day and something to be continually discovered.
We have seen deer in the veils of morning mists, pretty red squirrels gathering breakfast and felt the hoary breath of a bison.....ok now I'm exaggerating, but you get the picture. But it's a wonderful thing to become reacquainted with nature again. The closest I get to it in London are the skinny foxes I see at three in morning around Stoke Newington when I come back from work, oh and the pigeons.
But living in France you also acquire animals, chickens, goats, pigs, dogs, cats, bees, fish ( I would love some Koi carp) and other farmyard stock. And we are both looking forward to having a puppy, something we would not be able to care for adequately in London because of space, time and commitment to caring for another living thing. So whether invited or uninvited we wholly appreciate this addition to our day and something to be continually discovered.
20. bees, bat and beetle
I was finally driving home after a long week travelling. I first went from London to my dad's, then to Cathy & Dave's from there before heading to my mum's for a couple of days, driving a total of 1500 km in one week. It felt strange to criss-cross France without my co-pilot, it wasn't as beautiful as it usually is when we travel together. That's the beauty of my husband, he makes everything wonderful. You can stop putting your fingers down your throat, I'm done. So there. A jealous lot you are.
Anyway, I was thinking about this when driving down a country track the sat nav has chosen to take (I swear, this thing must have a fetish for dirt tracks or a serious phobia of tarmac) I spotted a red squirrel hopping along. Having learned from my mistakes and now knowing that animals are sometimes suicidal and throw themselves in front of passing cars (see post 15), I slowed right down until it disappeared in the grass. Five minutes later, a doe came in view and she too quickly disappeared. For a brief moment I felt like Sleeping Beauty in Disney's cartoon (and tired as I was, I was worthy of the name, at least the first bit).
That is, until, the mother of all hornets was sucked in from God knows where and came crashing against me. It was flying furiously from left to right, and from my face to the windscreen. I pressed my head against the headrest as far back as it would allow, breaking hard, all the while shouting "fuck!!! fuck!!! fuck!!!" through my clenched jaws until I came to a stop. It finally went out the window. If my knickers had turned brown at that point I wouldn't have been surprised. Looking back it's a miracle they didn't!
So after all that, the enormous beetle I saw this morning trying to get into the caravan, was nothing. I quickly named it Beetlejuice. I'm allowed to give names to mini-beasts, I live alone in a caravan for God sake. I scoop it up (with a piece of cardboard, I'm not that brave yet) and put it away from the house. But the really great surprise was when I reached the toilets. I was there doing my business when I saw, looking up, something dangling from underneath the stairs (the loos are under the staircase). It took me just a second to recognise it was a bat. It started to sway, which means it was waking up, so I switched off the light and quickly left, quietly. I went to fetch my camera in the caravan but by the time I came back it had gone, probably to the cellar. I was very happy of its return.
Less pleasing to have around are my new squatters. Last week, when Dave and I dropped the washing machine off my dad gave for the school, we were having our sandwiches underneath the préau, when we heard a loud buzzing. We came out into the playground to see a huge swarm hovering above the classrooms, slowly rising to the roof of the house. We follow it from the ground and saw it, pardon the pun, make a beeline for a chimney. Within minutes it was covered with bees. They all went in. Dave, the bravest of us two, having been in the countryside for a lot longer, went to check if they were coming out of the fireplaces but luckily they were closed. So now I'll have to call the Fire Brigade to get rid of them, which is a shame for bees are disappearing at an alarming rate and Fox, if he had been here and ready for them, would have given them a home and looked after them.
Anyway, I was thinking about this when driving down a country track the sat nav has chosen to take (I swear, this thing must have a fetish for dirt tracks or a serious phobia of tarmac) I spotted a red squirrel hopping along. Having learned from my mistakes and now knowing that animals are sometimes suicidal and throw themselves in front of passing cars (see post 15), I slowed right down until it disappeared in the grass. Five minutes later, a doe came in view and she too quickly disappeared. For a brief moment I felt like Sleeping Beauty in Disney's cartoon (and tired as I was, I was worthy of the name, at least the first bit).
That is, until, the mother of all hornets was sucked in from God knows where and came crashing against me. It was flying furiously from left to right, and from my face to the windscreen. I pressed my head against the headrest as far back as it would allow, breaking hard, all the while shouting "fuck!!! fuck!!! fuck!!!" through my clenched jaws until I came to a stop. It finally went out the window. If my knickers had turned brown at that point I wouldn't have been surprised. Looking back it's a miracle they didn't!
