Sunday, November 6, 2011

Missive 33 The Move!! ~ From hovel to habitable in 45 days!


5th November 2011

(just, as it’s ten past midnight!!, and a Happy Anniversary to my Mum and Dad!)
Dear All

Attached is an absolutely bumper Missive 33, don’t be put off by the size, as in terms of words it’s about average, but there are lots of pictures, as I’ve been promising for some time!!

Because of all the pictures the file is too long to attach as a word document to this email, so I have done it as a pdf file, and will therefore need opening as such.  Be patient, as it might take a while, a but let me know if for any reason you can’t open it and I’ll try to think of something else.

Failing that you could always try viewing it on the blog, where it should appear in due course, although last time when I had photos included, it took me a while to work out how to get it to load. 

Fingers crossed!

Love

 Roger

 rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk

Mes chers amis

The Move! ~ From hovel to habitable in 45 days!! ~ Missive 33

Byrd Baggett

Chinese Proverb

“A goodbye isn't painful unless you're never going to say hello again.”
Author Unknown


“Every goodbye is the birth of a memory.”
Dutch Proverb

Four quotes this time, and maybe I should explain!   The first two seemed apt in regard to moving on and looking forward, particularly in view of mammoth undertaking that we have taken on!  Isn’t it strange, we used to read all those books about people who had “escaped and followed their dreams” and whilst at times feeling quite envious, we couldn’t help but feel that they were rather mad – little did we know that one day we would be following them up the mountain!  But it’s already worth it for the view!

The other two quotes were from a selection I sent to Monsieur from the chateau, once we had found the house and were shortly to move on.  I wanted to tell him personally, as last summer a true friendship had blossomed and although he knew our long term intentions, it seemed polite and “aristocratic” to be up front and not simply fade away into the night like a rogue, vagabond or scoundrel – you may remember Monsieur’s love of words and classification of people into “Aristocrats or rogues et al!” – fortunately, Linda and I were elevated to the ranks of the aristocracy!  That said, we have a wealth of memories of a very happy two years plus, spent in the little house at the end of the drive, and as M. said in his reply to my email: “First of all, I congratulate you to stay in Saint Laurent de la Salle for ever! I shall have, in that case, the pleasure to see you ...for ever! If you had chosen a house in the moon, the song would
have been different!” (sic), so we’ll be saying hello again!

As for France Telecom, I ranted and raved enough last time!  But, just a quickie to update you!  As you have no doubt picked up we are now on-line and fully functioning with a new telephone number (up above if you missed the update!).  Then a few days ago I got a letter from France Telecom and as I carried it into the house I had high expectations that it might be a grovelling apology for on-going and long-term incompetency, but, surprise surprise it was a bill for said incompetency – they wanted to charge us about 170 for a technician who came out to put THEIR mistake right and who said there would be no charge!  Another phone call from Linda, who was told that she should pay it and they would reimburse it over the next three or four bills, and she told them, much to their amazement, that she was only paying those parts of the bill that we did owe and that was that!!  I hesitate to say it, but hopefully that won’t result in us being cut off  – aaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!  I do hope there won’t be anything to report next time!!

Winding Down! ~ Chapter 4

This has ended up as a very incongruous title for this chapter and this part of the story, as how I could have imagined for one minute that leaving a job such as mine at any time, let alone at Christmas, could allow any degree of “winding down” now quite eludes me!!  I guess in an ideal world, I would have given in my notice, and spent the next few months with my office door shut, tying up loose ends, before a sedate period of handing over the reins to my successor, over a few weeks where we either overlapped or at the very least had a good few days to go through all the things that being a Headteacher involves!  But even writing this now nearly three years down the line, elicits the response of “Get Real!” it just doesn’t happen like that in a busy and cash strapped environment of a primary school, where the “product” being turned out are 200 odd children all with a variety of complex needs, “manufactured” by a dedicated team of teachers and support staff, who also have their own variety of needs, of differing levels of complexity and although the production line wouldn’t instantly grind to a halt were the “MD” to shut his office door and ignore what was going on outside, I like to think that I had my uses!!  What I’m really trying to say is that, despite the attempt by various “powers that be” to inflict business / manufacturing practices onto schools, they don’t as a rule fit very easily into an ever changing, vibrant environment, where from one day to the next the “product” keeps changing and never ceases to amaze you with what they do, be it good or bad!!  You arrive each day on the “factory floor” not knowing what will have happened and where you might end up as the day finishes, however carefully planned you are!


