Missive 32 ~ Every bit of me aches!!

29^th September 2011

Dear All

Yes it’s me – I’m back!!! Attached is Missive 32, beating the Christmas missive by a few weeks!!

But it’s a bumper one, making up for lost time, so I’ll say no more!!

Love

Roger

rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk

Mes chers amis

Every bit of me aches!! ~ Missive 32

“To accomplish great things we must not only act, but also dream, not only plan, but also believe.”

Anatole France

“They can conquer who believe they can.”

Virgil

“When life’s problems seem overwhelming, look around and see what other people are

coping with:  You may consider yourself fortunate.”

Ann Landers

But despite this last quote ....... France Telecom – aaaaaaaaaargh!!!!! It had to happen, once the house was ours Linda arranged for the water board to come and reconnect the water – success, the electricity board to put in a new meter despite the then existence wiring being positively unsafe!! – success!  Then came France Telecom, only an hour late to put in a new line, ready to be connected once we move, and despite two of the most surly individuals, who refused to talk to Linda, as she was a woman and barely talked to me as I’m English, with much huffing and puffing and sharp intakes of breath they renewed the line – coming into the house in the same place and following the same tortuous route to the box, despite us asking if it could be put somewhere easier!  But it was tidily done, after they seemed to have left without a word, returning and coming back in without so much as a by your leave, to finish off and be forced to talk to me – they needed my signature, but surprisingly for France they didn’t want the money!  Then off they sped, well after the customary cigarette, two ignorant technicians, one in a transit type van, the other in a small cherry picker to no doubt delight the next customer with the wit and gay repartee!! – SUCCESS!!

But, on our return back to La Loge, for our customary short lunch break – FAILURE!!  We were without internet and therefore without telephone, email or Skype – effectively cut off from the outside world.  Yes, no doubt you’ve guessed, the line had been transferred a month early to our new house and you would be right, but remember this is France Telecom and therefore this is not the end of the story!

Linda, on the mobile and at the end of the drive, in order to be able to get a signal waited for a slot with the customary canned music, only to be told that yes they had made a mistake, they were very sorry and all would be put right ...... in 7 to 10 days time!  Well, Linda mildly exploded and said that as it was their fault surely it should be done quicker than that, to which came the standard answer “Sorry, but it is out of our control, but we’ll mark it as urgent!”  Yes, we’ve heard that before!  Well, being charitable creatures or indeed knowing there was absolutely nothing we could do, we waited and kind friends came to our rescue, allowing us to use their broadband connection, and providing a great “Internet Cafe” experience complete with wine and nibbles!  After 7 days, on the promise of marking it as urgent Linda phoned once more, to the amazement of the Help Desk, as somehow the request hadn’t been forwarded to the technicians, but it would of course be rectified immediately, well in 7 to 10 days!!  This time the explosion was less mild, and received the standard answer “Sorry, but is it out of our control ......!” which barely had Linda staying in control, but as before our hands are tied and there is absolutely nothing we can do!

But, joy of joys within about 4 days the red light on the “live box” had turned green and once more we were in touch with the outside world.  But, to make sure we had covered all eventualities, Linda phoned them once more to give the statutory three weeks notice of a change of address and to make sure the line was changed on the day we moved!  There followed another interesting conversation, where Linda was told that the line had already been transferred, to which she had to patiently reply that it had indeed, but by mistake had subsequently reverted to our old address, but would need to be moved again, once we moved.  Then, “Yes Madam, that’s all fine but you have already told us!!”  If you didn’t laugh you’d cry!

With more than a little trepidation, moving day came and went and despite the live box being plugged in and all correctly set up, the red light continued to flash and stoically refused to turn green!!  Once more unto the phone and dear friends, this time we took the wine and as the plumbing and electrical work hadn’t gone entirely smoothly and we had moved without a shower being connected the Internet Cafe was now offering showers as well as light refreshments!  The excuse this time was that there was a technical problem with the light and “Thank you Madam for your understanding and patience!”  Bit like red rag to a bull, as Linda retorted that she didn’t understand, her patience had run its course and that as far as she could see the technical problem was nothing more than incompetence!  The customer service person, took slight offence at this and said that if he said there was a technical problem then that was what it was and certainly not incompetence!

