Toys and Tribulations

Timeline: Friday 4 May. We have two new toys on the premises right now. I arrived back from the UK after a long wet drive in my open top classic last Saturday. I returned to the UK with my pal Alistair, a week ago, as I had a dental appointment and wanted to get my TR3 back on the road and return with it to France.

It looked as if it wasn’t raining from the ferry, as it docked at Ouistreham, but found it drizzling as I drove off and got a mischievous grin from the customs man, who must have heard that weather forecast I missed. The beauty of an open top sports car in the rain, is that so long as you make reasonable forward progress, any rain simply goes whoosh, right over your head and you stay reasonably dry and comfy whilst enjoying the pleasure of being at one with the environment.

One drawback however with being that close to a wet environment on a busy motorway, is the tendency for spray getting behind the windscreen, so you’re constantly using an increasingly soggier gloved hand to wipe the inside of the windscreen, your instruments and the satav screen, while the water collecting on your hat and collar eventually finds a way past your scarf and down your neck. By the time you decide that you’d be better off with the roof up . . . and environmental conditions need to be devastatingly noxious for me to do that (or the bride sat in the passenger seat!) then you realise that unless you can stop somewhere undercover, the time it takes to extract the hood from the boot, erect if and fasten all those poppers and catches with cold wet fingers, then all of you, rather than just the upper part, will need wringing dry through a mangle.

So continuing on without stopping meant I got home an hour earlier than expected and Paul hearing the exhaust roar as I approached, soon had the gates open and I slid the Rocket into the joinery workshop, alongside the bride’s Beetle.

Toy number one, safely home after a fabulous and memorable drive.

Extra points bonus: Paul is now referring to the building previously known to him as the ‘joinery shop’, now solely as the workshop!

One of our adventures Alistair and I had was to wander off into the wilds in search of a mini digger whose enterprising owner had advertised for hire in a local builder’s merchants. The guy turned out to be a self proclaimed impoverished farmer, but his hire and delivery charges went far beyond our budget expectations, so we took up a recommendation from the boss of the metal fabricators in our village and went to talk to the nice people at MGAV. ‘It’s just off the giraffe roundabout near Doue’ were the instructions and fortunately, my local knowledge got us there in 10 minutes.

Alistair, a canny man, when asked how long we might need the digger, suggested 2 days from Friday 4^th, ‘and you’ll collect it when, Monday morning?’ he innocently asked. The nice man smiled and then winked as he said that was okay and it would give us a little more flexibility! Not bad, buy two, get one free.

So Thursday evening saw this little gem below, delivered for our enjoyment for a few days.

Toy number two, shiny clean and eager to please,

Was content to let a delighted Mr Beast sit at his ease,

Exercising his long remembered plant driver skill,

Made rock encrusted ground, bend to his will.

‘The first cut is the deepest’ . . . not in drainage digging it’s not Rod!

Progress was rapid and just like using a concrete mixer over a bucket and spade, you’d never really want to ever go back to digging just by hand again if you could help it. To put this into context, what had taken me a day and a quarter to dig by hand the previous month when hooking up the new bathrooms, was completed in just 30 minutes.

A concern, well a worry really, was whether we would disturb the cellars when digging the drains over them. I’d tried to keep as much trench clear of this area, but some still remained and although I’d carefully measured the ground depth above the cellar ceiling as well as could be, real concern remained. That concern showed on both our faces, as Paul shaved slivers at a time from the bottom of the trench, with me keeping a close eye on the excavation. When safely past the cellars, I went down with my torch for an inspection and came back five minutes later wearing a happy face. Everything just as it should be.

Satisfied that risk of danger had passed, I set off to buy some more drain fittings and some food. After shopping, sat in the car outside the supermarket watching the rain pour down, I thought I’d drive a bit further to pick up another cast iron manhole cover, by which time the rain might ease, so I wouldn’t get too wet. The rain did fortunately ease and I felt happier for Paul on the digger. The sky had a particularly translucent quality with a distinctly deep darkness creeping over the horizon. The next instant, the whole of the visible sky was streaked through with forked lightening and 60 seconds after that, the traffic was reduced to a crawl, as the road struggled with the flash flood.

Meanwhile, Paul was having an interesting time, as trenches filled to the top with water and he had to dig a sump in order to carry on with the trenches. The sun was shining and the clouds gone by the time I returned home and we had to just take a minute and laugh at the situation. I remembered much later, how very grateful I was that the integrity of the cellars was intact!

