36. truth be told

My friend Barry told me that my last post was a one-sided account and pointed out to me that it wasn't really fair towards our electrician not to explain his issues.

In my opinion his issues are so numerous that even an entire blog dedicated to them would only scratch the surface, requiring the sort of help that only comes with a prescription and a straightjacket but in the spirit of fair-game I'll try to highlight the two main problems he had on site (please bear with me as it is a bit technical):

1.  Our partition walls have a metal frame onto which plasterboard is fixed with screws. A LOT of screws. Now our diva found it very convenient to run and fix his cables in the grooves of the metal frame. His cables were now straight, no longer dangling, and that was probably soothing his OCD. Unfortunately when the plasterboard is fixed onto the above mentioned metal frame, the screws go through the grooves. So while Stéphane and I appreciate the entertainment value of taking down all the plasterboard to find which screw(s) went through which wire(s) and makes the trip switch go everytime we try to switch it back on, I thought of declining the offer and save the small fortune I would spend replacing wires and plasterboard and take Fox to the Valley of the Monkeys instead. So the cables were removed from the grooves, and our diva had a fit. Well, boo-hoo.

2.  Stéphane, seeing that our diva hadn't finish laying his cables on the ground, having taken up another job to which we hadn't objected to, and that the concrete was to be delivered and laid in three weeks time, he kindly informed him that he soon will have to lay the metal mesh that was to be trapped in, and solidify, our new concrete floor. Stéphane reminded him. We reminded him. I believe even Annie reminded him. And everytime he assured us that he would be there Monday, Thursday, tomorrow. A couple of days before the concrete was delivered, our diva turned up, found all 150 m2 of classrooms covered with metal mesh and complained. 

So there, you have it.

35. the electrician diva

a new squatter

There's been a bit of drama on site lately. I was coming back from work and as usual I went to the classrooms to see if everything was alright and talk to the guys. There I found our English electrician, having won us over with tales of flexibility, sudden unemployment and imminent fatherhood, packing. He looked at me and advised me to find someone else to finish the build, the way you tell someone to take an umbrella before setting off for a walk: calmly, almost with a benevolent smile.

Needless to say that his smile was more vicious than benevolent and that my immediate impulse was to wring his treacherous neck and give him a piece of my mind with all the appropriate expletives, French and English, that I knew (and God knows I know quite a few as anyone who's been in my company while driving will tell you).
Instead I asked him if he realised how deep in shit he would put us into should he leave, and enquiring about any problems I wasn't aware of. He was as much forthcoming as a guilty soul and I quickly understood that we were being held hostage in retaliation for his problems with Stéphane. Having not grown his own pair of balls yet, as regularly demonstrated in his silent dealings with his partner, a weird cross between the Dexter's Lab cartoon character Dexter and Barbapapa's Barbamama, nonetheless  he had the nerve to put our backs against the wall: effectively saying sort out my problems or I leave. I told him to meet me at the bar in a little while to give me time to talk to both Stéphane and Fox, who later assured me that nothing had happened during the day.

We invited him to the bar to talk, telling him that now was a good time as no one was in there. We saw him passing by and going to a friend's house on the place. The little turd kept us waiting two hours. Wringing his neck was back on my mind but Fox convinced me to go easy so when he finally turned up we had a little talk. I was calm, collected and in control, just about. I handled him much like the stereotype of the director handling the star having a fit, feeling insecure. In the end it was resolved, but what he failed to realise is that, when you start a business, reputation is everything, and so far, having disappointed most of his clients and insulted his co-workers, his is rapidly turning against him. We, for one, won't recommend him anymore.

mum keeps an eye on us

Then, shortly after this crisis, I walked in the classrooms to check things out and I discovered we had a squatter. A black redstart mummy decided to lay her eggs in a hole our diva had drilled to fit a double light switch. I feared he might kick a fuss when I asked him to work around the bird and try not to disturb her too much but he happily agreed. Last year we had swallows nesting in there, I think we might put up nesting boxes in the garden to avoid our house being overtaken by squatters. The school having been left to rot for so long, it is not impossible for the birds to have nested there before and returning. It's quite funny though, she lying on her eggs, keeping an eye on us but not taking flight. Now I check on her every morning and first thing coming back from work. You don't hear her complaining...

