I May Have Spoken Too Soon !

It’s been a good week so far. After four phone calls, I’ve got a window guy coming round on Friday to quote, plus my good buddy Paul aka Mr Beast is arriving in a few days to add his expertise and practical building skills to the project. Also I think I’ve found a local electrician who is willing to work with us and seems to understand what we want to create and more importantly, how to design the electrical distribution system to do it.

This is a large project he told me. Fortunately, that’s not the way I look at it. It’s actually a series of much smaller projects, joined together to achieve a pleasing whole. Small chunks of clearly defined work are much easier to control from the time, quality and cost perspective. Anyway, I just don’t fancy managing a large electrical sub-contract, so we’re both going to have to see it my way, haha!

Actually getting this important specialist part of the project underway is a blessing, as I’ve known for a while that we need to increase the power supply capacity. If this wasn’t pretty obvious from our need to supply power to many additional buildings, then the fact that the power currently trips out whenever I’m cooking with the washing machine or tumble dryer going really gives the game away! For the technically minded (Roger, hello chum) the total power supplied to the house is 20 amps, where it really should be four times that amount for modern living.

Call that snow?

Another good friend woke me early on Monday morning with a text message to tell me it was snowing in Hampshire, so feeling smug while enjoying this mild janvier, I was responding with suitable sarcasm, not to mention rudeness at being aroused from my sleep, when snatching a glance through the window to inspect my clear sky, what should I see but, well, snow! My post last week had me speaking too soon and the electrician was even saying how unusually mild it was, as there was often a frost and even snow was not unknown!! My head is hung in shame, but what a difference a day of snow makes. The village and surrounding vineyards have turned into a Christmas cake tin picture.

Now that's more like it

Note to self: buy more soup, we may be stuck here for a while!

The snow started really gently and I thought it would fizzle out like a damp firework, but it continued and grew in heaviness and by lunchtime, I had to admit defeat and all plans for finishing off the barn dig were abandoned. I did however dress up and took a walk to the Mairie to post my notice of actually starting the building work through their letterbox and took my camera with me. I even received an invite to a snowball fight, but my precious camera stopped me from decimating the trio of yoofs with an intensive neigeblitz, so they lived to tell the tale of how they drove the anglais away!

As pretty as it is, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for no more snow, as I’d like to get some more work done on the barn without dressing up like Nanook of the Loire!

More soon, TTFN 

LC

The pretty courtyard garden

Everyone is staying in today

Blanketed vineyards

Happy New Year

 

Here we are again, as happy as can be in the deep mid-winter of the Loire Valley and I’m very pleased to say that it’s as mild as I was quietly hoping for. We’ve all heard exaggerated claims from people who live somewhere gorgeous in the summer, as they tell you it never snows, freezes, or rains much and the winters are short and mild. Well, it seems to be true here, at least as far as January is concerned and I’ve recorded 11 to 12 degrees C over the past week in mid-afternoon. There has been no frost yet and hardly any rain, although it did blow a bit in December and I noticed a couple of slates have blown off a damaged eaves section of the barn roof.

I’ve dug so much rock out of the barn since I’ve been back this last week, that my hands and particularly the finger joints are rather sore, so anti-inflammatory drugs in hand, I’m taking a couple of admin days and now have a local electrician coming to price some work on Friday and have commented back this morning to the webmasters on the latest draft of our website. It’s looking a bit fab and groovy ;~)

I’ve also taken some pics of the dig only to find I didn’t have the camera to pc cable in my bag when I came to download them, so am unable to post new photos here until the new one arrives from Hong Kong. This is via ebay at a modest $5.00 US delivered to by French letter box. Not only am I more cynical these days, but firmly believe in the words, ‘If it seems too good to be true, it probably is’. But hey, I am desperate and 5 bucks is an easy punt, so fingers crossed (if I was able!) and hopefully the Chinese New Year won’t delay my stringy thingy too long.

Right, I’m off food shopping and also some jolly bloke’s shopping on the way back in the form of a big bad pressure washer. Getting wet is usually fun!!

TTFN  LC

Closing Down for Winter

Lundi le 12 decembre dawned, or at least at 09h00 did when I woke up to a shinning sun is a brightly clear blue sky. Fast forward 8 and half hours to a small village in Normandy and it was so cold I couldn’t feel my hands by the time I’d unloaded my few things needed for a couple of nights at our holiday home before catching a ferry back to blighty. So it seems to be some truth in the stories I’ve heard that winters in the Loire are milder than up north!

Yesterday, I switched from solid digging (and I mean solid, as in the solid rock I’m now excavating) to clearing out assorted stable fittings and the original partly collapsed staircase from the corner of the barn ready for more reducing levels.