Linda, then asked them to explain what the technical problem was, to which they said, well the line was already transferred to our new address, admittedly erroneously, had on our request been transferred back and as it was now going back to our new address this was a technical problem – Linda: “I rest my case ...... gross incompetence on France Telecom’s part!!  The customer service person really had to concede that one and cheerily said it would all be sorted ...... in a couple of days time, but when pressed admitted it could be up to a week!!, but would go through marked as urgent!! A real case of déjà vue!  Not surprisingly we didn’t wait the full week before phoning again; to be told that there was a fault on the line and they were doing all they could to resolve it, but now didn’t know how long it would take, and thank you for your understanding.  The explosion was now high on the Richter scale, but as we now know to our cost (although there have promised to refund our money for the three weeks out of the last four we have be incommunicado) there is nothing they can do and our hands are well and truly tied!!

A couple more days passed and still no cheery green light and us increasingly seeing red, not only the flashing light on the live box, and another phone call, Linda determined not to come off the phone until something was sorted, or to visit the Orange Shop in Fontenay and refuse to leave until it was sorted or to tell them we were changing provider – which in France is something of a hollow threat as all the providers have to have a France Telecom line!!  Over an hour later, when she had been shunted from pillar to post, told umpteen people what the problem was, finally an alert customer service person realised that for all this time, the engineers had been trying to sort out a supposed problem on the line of our old house, not our new one – it was one of those “green light” moments, but let’s not get hasty as the live box is still flashing red, and a technician was available between 8.00 a.m. and 1.00 p.m. on Monday (it was now Friday) if we would like them to call!  Jumping at this, Linda got through to the technicians who confirmed the slot was available, but France Telecom nearly had the last laugh, as before the technician could be booked, they would need to change the address for the work, which they couldn’t do – Linda would need to recall Customer Services, change the address, then call the technicians back to check the slot was still available and book it.  So as the irritating music kept Linda on hold, she had visions of the last Monday slot slipping away and being told the next available slot would be in 7 to 10 days!  But no!, they are booked tomorrow to sort it out, so perhaps don’t hold your breath, as on current form tomorrow may never come, or indeed be the middle of next week – yes you’ve guessed it – 7 to 10 days!!!

At this point in true soap fashion I have decided to write two endings to keep my readers in suspense, and you’ll have to wait and see which ending is the right one!!  First, tomorrow comes and on the dot of 8 in the morning the technician arrives in his little dark coloured Peugeot with the distinctive orange squares on the front doors, he then cheerfully accepts a cup of coffee, and sorts the problem as the kettle boils and whilst the coffee brews we dance gleefully around the green light, in touch once more with the outside world.  Or, 8 o’clock arrives and the technician doesn’t, then 9, then 10 and yes before you know it it’s 12 and lunchtime – those not familiar with French ways won’t realise that lunchtime is sacrosanct and nothing happens between 12 and 2, so we wait expectantly at 2.30 to allow the technician time to clear away his pack up; all three courses complete with wine and coffee, all neatly packed into a large ice box, fold his napkin and put away the table, chair, tablecloth, candelabra, vase of flowers and camp cooker for the coffee (they certainly know how to picnic in style in France and I’ve seen all the above except perhaps the candelabra and flowers, and it was a couple of road workers, not hell bent on eating, getting back to work and finishing early, but realising that eating should be a pleasure and an important part of the day!).  Then before we know it, it is 3.30 and although the technician works until 6 in the evening, the day is rapidly looming but at 5, just in case, we decide to phone from a friends to check the “huit à huit” customer helpline only to find that the helpline has now mysteriously changed to “9 ‘til 5” and so they have gone home for the day, the technician doesn’t put in an eleventh hour appearance and once more we are left feeling frustrated, helpless and cut off from the outside world!

Needless to say, the second ending was the reality and now we must once again wait and see what the   storm clouds bring and as the complaint line sends you an email asking for your comments, which is time activated and seems to always have run out before you receive it!! You can imagine the statisticians rubbing their hands with glee and saying “Another quarter with no complaints, we must be doing very well!!”  Well, over dinner I decided that maybe, as France Telecom is a national company, an email to the top – President Sarkozy, might not go amiss, after all  EDF managed to sort the electricity change over with no problem as did SAUR with the water, so why does France Telecom always get it wrong, and before you jump to the conclusion that it’s something to do with being English, ask a French person what they think of them and be prepared to learn one or two new words that you might not find in the dictionary!!   If nothing else it would make us feel better, but I’ve forgotten the internet isn’t working so no email either!  So, it’s back to reality; same time, same place tomorrow for the next episode!