34. back to art

I've never been very keen on surprises. I hate being caught unprepared and hate even more being the centre of attention. And Fox does know that. So when he told me, a couple of evenings ago,  that he had forgotten to tell me we were invited at Annie's for dinner, I didn't make much of it. We got a bottle of wine, took Mooh for a little walk around the village and slowly the three of us made our way to the Galopin.
We came in and walked into my surprise birthday party. It took me a little while to understand it was all for me, including the children's drawings of the walls congratulating me on my fiftieth birthday. The little rascals. Although my first instinct was to walk out I must admit it was really sweet. Having been away for my birthday, my friends had planned a celebration a month later. Annie cooked my favorite dish, saag chicken, Alain had brought lamb curry and salad and the queen of the desserts, Marina, fruit tiramisus. Food heaven. Stéphane was on time and groomed, and I was really touched by his effort (anyone who knows him will understand. To get him to be on time is impossible, just like bringing my boss to orgasm I imagine).

Fox has set up a temporary studio in one of the bedrooms on the first floor. When we were in London be bought quite a lot of small canvases to start a series of landscapes. I feel extremely proud and happy to see him going back to painting, I just cannot imagine him not doing it. I must also admit that I felt extremely jealous. 
Once he was set up I went downstairs and I looked for my cameras. I picked up my old Nikon, it was covered in dust  and I felt a bit ashamed to have neglected it that much. There is still a roll of film inside with very few pictures taken. I just can't remember the last picture I took with it. I miss having a darkroom at hand, and it will be a long time until I can set up my own at home. For starters, almost all the equipment is still at papa's home up north. Then there is no place suitable at the moment. As for renting one, there's nothing in the region, I checked. I'll just have to be patient. So in the meantime, to keep me occupied, I bought a domain and some space on the net to rebuilt a website where I could show my old pictures. It's not ideal but it will have to do at the moment, if I ever manage to find the digital copies I made of them that is.

And talking about creativity, there is a new blog about the adventures of Mister Blisters that I urge you to read, and to follow. It's funny and witty, I hope you'll support him wholeheartily. Take a peek! http://misterblistersunemployment.blogspot.com.

33. one year on

It's been a year since we traded crazy London for the not-so-sleepy Poitou. Progress has been slow but are now seeing our dream house emerging from the chaos of the renovation. The heat-pump stands proudly in the front garden, the partition walls are up, plugs and switches are sprouting on them, a little bit more everyday, in tune with spring. Next the ceilings will be fitted, and all the electrics will be plugged in the - very expensive - fuse box, followed by the laying of our underfloor heating. Another layer of cement, and voilà! A ready-to-decorate house will finally be ours. But cautiously, relying in my newly acquired experience of French tradesmen, I do not expect to sleep in the house before at least September. Once bitten, twice shy.

Having the inside walls up is giving us a sense of the volume of the rooms. We were worried about the bathroom, the walk-in closet (that became a walk-through closet as one access the bathroom through it) and the library. But now that we can walk in each of them and have a feel of the space, we are relieved to see we made the right choices. I often walk in there while drinking my morning coffee, before going to work. I appreciate the light coming through the huge windows as the sun is coming up, and I imagine how the garden will look like once the tarmac will have been removed. 