The first 2 metre section of steps was long gone, but the basic support structure (newel post, outer string and handrail) was still there. I’d found several dates inscribed in the stone upstairs, the oldest being 1812, so I was reluctant to demolish the steps, so set about dismantling them. To remove the lower structure, I took a hammer and drift to the two oak pegs of the mortise and tenon joints securing the handrail and string to the newel. The tapered pegs popped right out and the tenons slid out of the mortises like they were only assembled a week ago. Craftsmen knew how to build things well 200 years ago and we certainly wont mention the war, well not tonight Josephine ;~)

Digging out at the base of the stairs was relatively easy as there was an infill of sand and clay tile some 450mm deep. Besides salvaging some 30 odd tiles, which is a bonus, as you can find them for sale in depot ventes for several euros each, I uncovered a stoppered liquid filled glass bottle and put it aside for further investigation.

All in all, I’d excavated by hand, just about half of the 50 m2 floor area to a depth of half a metre and created an evolving spoil pattern in the back garden which will require some creative landscaping scheme if I haven’t got to load it all onto the truck and cart it somewhere else.

So here we are, the dig is officially closed for the season and I am writing this in Normandy, preparing to hop across the channel in a couple of days to spend a happy Christmas with the bride and family on the Isle of Wight, while outside the wind is doing it’s best to encourage the roof to fly south for the winter. Hopefully all will be well, but stay tuned for the next instalment and see how things progress!

Anyway, some have asked for more pictures, so here you go . . .

Restored workshop doors and no more ivy covered walls

Lots of shiny new manly tools waiting to be shown a good time

Spoil wars!

The old stable

To become the new kitchen

Napoleonic staircase

Lower section removed to storage

Horse medicine, witch bottle?

Hidden Treasures!

Mercredi le 23eme dawned the dry and overcast day I had set aside for gardening; namely cutting the grass and mauvais herbs behind the barn, before they grew so high, I’d need the brush cutter. 

The recently reconditioned lawnmower, which had lain dormant in our UK shed for some 10 years, started first pull and soon made mincemeat of the grass and (mainly) weeds and I received a wave from a local monsieur tending his allotment next door. Mmm, we seem to have a garden I told the bride so we went hand in hand to confirm this happy fact. Monsieur was still tending, so we introduced ourselves and he introduced us to his four chickens, expertly providing two eggs every day, which he said with a proud smile and proceeded to pull an armful of fresh leeks for us. We know from our little cottage in Normandy that this is typical neighbourly behaviour, yet the friendliness of our fellow humans in rural France still continues to bring us a warm happy feeling. 

Undisturbed for years

Having dispatched the high grass so easily, I next tackled the row of quick growing conifers which had taken over half the width of the drive leading to the hangar slash client parking, so choosing a bow saw and stout leather gloves, I set to work on a little more mass destruction and was soon unearthing interesting things from the undergrowth, some useful. First came a serviceable green plastic rain butt, thankfully empty, so easy to roll out of the way, then a couple of what passes here for 40 gallon oil drums and then a large brass tap, just the sort I’d spent weeks looking for in Normandy for a water feature. Then emerged a hunk of iron, part of something larger which to my delight turned out to be a complete harrow, small enough to be drawn by a horse or couple of small children when Dobin was busy and finally, a truncated conical concrete thingy. Possible the stem of some homeless gnome’s ex-toadstool, or fishing weight for Jaws, not sure which, but it will doubtless feature in a supporting role somewhere in Clos de la Rose next year. 

A bientôt, 

LC

Wildlife and Workshops

20 novembre, not so much a red letter, rather a red squirrel day today, as a lovely chap or chapess with an enormous fluffy tail ran right across the gate and into the rose bush in front of the little house this afternoon. Yet another attraction to mention on the website under wildlife and Monsieur, Madame or Mademoiselle Busy Tail joins the resident ranks of lizards, butterflies and numerous birds who share our space, as well as the large grey and white cat that seems to like sleeping in the back garden.  

We have been thinking how to attract further welcome guests into La Clos de la Rose, through planting and environment enrichment. We rather like the idea of a wild flower meadow, well perhaps a small patch of garden than meadow and a pond which can become home to aquatics and wandering dragonflies. We suspect our two cats will appreciate any fish we may be foolish enough to supply for them, as Magic and Misty will soon learn to hunt lizards too, much to our annoyance, but, hey, a cat’s gonna do what a cat’s gotta do!

On the building front, things are slowly progressing. The kitchen floor is still reducing in levels, now looking like a partially excavated basement and with the arrival of my half lifelong friend and old car and builder buddy, my workshop (strictly old cars!) has been taken over as his woodworking shop, as Mr Beast exerts his influence and finds a cosy place to park his white van!