It’s a few days later and there has been some progress, Monday didn’t happen because, despite Linda spending an hour on the phone, no not ours as it wasn’t connected, changing our address with every conceivable department, they sent the engineer to our old house!  So, when the next day Linda phoned once more, initially they were cross with her, as the engineer had arrived to find no-one there!!  But, realising it was their entire mistake, they pulled out all the stops and promised an engineer at 10 o’clock on Friday – yes four days later.  And, in order to try and cut a very long story short, he came, he puzzled, he tested, he went away to sort it out and returned saying there had been a big problem, but not that it would take 7 to 10 days to remedy, no – it was sorted, the light was green and he said there would be no charge, as it was their fault- just as well as I wouldn’t have been responsible for Linda’s actions had they tried to charge us!!  We were once more in touch with the outside world, well ......... at least we had the internet, the telephone, being on an automated system would take up to 24 hours to be activated, but at least the problem with the line – those two surly engineers from some weeks previously had only done half a job and finding nowhere to plug in the new line, hadn’t bothered to follow it up, was now sorted!!  But, just to cover himself he said if the telephone wasn’t on in 36 hours to ring again!!  How many times had we been told to ring someone, despite not having a phone!!

No phone by Monday morning so Linda was a bit surprised to be told it wasn’t surprising as it was an internet phone and it could take up to 48 hours and pointed out that it was already over 60 hours.  It was perhaps at this time they decided to call in the “expert technician,” much to our surprise as we thought they were all experts!!  It was arranged that he would call Linda at our friend’s house between 3 and 4 this afternoon and he did, and he also lived up to expectations and was an expert, and has seemed to identify the problem (after all this time nobody seemed to realise our package was internet and internet phone!!), agreed we should never have had all the problems we have had and said it would be sorted – in the next couple of days!!  Linda said we were going on holiday so would worry about whether it was sorted , so he has promised to phone or text next Monday (yes I know that’s 6 days away and probably after this missive has winged its way to you) – so watch this space, or rather listen for the dulcet ring of the phone!! Monday the phone did ring, the mobile whilst we were en route to Dunkerque, to tell us all was now well and we would have internet and a phone on our return.  But – we’re not convinced!!  

So, partly because of this and for reasons below explaining the title, this missive will wing its way to you a couple of months late!!  Also, some of Missive 32 will be a little out of date, some written before the move, some since!  So if you feel chronologically challenged, join the club!!

Thank you Jamie! ~ Chapter 3

Having finally put my Governors out of their misery and told them what they already knew, but this time formally and in writing, although pressing the button to send the email had been hard, I had when the chair read out my email and the trembling had stopped been saved quite literally by the bell, as a late comer rang the door bell and I was able to escape for a moment or two to let them in, before returning to read the governors a letter that I had written to go out to the parents the following day, still somewhat amazed that no-one had already got wind of our plans through the bush telegraph / grapevine, call it what you will, as we hadn’t been exactly secretive amongst our nearest and dearest and others a bit further away!  I also requested that I would like to tell the children in assembly the following day, before they left with the letter – I felt I kind of owed it to them, as well as needing to explain.  There followed a rather bizarre sequence of events with two of the governors, both with ecclesiastical backgrounds having previously both suggested they would pray for me, one that the dream could become a reality, the other, incidentally the chair, was going to pray that things didn’t work out and I’d have to stay – very Christian I felt!!  In the stunned silence that followed, to lighten the mood I passed the Chair a note saying “Pray harder” to which she replied out loud, not in note form “Bollocks!” much to the surprise of the lady from Shire Hall, who had been asked to attend to start the not inconsiderable process of finding my successor, in what ended up as rather a short time.  The rest of the governors were used to her! 