It has been a trying year for both of us albeit a very positive one. Fox had to undergo a third operation and will have to go back to hospital soon for corrective surgery. Seeing double and having a poor sense of depth is driving him up the wall but we are all too aware that he could have lost his sight and his eye, so we're trying to put things back into perspective. Being cooped up at home is no fun though, and Fox is impatient to drive again to go to one of his favourite places around here: the déchetterie. The local tip. Indeed. 
As for me I've been told off by the cardiologist. I was in the right place mind you for I nearly had a heart attack when I climbed onto the scales: 94 kg (a bit over 14 st). Overweight (after seeing my face he knew the shock-tactic of telling me I was obese was unnecessary), smoking 40 a day, a stressful job and an artery already clogged up by cholesterol at 30%, I needed to change my ways. And my diet, of course. The one and only cheese and bread diet. It felt like being kicked in the bollocks, really. And this wonderful news came just one week before my birthday. I would have slapped him if he hadn't be really nice and friendly.



The big house opposite us, that was once a hotel and a restaurant, has been sold. It won't come as a surprise that the new owners are English. He came to the Galopin to introduce himself few weeks ago. We had a drink and got talking about the village and I just could not resist to make use of a little piece of information Alain had given me a little while ago once he mentioned that it was once one of the seven hotels in the village, by asking him if he knew that it had been a knocking-shop too. It was a bit cheeky but his face was a treat: shocked but trying not to be by laughing it off. Naughty me. They seem to be lovely people though, and we're happy that more people are coming to our village. That makes two more children as well, which is lovely for little Gaby, he'll have playmate during the summer.


One year on I'm still not used to the road kill. My heart still breaks every time I see one, or kill one myself. Well, I don't so much kill them as being an instrument in their suicide. It's birds mainly. They're like Kamikazes. You'd be driving to work or to the shop minding your own business when they suddenly dart from one hedgerow to the other one across the road and all of a sudden you hear a bang! and see a cloud of feathers. I'm on my fifth. I'm deadly, me.

32. acts of kindness

Sitting at my desk,  firmly committed to do absolutely nothing (New Year resolution, do the strict minimum for the Nazi bitch), I remembered something my dad's girlfriend said to him when he suggested settling in our little village. She was afraid that, should something happen, they would be left to their own devices, far from everything: hospitals, shops and all. So she would prefer living in a town.


But when I reflect on the last few weeks and on poor Fox's misfortunes, I realised how unfounded her concerns are. From the moment our troubles started there has been a spontaneous and generous rallying around us. Mooh was immediately taken in and cared for by Annie and Alistair during our time in Poitiers for Fox's operations (and anyone knowing Mooh will tell you, this is a feat of endurance looking after her), and let's not forgetting the numerous meals she cooked for us throughout that time, Stéphane, our lovely builder, lit a fire for us on both occasions so we could come back to a warm and cosy house, Marina and Philippe are picking up our laundry to dry it regularly and have dropped cooked meals as well so we could chill out a little. And a lot of people have popped in quickly, not wanting to intrude, to see if we were alright and to ask us to let them know should we need anything.


In a village anonymity is non-existent and privacy is difficult to keep and I know that sometimes I moan when people are popping by for coffee and a chat (often in groups!), and they do that a lot, particularly at meal times when you're about to eat (they must have a sixth sense, "Hey! Marie! They're cooking I can feel it! Quick, get the car!"), but if this is the trade off for being part of a community that cares for its members the way our little group does, then I'm all for it.

31. update

Well it's been quite a while since our last post and a lot has happened. After much searching, numerous tradesmen and countless quotes, each of them more expensive than the last, we have at last found a skilled and honest artisan, Stéphane, who didn't see our project as a mean to inflate his bank account and work has finally started on the classrooms.

Stéphane, our man for the job

To have found our man for the job meant that we had to speed up clearing the space. Fox and I, but mainly Fox, had to lift all the floorboards in a very short period of time. We then removed all 70 odd oak beams, each weighting a ton, and stored them under the préau. We could barely stand after that.

the pile near completion

Cast iron radiators felt the wrath of Thor, Fox's favourite hammer, pipes went too, along with the sink (which we will recycle in our own bathroom) and the previous heating system. The classrooms were now stripped of everything but their walls. Oh yes, and I got to use noisy, manly powertools, especially the angle grinder which had the dramatic effect of spraying sparks all over the place!