Despite the downpour, by the end of the day, almost all the drain trenches were dug.

The next morning, the courtyard looked more like a scene from a Great War film set . . . nothing but mud and trenches and we began to grade the falls, lay and joint pipes. Manhole sections were concreted in, channels cut, fixed and benched and the sections under vehicle routes concreted over. The end of the day saw a remarkable difference, but we still had to fill in the excavations and form that important final manhole which was to be joined up to the town sewer in a week's time.

Sunday was our ‘flexibility’ day with the mini-pel and we started filling and compacting the trenches, but it became evident that we’d need it for a bit longer and as Paul was returning to Malta for a well earned rest at the end of the week, I was pleased to be able to keep it for another day and a half.

The rain never ever totally left us and we continued working long and hard days to get through this essential part of the build. After showering at the end of our days, and eating a meal, we both fell into our beds to repeat the process the next day. We were both getting very tired and Paul was suffering from painfully swollen knees, but thankfully we had completed all we needed to and had an easier couple of days of lighter inside duties. The weather decided to laugh at us now by being bright and sunny, but we had overcome all challenges, not to mention Mr B working past the pain barrier! It had been hard, dirty and sometimes frustrating work, leaving us cold, wet, but not miserable. Was it emotional though? Well it wasn’t exactly fun, but well worth the effort and we will look back on the five days with smiles on our faces.

And finally, placing that last manhole

Ever the perfectionist

Paul found a hole . . . and is looking into it

Until next time,

LC

An Honoured Guest

Timeline Thursday 12 April: My good pal Alistair rang me up the other day. We’ve known one another for almost ten years and have steadily become firm friends and amongst numerous passions, we share an active interest in most things French and have spent some remarkably happy times in France together, with our respective brides.

I think Alistair was at a loose end and wanted to be of help in our quest to turn our delightful, yet slightly frayed around the edge buildings, into something a bit wondrous. ‘I could come out for a week and help get things organised’ says he, ‘What a splendid idea’ says me, ‘and when can you come?’ Hoping I wasn’t sounding altogether too eager, I was relived to discover Alistair had a slot to spend some French leave here in the Loire and we agreed a date.

The date, as it happened was less than three days after the bride, my sis and her hubby had left us, so we had to quickly tidy everything up and lay a floor in Alistair’s bedroom. We were all ready with time to spare for a change and the guest suite was getting more complete with each successive visitor.

After the tour, I was relieved that Alistair also saw the vision I had for the place as soon as I set foot here eighteen months ago and we decided to work out a breakfast plan for the week ahead. However, not before the three of us chaps set about creating and enjoying an evening meal accompanied by some local red and as eclectic and entertaining a mix of shared stories as could be wished for.

Next morning, over fresh bread and croissants, we decided the plan was to seek out appropriate specialists for the work we couldn't do ourselves, tell them what we wanted, obtain acceptable quotations for their work and commit them to turning up to do it sometime near when we needed them to. This last one is always the tricky bit and the French artisan can be more slippery to nail down than the raw ingredients for an oily eel pie.

Concentrating on the big things we were not going to attempt ourselves, we needed new windows for the barn and little house, roof repairs to the barn, big and little houses, a new underground drainage system for the whole site, a new balustrade to the little house’s external staircase and and and . . . . well that was quite enough to be going on with and Alistair was only here for a week! This might be a good time to remember to mention that my good pal spoke fluent French, particularly technical French for the construction industry, having worked here for several years and also being an engineer and owning a place in Provence way before it became fashionable to do so, following Peter Mayle’s entertaining books. Alistair and I had also worked together in construction project management for a few years and so knew something about what we were about.

The windows were the first target, as they were complicated and my previous effort to obtain a proper quotation from a well known national specialist, was met with less than success. The company quoted only for selective windows and doors, yet they tried to compensate for the missing ones by giving prices for other windows not asked for, well at least not by me! This challenge required successive visits over the next few days, which gradually produced the correct specification, configuration and quantities of doors and windows. The remarkable constant however, was that this well know company appeared not to have any way of referencing or identifying the doors and windows on their detailed printed schedule with those the customer had asked for. Not any great difficulty if only a handful of standard sized windows, but not so for eleven purpose-made units to two buildings. Hence, every time we received a revised schedule, no one knew where any of the windows went, so it was an arduous task to check if it was right! Even the surveyor who came to measure up, discarded the paperwork provided by his office and used a copy of our list. It had a note of which building, façade and room each window was for, together with a simple unique reference number, which ran from 1 to 11. Simples!