Shutting the door and winding down, just wasn’t an option, as not only were there the day to day activities to carry out, be they mundane things like; playground duty, dinner duty, staff meetings, parents’ evenings, meetings with outside agencies, the list is endless, or the unexpected like; a blocked toilet (yes, without a full time caretaker such things often fall to the Headteacher), an upset child or one having a bad day, a member of staff taken ill or with a family crisis – again a never-ending list, and as I’ve said many a time never a dull day, but also Christmas doesn’t go by unnoticed in a Primary School!!


This meant there were all the usual things and as always a long list: Christmas Fayre, Christmas Production (for which I was the lighting engineer – yet another thing on the job description!), Children’s Christmas Dinner (Washer up and construction of the most outlandish hat!), Service at St Katharine’s Church (Readings and Order of Service), Nativity in the woods (cameraman and general helper as you can’t beat a day in the woods, despite a hundred and one things to do in the office!),  Christmas Parties, Christmas Disco (hotdog purchaser and cook!), so all in all normally an extra busy time for all!


But, although I didn’t expect people to particularly make a razzmatazz about my departure, those of you who know me well, will know that I wasn’t going to go quietly!!  For some time I had been thinking about what I should do for my swansong and had been mulling around and jotting down a number of ideas, which with “the end” in sight needed to be planned fairly quickly before I was picked up in the Christmas rush and rushed headlong into departure before I was good and ready.  So it was at one of our weekly SMALT meetings (Senior Management and Learning Team – someone on high had miraculously decided that schools were places of learning, so in due deference to the powers that be we decided to rechristen our SMT!!), that I broached the subject of my fading away gracefully without a fuss!  I told my management team that I had a few ideas and they said that they had also been thinking of one or two ideas, so to be polite I let them go first.  They suggested a weekend Staff Walk and Lunch for me to organise. A whole school Christmas Walk up Robinswood Hill that overlooks the back of the school and they thought it would be great if I did some French cooking with some of the children!!  I then produced my list which was almost exactly the same except for the last item where I replaced some with all of the children, but more of that in a bit.  I had obviously been at Moat School too long and it was time to move on, as the staff knew exactly what I was thinking!!


So a few more things for the list, and briefly a great staff walk took place and it was really touching that virtually everyone turned up despite the day being a little cold and damp, and I think a good time was had by all.  The whole school walk was as always great fun and not as wet as the most memorable of these, when as we were all picnicking on the far side of Robinswood Hill a few drops of rain fell and I was heard to say “rain what rain?, what a fuss about nothing!”  Then within twenty minutes or so, just long enough for us to get to the top of the hill, we had the heaviest downpour I have ever experienced in the UK, of true tropical monsoon proportions, and we were quite literally washed off the top of the hill slipping and sliding all the way back to school, with at least one member of staff careering into a nettle patch and no-one arriving back at school with anything dry – fortunately, despite the weather it was summer and not too cold, and despite the staff swearing never to go walking with me again (as well as swearing at me quietly under their breaths!!), it was the walk everyone always remembered and fondly talked about, and there were several more!!


Then there was the French food!  Rather that cooking up a few croissants or the odd French Fancy, I had decided to invite all the children and staff to a three course French meal, in Restaurant Perroquet that was to be set up in one of the classrooms that had recently been fitted out with a cooking area and quite a lot of cooking utensils.  As you may imagine, a fairly standard English classroom would be hard pushed to accommodate 200 odd people for dinner, so I had decided that each of the school’s four teams and associated staff would be invited to four separate dinners with upwards of 45 people at each.  The menu was planned (see below) and a captive workforce enlisted – the children and some of the staff! - who under my supervision were to prepare the food that they then sat down to eat instead of school dinners.  Basically, a great time was had by all and as each meal came and went the chef’s outfit’s became more and more outlandish and by the end as the children shouted “Yes Chef” to my barked orders, which in the heat of the moment and the kitchen I had to remember not to do my Gordon Ramsey impersonation, they were looking at me in my trendy multi-coloured hippy trousers, loud shirt and red pirate headscarf, someone once said I wasn’t your average Headteacher and I can’t think why!!