We spent a day and a half buying and then fitting some agricultural looking building supplies to make the workshop secure from a home insurance point of view, as the bride so disliked all my tools, ladders and scaffold being stored in the kitchen. Personally, I felt more in touch with the project being so close to the means to build it, but I could see her point and the manly objects of creation now rest rather appropriately and dare I say even seductively in the workshop, ready for action at the drop of a hard hat.

Laters,

LC

Ha! Who Says The French Have Two Hour Lunches?

Saturday, Day 3 of life in France and I set my alarm last night for D Day. Delivery of the beds, fridge/freezer and the ever so needed washing machine, so essential for a builder chap!

I was up at 07h45, almost unheard of for me on a Saturday morning unless I’m going to a motor sport event or for some classic car fun. Knowing that the working day here usually starts at 08h00, I was taking no chances, but risked a two and a half minute excursion to the boulangerie for a pain au raison and a mid day quiche. Having cleared the bedrooms, utility and kitchen corner to receive the goodies the night before, I had little to do inside the house, except deflate Lilo Lill who had made me reasonably comfy the past two nights.

So I went back to lumber jacking and at 12h15 decided that the delivery team were tucking in to their statutory two hour lunch, so I may as well have mine. Mmm quiche avec lardons and Branston small chunk pickle and the regulation mug of Rosy Lee and sharp at 13h00 the doorbell; rang with the white goodies just half way into a great French institution. I just hope that their union never discovers this, as there will be a national strike as quick as you can say pass the pickle!

Anyroad, having apologised for my bad French, the two chaps quickly unloaded everything, brought it all in, assembled the beds, installed the washing machine and fitted the frigo in place and removed every last piece of packaging and left me feeling very well served. Top marks Conforama.

Right, I better go shopping now and fill the fridge/freezer with my weekly allowance.

As a treat tonight however, I’m particularly looking forward to eating at Le Bouchon Ponot

Laters,

LC

Red Letter Day

Thursday 11th October started in our small but perfectly formed farmhouse in Normandy with my architect chum Nick delivering breakfast with me doing the coffee. Nick and the lovely Rebecca are staying in their recent French acquisition a few minutes drive away, while all around them, various building tradesmen are wielding manly power tools in an effort to render it habitable. Now these fine pair are no wimps, for I called round to the des-res the night before and I swear that, once I’d got my truck un-stuck from all the mud and negotiated the drainage earthworks protecting this English couple’s castle, it was just as cold inside the house as outside. So Nick brought breakfast when he called round to collect a pair of oil filled electric radiators to redress the outside temperature inside the castle.

The day then progressed through a three hour drive to our own newly acquired piece of the Loire and my arrival was really the new beginning, as this is the day where I start my new life in France for real. Driving into Le Puy in warm sunshine felt like coming home and I had my happy face on as I was finally beginning the process of converting our lovely under maintained, but clearly loved group of honey coloured stone buildings into our vision of idyllic contentment. A work of passion I hope and I have a steadily growing schedule of early tasks to accomplish ahead of my retired builder buddy joining me for a very much working holiday in a few weeks time.

After unloading the truck and getting most things near where they should be, I conduct my little private ritual of walking the boundaries and inspecting what we have named Le Clos de la Rose. Everything is neat and tidy, although I’ll need to do some gardening soon and those quick growing conifers leading to the hanger need trimming with extreme prejudice if clients are ever going to park there . . . add a chain saw to the list! Marcel has left some further treasures for us as I discover a tiny school desk in one of the outbuildings. Was I ever that small all those decades ago to learn to write my name on such a institution as such a small school desk? I just can’t believe it now.

In the grenier of the pretty house is another even more nostalgic school desk and this has several pair of small leather boots, an animal’s yoke, doubtless to help haul the grape harvest and a beautiful cased clock. The clock is a real surprise and I must remind Marcel what a kind friend he has already become.

The cellars are still full of his wine, all carefully labelled with dates going back to 1989 and the occasional ‘n’est pas touché’ with the name of an owner added as a reminder. It feels good to have a cellar full of wine, even though it’s not mine and I’m happy to help my friend.

I’ve made a list of tasks to do tomorrow in my day book. This includes phoning my insurance broker in the UK to pay my car and household insurance renewal premiums, begin getting an internet connection and buy a gas bottle for the cooker, so I can start to feed myself properly, rather than rely on tonight’s delicacy of bread and butter spread with pate, with dessert of bread and butter spread with fig jam. As I’m writing this at the kitchen table I smirk, as I turn round to look at the oven and then twirl a couple of knobs and convince myself that (and I’m laughing out load now) it really is an electric oven! The gas bottle will operate three of the hob rings, the fourth also being electric. Note to self: why did the bride not tell me I could cook here straight away? Yes okay, I know that’s because I couldn’t cook beforehand anyway, but I found the situation funny!

Off to squish the lilo and get some sleep and look forward to the next great day.

 A bientôt.

 LC