A deposit was finally paid and I now have delivery and installation dates and am so very grateful for Alistair’s invaluable help. It would have taken me weeks to achieve what he managed to do in a few days and then I would never be sure it was right!

Other tasks were ticked off with less difficulty, including postponing any tax liability for the barn for another year and getting the work for our new sewage connection into the water board’s pipeline (only just saw that pun). Then we found a gem of a company right in the village and its young boss, proved a most agreeable and useful man to know. He not only came round to measure up for our new staircase railings (quotation now accepted), but also repaired our pressurised water vessel we use to water the garden, cars and the concrete mixer, within 24 hours and told us where to hire a mini digger to dig our drains. That is quite a separate story, so come back soon to hear all about it. It was truly emotional!

I had no doubt that Paul and Alistair would get on well, as both have worked in construction all their lives, both hail from London and I’ve know these good chums for years, Paul in fact for over two decades. It was no surprise then that the two shared many old haunts, but I was genuinely surprised that both of them shared an interest for rowing and had competed against the same London clubs in their earlier years. I knew about Alistair’s rowing passion and was delighted to learn of Paul’s. Well, every day’s a school day!

Coming up next time: Rain, lots of it and no roof and then the tired and emotional part about the, erm . . .well, just wait and read it, haha!

A bientôt,

LC

Gin n'll Fix It!

Timeline: Friday 6 April. After an intensive period of bathroom fitting out, we’ve now got the new guest bathroom finished and operational. When we eventually got the shower screen assembled following the ‘one size fits all’ multilingual graphical instructions, none of the sliding doors stops lined up and the doors wouldn’t meet in the middle! Shortly thereafter, we realised the fatal flaw in the instructions and that roughly half the people assembling these screens would install the top rail on the bottom and the bottom rail on the top! No mention of this in the instructions, so new holes drilled means no one will ever know!

Saturday tomorrow and the bride arrives with my sis and bro’ in law Roger, with some essential supplies and to be our first guinea pigs. 

Fortunately, the tribe were taking the pretty route down to Saumur, which was just as well, as the two new beds reckoned they would keep two people busy for 45 minutes building them. Phaa, we’ll see about that! The timings obviously accounted for not reading the instructions carefully enough, but I had both beds up and in good order in just over the hour and the bed linen next to them, if beds not actually made.

The pretty route turned out to be the remarkably scenic one, giving us the time to put loo paper, towels and cushions out and then there were sounds of triumphant arrival outside the gates. Hugs all round as the contents of two cars emptied into the kitchen and office and the first of several bottles were opened and we descended effortlessly into a relaxed state of happy dishevelment.  

The first bottle to lose its top was one of a sufficiency of Tanqueray gin and it’s amazing the damage that five healthy G n’Ts can do to a bottle. The magic of merriment took over however and cooked food appeared as much wine disappeared and the new shower was pronounced a marvel. The next morning demonstrated just how close our baker really is and despite how slowly one walks, the round trip, even with a queue, struggles to last more than three or four minutes and the feast of oven cooling bread and croissants, with real butter and fresh coffee always reminds you to smile.

Roger wasted no time in wiring up the heated towel rail and mirror lights in the new bathroom and we took the bride’s new left hand drive Beetle for a spin to the local Bricoman.

My next door neighbour, having helped a few days earlier finish our last bottle of local red wine, took me five minutes up the road for fresh supplies and I repeated the happy process with the tribe. Monsieur remembered me and we again sampled the product and bought several 10 litre ‘bag in boxes’ of the Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon at €24 a box and he threw in a cadeau of half a dozen bottles as well. Most of the haul returned to the UK and I understand the Sauvignon put up little resistance when required to perform.

Sis and Roger made me open my early birthday present, which still makes me smile every time I slide one of the Sabatier knives from its block, which is every day and they make the pleasure of preparing a meal even more enjoyable.

The bride fortunately approved of the carefully chosen bathroom tiles, which spurred me on to choosing the ones now lining the floor and walls of the other bathroom, which she has not yet seen, but I know she’ll appreciate, as Paul and I already do.

The visit ended far too soon, but we sorted the design and distribution for the new electrical supplies and Roger will be back to make sure everything goes in its proper place, as soon as EDF provide the extra juice.

One last sleep with the love of my life for a few weeks, as we are welcoming several dear friends to Le Clos de Rose together in June, hopefully bathed in the rich warmth of the early summer.

Friends and family, they are critically important to well being and I love and cherish them all.

A bientôt,

LC