Le Restaurant Perroquet ~ Chambre Twyver
(The Parrot Restaurant ~ Twyver Room)
(pour 40 personne)
(for 40 people)
**********
Omelette fine herbes
(Fine herb omelette)
**********
Tranche de rôtir fillet de porc avec cassoulet lentille
(Sliced roast pork fillet with lentil casserole)
**********
Tarte pomme avec crème fraîche
(Apple Tart with crème fraîche)
**********
“vin” rouge et “vin” blanc
(red and white “wine”)
**********
Tuesday 11th November 2008    ~   Maple Team
Wednesday 19th November 2008  ~  Oak Team
Tuesday 25th November 2008   ~    Ash Team
Thursday 27th November 2008   ~   Thorn Team
Salut et merci beaucoup!

At Christmas we always had a Staff Evening out and this had been duly arranged at a local hotel.  It was on a particularly miserable night, but we more than made up for it inside and pleasant things were said about me, but I was prepared, not with a box of tissues, although it was a close run thing at times!, no I had written an action poem, the first surprise, featuring everyone there, complete with props and dressing up items, the expression on the waitress’s face was priceless and we all went home happy, but with the end in sight!


Then, there was the next surprise, although not totally unexpected when during one of the assemblies in the last week, I did one of my near legendary pantomimes, well the staff and I did a pantomime, but they hadn’t been told before and simply got given a script, a bag containing a costume and the rest was left to chance.   As always, in true panto fashion, I was the leading lady (and contrary to popular believe these pantomimes were virtually the only time I dressed up in women’s clothing!!) and usually got “married” at the end to the Headteacher when I was deputy and the deputy when I was head – Oh yes I did!! 


The next surprise was for me as the very next day, the staff held their own surprise panto and yes I was the panto dame and the butt of all the jokes as well as receiving not one but several custard pies towards the end, they must have known there wasn’t time for disciplinary procedures before I was due to leave the country.  But, the tables were well and truly reversed and they had even managed to secretly practise their parts, it wasn’t until afterwards that I understood the significance of so many shouts of “He’s behind you!” as I wandered around the school on mundane matters such as checking the temperature of the water in the children’s washrooms – not as you may think to prevent them scalding themselves, Health and Safety insisted I put up a sign in the staff washrooms saying “Caution, Hot Water may be HOT!!” but not in the children’s!!  No it was to check the temperatures were within the desired range to stop the build up of legionella, the bug that causes legionellosis!  Did I mention that on the job description!


With the end of term virtually upon us, there were few other surprises, except on the last afternoon, but you’ll have to wait for that one until next time.  That said, although I knew about the after school tea party, my deputy feeling she should invite me in case I went off somewhere else and left everyone eating the cakes, drinking the tea and talking amongst themselves, some of the visitors who came were a surprise and at times like that you start to think about what you will shortly be leaving behind and wondering if you’ve done the right thing.  This was particularly evident when I gave the speech I had prepared earlier, in French as well as in English, not knowing that the school’s peripatetic French teacher would be there – from the cringes on her face, it was apparent that my French had some way to go!!


So much for winding down, but the end was looming rather frighteningly and rapidly, and then there was the last formal communication to parents and I quote:

And finally ~ Au revoir from Mr. Higgs

Dear All

As my final day at Moat looms it’s becoming harder and is not helped when; walking down the corridor the other day, one of the children whispers to me “I’m sad that you’re leaving!” and others say things like you will send us a postcard or come in and tell us how you’re getting on!  And, now my final Newsletter to you all.