This led to another sleepless night; just how do you tell a group of 4 to 11 year olds, who you are really very fond of and who hopefully, at least in most cases!, felt the same about me, that you are leaving them, almost in the lurch and no you don’t know who will be replacing you!  In many ways this was the bit that I had been dreading the most but felt I owed it to the children to tell them personally.  I spent a long time looking for a suitable story to lead into the final bomb shell and get the message across to the children.  This wasn’t normally a problem, but proved very difficult in the circumstances, so decided to do what came easiest to me and “make up” my own story.  But, having always enjoyed a good yarn and perhaps, as a Head, at my happiest telling stories in assembly or round the camp fire on residential visits, the children being at that age when you largely have their rapt attention, and only occasionally have to bellow, purely as part of the unravelling story you understand, even if a few decibels louder that absolutely necessary, to wake up the few that you have lost along the way!  What was needed was a good story, one which I was very familiar with and elements of which the children would also have heard before.

So it was, that the next morning I came to be telling my life story, in the abstract, not naming names, but under the guise of someone who had been fortunate to be able to participate in one of their passions and to have been able to travel a lot in their life, but hopefully dropping in sufficient clues for the children to guess who I was talking about.  So as quite often was the case in my assemblies there was an element of autobiography about both myself and my family several of which on this occasion had featured in previous assemblies – the deep snow I literally disappeared into when only 4 in Germany, the amazing snow encountered a couple of years previously in New York, the Amazonian Rain Forest and recent Brazilian adventure, world music and food and general love of travel, but always coming back, although dreaming about living somewhere else and experiencing another culture!!,  and hopefully things would fall into place for me to neatly slip the bombshell in at the end and beat a hasty retreat for a strong cup of coffee and a box of tissues, had I managed to avoid needing them earlier!!

I got to the end of the story, and needed to go on to the next chapter, so in true teacher fashion, I asked the children who the story had been about.  Hands quickly shot up, the ploy seemed to have worked, and the time had arrived, so I chose a child near the front, who rather threw me by saying “Jamie Oliver” – I guess it was the mention of food!  But, the respite was short lived as the second answer was spot on – “Mr Higgs” and suddenly it dawned on the assembled children that not only was it me, but the next chapter involved me leaving and moving away.  The stunned silence, that seemed interminable, could have ended at least for me in tears, but fortunately the ice was broken by a practical and down to earth question, for Jamie on the back row “Who’s the new head going to be!!”  Thank you Jamie, although seemingly dismissed in a moment, it brought things back to earth with a bump and the difficult bit was over, at least for the   “Where was I going?”, Why was I going?, When was I going?”, How long was I going for?” ......

When in response to this last question I said maybe 5 to 10 years or maybe permanently, Abi’s hand urgently shot up and needed to ask her question quickly – “Is Mrs Higgs going too!?!” – at which several other hands shot up and I was able to say yes she was and pre-empting the next question, yes Max the dog was coming too!  Not surprisingly, as he featured a lot in assemblies, lots of relieved hands went down.  We were then able to talk about Max’s new Dog Passport, before talking about Daniel and Victoria, son and daughter, and how as they were now grown up and with their own lives they wouldn’t move with us, but would hopefully visit often.

So the deed was, I thought, successfully done, until as the youngest children started to file out of the hall and most of them wished me a hearty good-bye, instead of the normal one or two who always did so!  It became apparent that at least the youngest children thought I was off that day and wouldn’t be there in the morning!!  Fortunately, their teachers were able to put them right!!  However, a couple of days later, perhaps when the shock of me still being there had sunk in, one little Year 1 child rushed up to me in the playground all agitated and saying “Mr. Higgs, Mr Higgs, Mr Higgs, you’ll never guess what!?”  To  which I responded, no I doubted if I would ever guess what, to which she informed me: “You’re leaving after Christmas!” – Mission accomplished!

As time went by, there were other rather touching incidents, such as having told the children to try out their French on me and give me some much needed practice, Rhianne would always greet me with Bonjour whenever she saw me and Amali told me his mother was sad I was leaving and that he had cried the night before!!  Another child ran across the playground one day shouting to me “Mr Higgs, Mr Higgs you’re an arsehole!”  Fortunately, when I asked him to repeat what he had said, before admonishing him and explaining that probably wasn’t the best way to address your Headteacher, I realised he had actually said “Mr Higgs, Mr Higgs, you’re awesome!”  Altogether a different sentiment!!  However, one of the children’s mother’s informed one of the members of staff that her friend, another mother would be sad I was leaving “as she had the ‘hots’ for me!!”, perhaps a lucky escape!!