sparks

Since then we have seen the rebuilding of the wall running through the building, followed by the laying of the concrete beams and concrete blocks onto which more concrete will be poured. The electrician has almost finished running his first round of cables (as we haven't got any ceilings as yet), and all eight windows have been fitted.

the old bones

the middle wall is being cleaned before being rebuilt

the new floor arrives

the new floor is being laid

We also have had more visitors this winter than throughout the summer. Despite our repeated warnings about the house being very cold and with only (at the time) two wood stoves for heating system (now we have three), no one was deterred. And in a sudden turn of event, papa came to see us and announced he wanted to settle in or very near our village after leaving his girlfriend. Within three days he had found another. We were of course delighted of his decision to come live closer to us, but also couldn't help making lists of jobs he could do. Naughty naughty I know.

Mooh's doing well, getting very big and boisterous, going stone deaf as soon as she is out on a walk and enjoying her status of Lady of the house. She still insists on climbing onto our laps to have a cuddle despite the fact that she is huge and can barely fit on them.

On the downside, Fox got a detached retina and had to have surgery in Poitiers. Two weeks of sheer agony followed the procedure. Then the silicone rail that bound his eye (which we were not aware he had) was rejected by his body and they had to operate once again. Hopefully this will be the end of it, although the doctors mentioned the possibility of a third operation. It's been quite dishearting.
And as for my job, it's not getting any better thanks to my boss. The expression "wolf in sheep clothing" has never been so true. She's all smiles and looks at you (well, the clients) the way Mother Theresa looked at lepers but becomes a cold selfish ruthless bitch that makes Hitler look like a choir boy when you least expect it. And should you stand up for yourself she reverts to her little girl act and starts crying (to which I last replied "whatever" before leaving the room).

We'll try to update the blog much more regularly from now on, promise (since I stopped caring about work, I found a lot of time to tweet, catch up with emails and endlessly stare into space so that shouldn't be a problem).

30. meteor shower

To pick up where Fox left off on the beautiful nights of our little village, a fortnight ago the Perseids meteor shower was once more scheduled to light up our skies. We went to the Galopin for a couple of drinks then headed home. I took the air bed from upstairs, along with a blanket, and set it up in the middle of the playground. With a glass of wine in hand we waited for the streetlights to go off. When they did at 11 p.m. sharp, we laid on the bed with Mooh between us and marveled at the spectacle. Some were quite small and disappearing fast, one or two were big and left a scar of light on the black sky that took some time to fade away. It was quite unique, and we were happy to be able to enjoy it the way we did, in our home lookng at our own bit of sky.

Now that the holidays are drawing to an end and that France is reluctantly going back to work, we are finally bracing ourselves for a second wave of quotes and, we hope, the imminent start of the renovation of the classrooms. The guy we are hoping to retain for the job came last week to have another look and to discuss some issues. Unmistakably French with his thick white moustache and red cheeks but with the adornment of an African chief, Mr G. was worried about the cost of digging a trench along the walls, inside the classrooms, for the foundations of small walls that would support the concrete beams of the new elevated floor. It would be quite an expense because there was no way a digger could be brought inside to do the job, and now that the men had gotten used of using effort-saving equipment and machinery they weren't too please to go back to the shovel or whatever it is they were using in the past to dig trenches.

But after much grunting, head scratching and measurement taking, it was decided that digging trenches was no longer necessary, the beams would be directly inserted in the outside walls of the school. Crisis averted. Well, until the quotes are in, of course.

As for the teachers' house it's slowly happening too. Suspended ceilings came crashing down, with the exception of the kitchen's and the bathroom's, and Fox and I are often looking at the regained height with delight. We went to buy sinks, toilets and shower trays the other day as papa is coming soon to give us a hand updating two of the bathrooms (he didn't plan to but got concerned, I suspect, when I told him I'll be "doing it all by myself", including fitting toilets where there are none at present).

Fox also did a tremendous job in the garden by smothering the knotweed, digging it up and covering it with tarpaulin and drenching anything growing through with poison.