The last nearly eight years have been an incredible journey, starting with two schools and ending up with one, that I am very proud to have been associated with.  Sometimes this journey seems to have gone by with breakneck speed until I reflect on all that has happened during that time, none of which could have happened without working alongside an amazing group of colleagues, who have an energy and drive (all for the well-being of your children) that never ceases to amaze me.  These colleagues have also been great fun to work with and through their untiring support; my job has been made very easy!

Then, there are the children who I will miss the most; their genuine warmth and good nature have made getting up and coming to school in the morning so worthwhile.  Thank you to all of them for also helping to make my time at Moat so memorable!

Also, thank you, for all your support and friendship over the years, and I look forward to receiving news from Moat, Matson and Robinswood and beyond as the children move through the school and become equipped for the wider world and hopefully a great future. 

And …… finally, my reply to the whisper in the corridor …… “I’m also very sad to be leaving, but also excited about the adventures that lie ahead,” also whispered and somewhat wistfully, and yes I’ll certainly let you know how we’re getting on!

Love and best wishes, as well as a Happy Christmas  

Roger M. Higgs


The House! 

For this section it is where to start as well as where to finish, as this part alone could quite easily make the basis for several average sized missives!  Well as the title of this missive confirms, we went from a hovel with unsafe electrical installations and basic, very ancient and filthy plumbing to being able to live in the house, albeit without a shower or a kitchen sink and using a temporary “camp kitchen” set up in the cave, which in this instance isn’t underground but on the ground floor behind the kitchen, for the first week or two!  Washing up necessitated using an “outside” tap in the workshop and boiling a kettle, and friends came to our rescue in matters of personal hygiene, I think they got a whiff when we invited them around for a coffee for them to see the progress we had made on the house!  In fact we were already using their Wi-Fi and telephone to badger France Telecom and keep in touch with the outside world, so a glass of wine or two and a shower were logical extras to be offered by this first rate “Cyber Cafe!!!”

Unfortunately, due to it being August and France largely shutting down for “vacance,” when we returned from York in mid August expecting the electrical and plumbing work to have been finished, we had a bit of a surprise, but once the project manager returned from his holiday and a few days later and realised that nobody was chasing things up in his absence, experience telling us that this is not uncommon!  But, he was furious and pulled out all the stops to get the final tidying up and hole filling finished so we could fit the sink, shower and second, downstairs toilet.  However, all in all we were very pleased with the work done by the electricians and plumbers, although initially they moved in a little like a demolition squad, knocking large holes in our very thick walls and giving the general structure of the house a thorough working over!  For the first few days of the 45 (from officially getting the key) our efforts to do anything consistently were rather thwarted by having to work around the artisans, but we soon established a routine, finding out which bits of our house we could work on so as to be out of the workmen’s way, whilst giving them strict instructions to tell us to “ALLEZ, ALLEZ” should we be in their way, after all without water and electricity we would have been kyboshed as regards a move at the end of August.  As it happened, with the limitations mentioned above , we moved in a couple of days before the end of the month, allowing us to clean through the emptied La Loge, for a few days, before cracking on again with the new abode.  That bit was really rather frustrating, as we had moved and needed to concentrate on moving forwards, but also needed to leave the old house in a suitable state to have our deposit returned, handy for buying a few more tins of paint, rolls of insulation or the like!!

Now, having been in 65 days of which we have spent 3 in Paris enjoying fantastic late summer sunshine, 15 in the UK much of it in the same sunshine and have had visitors for 26 days (thank you Anne and Steve and Maggie and Bryan for forgetting that holidays are meant for relaxing!) leaving only 21 days in our new house on our own working!!  Indeed, Saturday evening was the first time it had just been the two of us for dinner for nearly 8 weeks, but it’s great to see people and it helps to keep us sane and showing people around also helps to remind us of all we have done, much of it not always apparent; fitting lights, the plumbing under sinks and showers, the toilets, a bit of beading here or there, a replaced pane of glass, filling or sealing cracks etc. etc. etc. etc. and some more – much of it very time consuming particularly when it was jobs we have never undertaken before!  I guess you are beginning to get the picture, which makes me think that perhaps the best way to let you know how things are coming on is to show you, as words fail me!, so there follows some before and after pictures, which at least tell a part of the story, what they don’t seem to show, looking at them again, is the dirt and squalor of the before pictures after 5 years of non-habitation and a good few years before that of existing rather than living!!