To the parents I wrote:

Dear Parents     Some of you will know about my love of travel and particularly my affinity with France.  For a number of years Linda, my wife and I, have dreamed about going to live in France but until recently this has remained only a dream, but recent circumstances have meant that this is something that we can now, somewhat out of the blue, pursue. It is therefore with a mixture of sadness, excitement and trepidation, that I inform you that I will be leaving Moat School at Christmas and heading over the English Channel or La Manche (which means The Sleeve) as I will have to get used to calling it because the French don’t like it being The English Channel! I will take with me many happy memories of Moat School, Matson and Robinswood and the people I have come into contact with, not least the children who I will miss enormously.  I did take the liberty of telling the children my news, in assembly this morning, as I felt it necessary to tell them personally. Please, rest assured that I will be continuing to work hard on behalf of your children, between now and Christmas, and that the Governors are already working hard to appoint my successor and will keep you all fully informed as time goes by. In the meantime, please excuse me if the French lessons have the desired effect and in an idle moment I greet you in French, better still if you speak French yourself why not try me out – I need all the help I can get!! Best wishes and kind regards

The House! 

For reasons of space and time, this section is going to be curtailed, but there will be lots more in the next missive, suffice to say at this stage we are living in the place, we have the kitchen more or less finished, and the lounge usable, but still needing the floor tiles to be done and some pipes to be boxed in.  The cave is also finished with a little still to do in the workshop and there is a downstairs toilet and washbasin.  Upstairs the bedrooms and study are all but finished and we have a toilet washbasin and shower.  But, for those that have seen it, there remains much still to do – but as we said in the beginning, it’s a long term project.  But, as I write this we are visiting Linda’s family in York having had our first visitors, from York, in the new house (they were set to work, but by request!!), we then went with them to Paris for a few days of glorious sunshine and miles of walking, but a pleasant change from DIY!!  We then brought our visitors back to York and are having what we feel to be a well-deserved rest, whilst planning what we need to do next!!

But, out of order and written before the last paragraph, whilst it is fresh in my mind, and the nose is still running the eyes stinging and watering and the throat sore let me tell you about today’s jobs.  Whilst Linda was glossing the door surrounds and finishing off the upstairs painting, I finally went into the loft to “sort it out!”  Initially, when we had seen the house it wasn’t possible to look into the loft, as when the roof had been replaced and new tongue and groove wooden ceilings put up, they hadn’t left a loft hole.  But, as it is a legal requirement in France and as the electrician would require access for the wiring one of the first jobs was to create a loft hole.  It was also necessary to see what the situation was regarding both insulation and the general state of the roof from the inside.  Having broken through a few days earlier, and tentatively poked my head into the very small void – you never know in France what you might find in the loft!, I had been pleasantly surprised that the roof looked as good from the inside as the outside and when it had been replaced new timbers had been put in as necessary and the loft insulation, although not up to the recommended depth was there and initially didn’t look too bad!

Unfortunately, further inspection showed the small loft to be full of rubbish from the new roof, the insulation very thin and old in the far end and evidence of rife rodent activity.  In the end there was nothing for it but a clear out of the old, then as a precaution bug spraying of the timbers ready for new insulation before the winter.  Hence the runny nose, stinging and watering eyes and the sore throat, as I have started what promises to be a job of several days in a very confined space, getting through gaps in the rafters that were really not designed for me to fit through!!  I have been coming out hyperventilating from a job that is a cross between caving (the confined space, throughout the loft I am unable to sit upright anywhere) and coal mining with the dust from the old roof and decaying insulation, helped by the rodents who thankfully seem to have fled, leaving their dead behind them!!  The curtain like spider’s webs and their enormous occupants just added a “hell-like” quality to the job, and I’m sure if I hadn’t been so tired the stuff of nightmares, particularly as day after day I’ll be returning to my own little “Hole of Calcutta” for some time to come, and being completely covered head to toe, with a face mask and using a head torch to see, just adds to the discomfort!!    

The Garden!