So after all that, the enormous beetle I saw this morning trying to get into the caravan, was nothing. I quickly named it Beetlejuice. I'm allowed to give names to mini-beasts, I live alone in a caravan for God sake. I scoop it up (with a piece of cardboard, I'm not that brave yet) and put it away from the house. But the really great surprise was when I reached the toilets. I was there doing my business when I saw, looking up, something dangling from underneath the stairs (the loos are under the staircase). It took me just a second to recognise it was a bat. It started to sway, which means it was waking up, so I switched off the light and quickly left, quietly. I went to fetch my camera in the caravan but by the time I came back it had gone, probably to the cellar. I was very happy of its return.
Less pleasing to have around are my new squatters. Last week, when Dave and I dropped the washing machine off my dad gave for the school, we were having our sandwiches underneath the préau, when we heard a loud buzzing. We came out into the playground to see a huge swarm hovering above the classrooms, slowly rising to the roof of the house. We follow it from the ground and saw it, pardon the pun, make a beeline for a chimney. Within minutes it was covered with bees. They all went in. Dave, the bravest of us two, having been in the countryside for a lot longer, went to check if they were coming out of the fireplaces but luckily they were closed. So now I'll have to call the Fire Brigade to get rid of them, which is a shame for bees are disappearing at an alarming rate and Fox, if he had been here and ready for them, would have given them a home and looked after them.
Friday, 8 May 2009
19. headway and honey
Had a text from Seb yesterday. He had gone to the house and we had bees, yippee! But they're in the chimney, not so yippee. So I've wanted to keep bees for a while now and was wondering how I might get my hands on some and find they make an uninvited visit, such is nature. So now, ironically, we have to get rid of them. I was trying to find out on the internet what the process is in France, and I think the Pompiers (Fire Brigade) come round and sort it. Which is a bit of a shame as I would love to have started my bee husbandry with a swarm arriving right on the doorstep.
He also reported that the dreaded Japanese Knotweed seems to be looking rather sickly. Good! We're making headway with that damned plant. Thank god for agent orange. Hopefully it will be sufficiently weakened for us to continue our onslaught and erase it from the garden and start planting pretty things that don't strangle the life out of other shrubs. I'll put the flamethrower away for now.
He also reported that the dreaded Japanese Knotweed seems to be looking rather sickly. Good! We're making headway with that damned plant. Thank god for agent orange. Hopefully it will be sufficiently weakened for us to continue our onslaught and erase it from the garden and start planting pretty things that don't strangle the life out of other shrubs. I'll put the flamethrower away for now.
18. sat nav love
So Sunday finally comes. The day Sebastien leaves for France. We got up early and kept ourselves busy and before you knew it 11am arrived and it was time to part. I think we were both being brave for each other and I was feeling a lot more teary than I thought. After he left I didn't quite know what to do and wasn't feeling particularly sociable so I popped on a film I knew would be a bit of a crier and bawled my eyes out, ha ha. But I felt much better after. I was keeping an eye on the eye waiting for the text to confirm that he had arrived at Papa's safe and sound.
One of the things that reassured me about Sebastien traveling on his own was that Stephan (Seb's best friend) and I had bought him an early birthday present, a Sat Nav. His birthday is in two weeks and he wanted something to help him get around France and to and from interviews. I have to say that I was a bit dismissive of them, thinking they were for lazy drivers, but after the guy in shop had demonstrated one to us I was a total convert. Seb tested it out going back and forth from work the week before leaving and was very impressed with it and so far in France it seems to have done a good job.
So I left my husband in the good care of a little plastic device gently guiding him around the highways and byways of la belle France. How modern.
One of the things that reassured me about Sebastien traveling on his own was that Stephan (Seb's best friend) and I had bought him an early birthday present, a Sat Nav. His birthday is in two weeks and he wanted something to help him get around France and to and from interviews. I have to say that I was a bit dismissive of them, thinking they were for lazy drivers, but after the guy in shop had demonstrated one to us I was a total convert. Seb tested it out going back and forth from work the week before leaving and was very impressed with it and so far in France it seems to have done a good job.
So I left my husband in the good care of a little plastic device gently guiding him around the highways and byways of la belle France. How modern.
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