As for Mooh she's still growing up fast. Now in her teenage years she has developped selective hearing and a taste for rotten pears (don't ask). Her baby teeth have fallen out and the big, white, adult ones are coming through. She ain't gonna be small and she'll have teeth to match.

29. starry starry night

Well, I have been here a month now and what can I say? I already feel I have been here for years and am getting to know the area. I haven't watched any tv or films since I arrived and have to say that I haven't missed them. Ask me if it will be the same in winter and my answer will probably be different. We spend more time outside so there is no need to coop ourselves inside as we did in London because we didn't have any outside space, except a balcony in full view of the street. I keep thinking that someone is going to tap me on my shoulder and say 'er, excuse me, I think you're living someone else's life and they want it back, awright?'. In between looking after little Mooh I'm doing the shopping and smashing up the house ready for work to commence, and because of that I feel like I have lost some weight already, woohoo! Even though the house is a right old mess I could still live here, with it in that state, for the end of my days.

I started a little project a few weeks back taking a picture of the sunflower field opposite in the same place at around midday-ish everyday and posting it on Facebook, just to see how long it would take the army of yellow heads to rise and fall. It's such a beautiful sight to look out of the kitchen door window and see these stoic flowers standing, waiting to face and greet the sun every morning. Their heads are getting heavier now and bowing, almost kneeling with the weight, almost like the sun has offloaded some of its weight on them.

We spent an afternoon going through papers at the Mairie with one of its employees to see if we could find any more history about the school. The second floor of the builiding still has wallpaper from the fifties, peeling off and dusty. In a room piled with papers we attempted to help sort out documents while at the same time digging for documented gems for ourselves. We did find some lists of pupils and sundry papers, one of which seemed to indicate that at one time the playground had been cobbled. Fab! We then dreamt of finding these cobbles and using them to bring back the asphalt drive to life. We eventually want a garden there. There are still two old tennis court net posts in the playground and so Seb in his enthusiasm to see if there was anything underneath pushed and pulled it out of the ground, butch or what, only discover rubble underneath. Oh well, it's only a small part on the far side so we may yet discover some yet.

Poor little Mooh was spayed yesterday and was a bit sheepish when we got her home. I think she sees the Vet as Dr Death now, so that maybe a problem. When he gave her second injection she was almost climbing over me to get out. But she got her own back that night when we put her in her pen to sleep. She howled for an hour, and not just howled, cried, yelped, mewed and generally tore at our heart strings as he lay in bed wondering if we should go down. Seb went down at one point and nonchalently went to look at something on the kitchen table just to make sure she hadn't attempted to self harm and we'd find a bloodbath in the morning the noise was that disturbing. It really is like having a two year old. She was fine and eventually stopped. The Vet had even given us a morphine pill which we had administered and seemed to have made no difference whatsoever. I think next time we'll ask for a hardcore horse tranquiliser. She's sensitive but a tough bird.

Mum and dad are coming out in early September and we are really looking forward to showing the place off to them. They may be a little aghast at some of the work needed doing but we'll get there. Sebs Papa and his girlfriend Michelle should be down too so they will finally meet, which will be interesting as neither speak each others language. But my Dad can be fluent in anything after a couple of beers!

Heard Mooh whining at 4.30am so took her for a wee (see we are dedicated parents really) and looked up and saw the clearest darkest sky speckled with a sheet of stars. Amazing! I count my lucky stars we live here.

28. new friendships

Mooh is sprawled across the threshold of the kitchen's French doors leading to the playground, stretching every now and then, snoring to her puppy's heart's content, Fox is cutting the small trees we chopped down into tinder for this coming winter and for the first time in weeks I can actually sit down and do something other than working or falling into a slumber. Life is good today. Bar the little fuckers flies that seems to come out of nowhere in their droves as soon as the sun is up.

I was at the Galopin few days before Fox's long awaited arrival, talking about our overgrown garden (Mooh isn't allowed at the back, we fear never to see her again the grass is so high) and the lovely Marina and Philippe casually mentioned they would come and make a start on it sometimes. I thought it was lovely and neighbourly but I have to admit I was a bit doubtful about it actually happening.