Quite simply all we have done is add rather a lot of rubble to the growing pile that’s there waiting to be used to level the new sitting area, which I feel seems a long way off – sitting that is, the sitting area being merely a distant dream!!  But, it is surprising just how much rubble has accumulated from the few bits we have knocked out of the house – although another session with the electrician jackhammer and one slip and the whole house could have been reduced to a dusty heap of rubble!!  It’s a mighty powerful tool, as well as vibrating fiercely and being incredibly noisy, which could explain why after turning in early I couldn’t keep still, initially driving Linda out of bed to read in the lounge and then on her return me swapping places and having a cup of tea (which often helps on the rare occasions I can’t sleep) and ending up starting to write bits of this missive in the wee small hours “waiting for the sun to rise!”  Sounds like a song title, but tomorrow is nearly a day off, once we’ve fitted the new water heater to the wall, ready for wiring in and the plumbers to connect, we’re off out – but as we told the electricians earlier “Pas de vacance, nous visitez BricoDepot” for the next batch of work – tiles for the kitchen and bathroom walls and some of the floor tiles for downstairs – oh no! more kneeling!!

La Tour arrivée à la weekend!

It arrived and was gone almost in the blink of an eye and to date no-one in the UK spotted my large flag pole sporting two English flags fortunately sandwiching a French tricolour, as the place we had chosen to watch the “caravan” and tour proper go by was also where most of our French neighbours – present and future had also chosen to go!

We had spent the morning working in the house, after waving off two weekend house guests, doing the Vendée start of this year’s Tour; a university friend of our daughter Victoria and a young hitch-hiker, who having just left school, decided that there was no better way to spend the first part of his summer holiday than hitching around Le Tour.  We have just had an email from the latter, Simon, after his return home, having it seems successfully followed Le Tour, and now we are awaiting the detailed account of his exploits!

We however, having over just finally got the key for our new house, needed to work in the house at least for part of the day, stripping out antiquated heating and plumbing systems ready for the artisans to start work the following week, so rather than travelling to see the start and maybe the finish of Day One, the route looping around the Vendée, making the start and finish within easy reach of each other as the riders powered their way along the windy Vendée back roads, we choose a spot very close to our new house, somewhat in the middle of nowhere!!

We had packed a picnic, so having finished work for the morning we set off on the short journey to find the nearby crossroads, to have our lunch and be ready for the arrival first of the caravan – the huge convoy of trade floats that precede La Tour proper and who throw out all sorts of goodies to the spectators they pass!!  We had already decided that if when we arrived there were no other spectators, we would drive to the next village and find some crowds, as we figured it would be better to watch the spectacle in the company of others.  But, we need not have worried as when we got within about a kilometre of our chosen vantage point and despite being in the middle of nowhere, there was hardly a parking space to be found, so squeezing in on the side off the narrow road we took out our folding chairs and picnic and hastily started our lunch, slightly worried that there was a steady flow of people towards the nearby crossroads heralded the imminent arrival of the “caravan.”  However, to finish our picnic quickly proved somewhat difficult as everyone who walked passed us wished us a “bon appetit” to which we had to respond and at times have a short conversation!

But, we need not have worried as we arrived in plenty of time, even with time to greet and meet the many folk we knew from the village who all warmly greeted us like long lost friends, but were a little bemused as I got out a 4 metre fishing rod and tied onto it a French tricoloure sandwiched between a couple of red crosses of St George.  The latter surprisingly caused a degree of confusion, as the English flag wasn’t recognised.

The crossroad we had chosen was closed to traffic by two small metal traffic barriers manned by two gendarmes, who paced up and down keeping an eye on the rapidly enlarging throng, all good natured, enjoying the sunshine and having a jolly good day out, complete with their own refreshments, but all on their best behaviour and obeying, without complaint, the odd instruction issued by the heavily outnumbered policemen!