The Cave, note the wine racks went in rather quickly and in the foreground is work in progress!


 The kitchen, yellow and blue, loosely based on Monet’s dining room at Giverney!


The “French Room” We inherited the armoire in the first picture with the house, it was too big to get out of the room so now, with a good degree of huffing and puffing, it is now to the left of this photo!







The Study with Linda hard at work on the right, probably checking the France Telecom bill!  Also from where this and future missives will be transmitted, via cyberspace, to you France Telecom permitting!
Our bedroom with fan strategically placed for those hot balmy nights, but the heater is about
to go in should the weather turn cold!

The upstairs bathroom created out of a sort of loft space at the end of upstairs, there is also a new WC and washbasin in the cubicle on the left of the first picture.
The downstairs loo, and yes it is a urinal in the first picture now replaced with a washbasin, but carefully removed for posterity – it’s going to have a plant in it in our new hidden courtyard!

From these I think you get the idea, however finally ... the view from our “new” roof garden, above our hidden courtyard garden, with the roof of the next door gîte in the foreground. The Secret Garden was one of my favourite books as a child, that and the Arthur Ransome Swallows and Amazons Series, all about adventures and creating dens – a bit like history repeating itself!!:


But, there is rather a lot to do before we can sit and enjoy the view!!
One day this will be our hidden walled courtyard, complete with outside urinal!!  You may just be able to spot it, waiting to go up, by the post under the ladder!


So, as you will see we have made some progress with, as you see above lots still to do, but with a view like that above it’s worth waiting for!!

Not wanting to start a new section, a quick update on The Garden: the compost bin, water butt and washing line are all in and being used, Linda has done quite a bit of planting and the final corner that hasn’t been cleared has been trimmed up considerably so we can see where we are.  But the most important news is that the caravan is in the garden, on the hard standing that we constructed for it.  It was a bit of a struggle and may never come out again, but it meant we were completely out of La Loge and the caravan is not causing a nuisance for the new tenant that seems to have moved in!  The fun will start in the spring when we try to get it out again!!  

Oh la la!

Someone nearby has caught both my eye and more importantly my imagination, and this person for reasons of confidentiality will assume a false name and carry the caveat, that events and persons herein mentioned are fictitious and any resemblance to living individuals is purely coincidental!!

So starts the story, or should that be secret tryst, of Enrique, as hot-blooded a Frenchman as you might find anywhere between Biarritz and Lille, or indeed Brest and Nice and I use the last two places quite intentionally because he certainly knows a nice one when he sees one!!  They do say that it is often the quiet one’s that you should watch, but there’s nothing quiet about Enrique, not least because he is slightly deaf and consequently plays the love songs of Charles Aznavour at a volume that would deafen most people and indeed stroll passed his house and even with the window’s tightly shut, your ears might be assailed, if not assaulted, by such gems as “Avant de t'aimer” or “Before I loved you”!!!  
 Avant de t'aimer, je croyais que les femmes étaient des églises
Comme aux quatre coins de Venise et qu'on pouvait les visiter
Avant de t'aimer, je disais qu'elles n'étaient que gourmandise
Comme le sont les friandises et qu'on pouvait les partager
     
Which roughly translates as:
Before I loved you, I thought that women were churches
Like you find at the four corners of Venice, and that you could visit them
Before I loved you, I said that they were nothing but sweets
Like bonbons, and that you could share them

I hear you say “They don’t write them like that anymore!” to which I also hear you respond: “Thank Goodness!!”  Interestingly, ideas of love and even friendship seem to have moved on in modern day France, and in the book I’m reading at the moment – “An Englishman in Paris L’éducation continentale” by Michael Sadler, which is described by HRH Prince Charles as “Wonderfully amusing”, has a very amusing chapter in which friendship between men and women in France is discussed. Amongst other pieces, some of which might not be suitable for the sensibilities or moral scruples of my readership, suggests that; “... friendship between a man and a woman is only possible after penetration” and this discussion takes place at a dinner party at which the author is, at this early stage in the book, a relative stranger!  But, I digress!!