Then few days later, as I was driving back from work I saw, sticking out above the wall of the school, a man's head in the playground. I'm now used to finding people wandering on the school ground so wasn't alarmed, just slightly annoyed. But as I turned into the school's playground I found Marina armed with a rake and Philippe with a machine strapped to his body, cutting down the grass, as they said they would. It was baking hot, they had been working that day, but still, here they were true to their promise.

Marina then took me on a tour, showing the rescued Wisteria and rose bush I didn't know were there and we carried on for a little while. I was then invited for dinner. I was very touched, and felt a bit guilty for my initial scepticism. what a lovely thing to do. That night I ate a delicious home cooked dinner, listen to them playing the piano and bass guitar, talking til late, enjoying new friendship.
Then the day following Fox's arrival, as we were having a drink at the Galopin, Marina announced to me that they, the usual crowd I got to hang around with, had had a talked and thought we had enough to do in the house to get ready for the coming winter and therefore should not worry about the garden anymore. They would deal with it. So-and-so had a tractor and an attachment for the back that could take care of the overgrown field at the back, who had the number? And off they were organising the tasks.

Then Stéphane dropped by the next morning with his trailer to help take some of our rubbish to the tip. I went into the caravan to make him a cup of coffee to find him when I returned up the ladder, taking down the bell that threatened to fall down.

It's a quite strange for Fox and I, after years of living in London where people ignore one another and certainly don't want to get involved, to be
looked after in that fashion. There have a been dozen or more such selfless deeds to help us since I arrived, and even more wonderful evenings getting to know the folks of our lovely village.

But all those new friendships are no substitutes for the old ones. I miss my friends terribly and wish they could be here to enjoy a glass of wine and the wonderful night sky with us. Remember, the caravan is now ready for guests.

27. now we are three

After a 'few' drinks after work I got up at 4.30am in a 'slight' alcoholic sweat, with a liquid memory of Paul urging me to have 'just one more' and packed my last items. I didn't want a huge leaving drinks at work or with friends, I wasn't dying after all, and I hope to see them again soon. It was a Thursday, therefore a school night, so not the best time to get people together, which suited me in any event because all I wanted to do was get on that train to Sebastien anyway. I had the best luck as a friend of mine was working on the same Eurostar train and was able to get me upgraded, which meant free hot breakfast, my saviour! I arrived at Lille and had to change to the local station and drag my bags over the bridge to the other station. It was hot, humid and sweaty. You might as well have told me to drag six dead horses with me it felt so endless.

On the train to Poitiers I was dreaming of roast pork for some reason, maybe something to do with the farewell burrito I had at Exmouth Market with my friend Leeloo. It was a small parcel of sheer heaven and the memory of its deliciousness still haunts me now.

I arrived at Poitiers and searched for Seb and there he was. We had one giant hug and I felt at home. We had been too long away from each other and the last few days seemed endless and determined to keep us apart. It was a joy to get in the car and aim for the life we had both been planning for quite a while.

I have been here a week now and I never want to leave. The caravan was far too small for two and so we were determined to move into the house. I cleaned the very basic kitchen area, we moved a large oak table that had been left behind into it and with a microwave, et voila, a kitchen. It has been oppressively hot and without a fridge it has been nigh on impossible to live properly without a cold glass of wine or unwilted salad. But thanks to our new neighbours and publicans we have had the use of a coolbox which has been a boon. Annie and Alistair run the Galopin, the village bar and social hub of the village, and have been incredibly welcoming and looked after Seb while I was in London. It's a great place, where Ringo the Labrador greets you with wag tail and Annie and Alistair with a deliciously cold beer! French and Brits mingle happily. I love this. Language is no barrier, and I'm hoping mine will improve because of this, you only need to be friendly. Sebastien has the double edged sword of being the lucky one to speak both languages fluently, but because of this he has been a conduit between people and helped to explain lunguistic differences, my husband is very clever. In fact, the day I arrived he had reserved a table at Le Galopin and had pre-ordered our dinner, roast pork! That's how clever he is and why I married him, he can even read my pickled mind on a hot train through France.