After a long wait in the sweltering sunshine and a number of false alarms, the “caravan” finally swung into view and battle commenced, as the speeding publicity vehicles passed and threw out a variety of goodies and little old ladies elbowed everyone out of the way to grab the hats, sweets, newspapers, biscuits, packets of coffee etc etc that were either flung to the watching crowds or dropped in front of them depending on their weight.  Certainly it proved to be something of not only a free for all, but also a matter of great pride to amass as large a haul as possible, irrespective of who you trod on along the way – rather reminiscent of the policies of a certain “Iron Lady!”  Maybe it was just that they don’t get out much and the razzamatazz of the occasion was getting to them.  That apart the “caravan” was quite spectacular and floats and publicity vehicles continued to pass for the best part of an hour, many at quite scary speeds as they passed within touching distance of the spectators who were held back by nothing more than a wagging finger, a short whistle blow or just a stern look from one of the two gendarmes, who also tried largely ineffectually to slow down some of the more speedy “caravan” participants.

Sometime after the dust had settled from the last of the publicity vehicle and after a false alarm when a line of helicopters flew passed, the expectant crowd thinking that Le Tour proper had arrived and excitement grew then died down again, before the first group of cyclists were spotted coming around the corner at the end of straight, and in a quite frightening flurry of activity the leading group complete with back up cars completely covered in spare bikes and wheels, and the accompanying motorcycle camera bikes, with photographers and camera men hanging precariously off the back, Le Tour came and went in the blink of an eye, with only a few stragglers following shortly afterwards, including one injured rider holding on to the medics car and being pulled along at great speed whilst a medic hung out of the window treating his wounded leg.  Indeed, there was barely time to take a few photos and wave the pole of flags before it was all over, but we did get a special toot on the horn of the Team Sky car, the only British team in this year’s event and with Bradley Wiggins in their ranks, when they spotted the English flags.

A lot of waiting for a short burst of activity, but we were there and have seen Le Tour live, just a short distance from our new house!  Something to tell the grandchildren!!  We pass the crossroads quite often now and it’s back to a sleepy quiet little road, and unless you were there you wouldn’t believe how busy it was, for that short time on the first Saturday in July 2011!      

“Ici devant nous!”

They certainly were, beating us by about 42 years, but we’re finally in!  Not, I hesitate to add staying in our new house, despite spending most of our waking hours there – no in next door’s cave! A few weeks back, at the end of a particularly hot and wearying day our new neighbour to be appeared in the entrance to his cave, which is just opposite our small sitting area, in which we were tidying away the day’s tools and getting ready to leave for the evening and suggested I might like a beer.  Gratefully, accepting I crossed to be shown into his male domain, Linda following behind not wanting to be left out.  We were shown in, a ledge dusted down for us to sit on and two bottles of beer got from the fridge.  It was then that Linda thought that perhaps she hadn’t actually been included in the invite, but was relieved to find that our host already had one on the go, part drunk and corked obviously his daily ration being eked out during the afternoon!  He then sat on one of the benches along a large trestle that filled the middle of cave, so he could stretch out his leg, having only recently had a new knee and full mobility not yet restored, but enough to allow gardening – digging, hoeing, grass cutting, hedge cutting and using a very heavy duty rotivator!! There followed a pleasant twenty minutes or so, with a far ranging conversation about how long he had lived here, that he had always lived in St Laurent, but that his wife was from a nearby village.  He even appreciated my joke that she had travelled a long way!  We also talked about ourselves, our family, our previous life and a whole host of other topics – all in French, as our neighbour certainly appears to speak not one word of English – moving into civilisation, albeit rather calm and tranquil civilisation, certainly seems to be paying dividends already – nous parlez un petit peu plus Français, c’est necessaire!

We must also have passed the test, and to be invited into his domain was an honour indeed, and one that our near neighbours, Chris and Geoff, an English couple who spent several months in our neighbour’s gîte, whilst their house down the road was renovated, has only been achieved by the Jeff, the male in the partnership!  Mind you I haven’t been invited in since; maybe he’s worried that Linda will tag along again!!    

My original “thought!” 

Bring on the sitting area, as by the time that’s put in we might have a little time to use it – by then no doubt ravished by winter storms!  But, there’s always next year!  Oh no, I got carried away then, there’s Roger’s retreat – to clear not to sit in!!!  C’est la vie, as they say in these parts!!

Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love,      

Roger and Linda

And, next time, in Missive 33 ~ Hard as it may be to believe it at the moment

 this will feature: The Move ~ From hovel to habitable in 45 days!!! 

Not this time from England to France but into our new abode! 

And, Chapter 4 – somewhat incongruously called “Winding Down?”