So we are sleeping on an inflatable bed in a shabby house and I couldn't be happier. I have swapped a flat in London with a view of three tower blocks, with lazy taxi drivers hooting their arrival, boom boom music in open cars and stroppy girls rowing with each other at four in the morning for a view out of the kitchen door of a growing field of sunflowers that will blaze into life in the coming weeks, the tolling of the church bell announcing the hours, the chittering dive bombing swallows and a big blue sky. Why would I want to leave?

Seb and I knew that having a dog in London would have been impossible. Having seen an ad on French internet page I saw some labrador pointer crosses that were being given away. Having discussed breeds and their pros and cons, do we want a jack russell, a boxer or a labrador? A small one or a bigger one, a girl or a boy? There are lots of dogs in the area so we wanted one that would be sociable. We arranged to see the puppies that are left and it turns out that from a litter of 14, poor mum, there were two left. We arrived and saw two gorgeous bouncy little pups. The dad was a huge show labrador and the mother was a liver and white patched pointer and both were very friendly. How to choose? We agreed on the slighter darker and sleeker coated one and put her in the car. She seemed a little worried so I had her on my lap all the way home and we didn't a whine or a whimper out of her. So now we are three and the proud fathers of a little puppy called Mooh, and we are totally soppy about her. Real little house on the prairie stuff.

So last night we sat on the kitchen step, with a glass of wine as the sun went down watching little Mooh sleeping, who needs TV?

26. it's the final countdown.....

Yes, well as the song goes 'It's the final countdown....'. My final week at work. When I'm asked about when it is I'm leaving at work I fill the air with a jubilant air punching 'YESSSSS!!! Not long now!' and they look at me with sideways eyes with as if to say 'awright, calm it down'. A slight exaggeration, but not too far from the truth. I'm very happy to swap a sedentary job with groundhog days for a new life and new challenges, but most of all I can't wait to see my husband. Seb has been out in France for two months now and we have seen each other for one weekend during that time and it's been too long. In fact it has felt more like a mini-bereavement. Of course I will miss my friends, but I know that they will be coming to see us and they will understand why I had to go when they visit. It's simply a life I could never have in Britain. I feel we are more ahead of the game.

My friends put on a wonderful leaving party at Dominic's house at the weekend. It was just perfect. Perfect people, perfect weather, perfect food, just wonderful. Dominic and Paolo made wonderful food and John and Tom brought a box of champagne what more could you ask for. I think it has only just dawned on me that this move will affect my friends a lot more than I thought. There is a lot of love with my friends and that is something we all take for granted from time to time, but when something life changing happens it shakes you up a bit and makes you focus on the important stuff. I cherish that love and know that distance won't diminish it.

So, as I write this, it is four more sleeps until I can be with Seb, who I am sure will cling to me like a happy limpet, and something that makes me smile, even now, as I type. La belle vie, j'arrive!!!

25. a tour of the house

a tour of the house, June 2009

24. head cheese & mind's eye

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.

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.

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.

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.

Lazarus

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?

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.

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!

beetlejuice

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.

the squatters (click on the picture to enlarge)

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.

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.

17. au revoir les enfants

My last day at school came quite quickly and it was a sad affair indeed. I had prepared myself for the goodbyes but looking back I should have taken the afternoon off. Some children kept on asking, through the day, why I was leaving while a little girl in my class kept on coming to me and hugging me. I looked at their little faces, trying to take it all in as if storing memories for future use, not being really useful, feeling in the way and already somewhere else. I wish I could have taken one or two, the ones I know haven't got a good deal at home.

When it was time to leave I could feel my throat tighten and a huge wave of sadness washed over me. I ran away more than walked out, with for last memory little E. calling me, standing at the door in his suit smiling, his bag in one hand and waving with the other.