This does give you the idea that Enrique could be an old romantic or maybe simply too hard of hearing to be able to make out the lyrics, let alone the sentiments, perhaps he just likes the melody!!  However, he is also rather racy and prone to over revving - the engine of his car that is, again I suspect a byproduct of his deafness, but making it very noticeable when he passes and alerting you to his comings and goings

Hot blooded he may be, but seemingly alone, that is until his revving engine alerted us to his departure, but despite being in all day wasn’t heard again that day, despite the fact that his shutters remained open and there wasn’t a light to be seen.  I could only conclude that he hadn’t sneaked back undetected, come back in a taxi either the worst for wear or having had a mishap / breakdown in the car, but that the absence was not planned, and perhaps due more to a fertile imagination than anything else the result of his luck being in and friendship consummated!!  Unfortunately, it seemed as though it were to be short lived, as early the next morning the revving engine and grinding gears could be heard traversing the valley and back to his own abode and more importantly his own lonely bed.

Several days went by and I could only assume that love and indeed friendship hadn’t blossomed and he could once again be heard playing his collection of Charlie’s love songs, perhaps, although my ability to translate quickly made it impossible to tell, particularly those of unrequited love.  On the contrary, there I may be wrong, as only a few days later, with the car working overtime, he left the valley obviously on a promise of friendship as the shutters were carefully closed and too date, several days later the valley hasn’t reverberated to the sounds of Enrique, be it racing combustion engine or rapidly turning black plastic disc!  I do however think that on his return, the song may have gone up a little in tempo or at least sentiment!!

 L'amour c'est comme un jour:

Le soleil brille à pleins feux, Mais je ne vois que tes yeux
La blancheur de ton corps nu, Devant mes mains éperdues
Viens, ne laisse pas s’enfuir, Les matins brodés d’amour
Viens, ne laisse pas mourir, Les printemps, nos plaisirs
Or more or less precisely: Love is like a day:
The sun shines full of fire, But I just see your eyes
The whiteness of your naked body, In front of my passionate hands
Come, don't let run away, The mornings embroidered of love
Come, don't let die, The spring, our pleasures

And who said romance was dead!!!  I’ve finished the book mentioned above and wonder if Enrique finally went the full course whilst explaining the rules of cricket to his new mate, or should that be batting partner, the author of the book did!!  Watch this space!!

La réponse est Troene, or The answer is Troene!

But I hear you all collectively say – Quelle est la question or What is the question?  Well, those of you who have visited us over the last few months may remember and indeed become embroiled in earnest discussion both about the colour of the green shutters of the gîte opposite our new house and/or what colour our own shutters will be when we get around to it!

Well, the long and short of it was that I was all for a calming countryside green and Linda wanted an altogether out of place marine style blue, you can tell I’m biased!!  I’ve got to say I rather dug my foot in, being as we are in the heart of the French countryside and would have been the first to put my oar in had we been remotely anywhere near the sea, as I felt strongly that marine blue was for a pretty white cottage next to the sea!  At times emotions ran high as we searched the colour charts for something on which we could agree, and that would truly reflect the rural nature of our new house!!  These searches were largely in vane as Linda was to be found in the blue aisle and I was in the green and it seemed that never the twain would meet and the existing cream shutters would go quietly shabby chic!!

But, those of you who know me well will vouch for the fact that I’m a reasonable fellow and as Linda pointed out cream hardly makes a statement, and so for reasons of marital bliss, I happened to point out a greyey-blue wooden house nearby and started the ball rolling with a that’s not a bad colour.  At least it started the conversation as at that point we were sitting next to each other in the car and not in different aisles of one of the numerous DIY shops that we currently frequent on rather a regular basis!!  At this point, remember the nuptial harmony, the fact that I felt it wasn’t a bad colour for the side of a sleek sail boat was immaterial, the seed was set for a move away from blue to grey-blue to ......

Then it happened, we were approaching a roundabout it took all my driving skills to avoid a collision with a Toyota Yaris that was coming around the roundabout, as we both “to a person” pointed at it excitiedly and said that’s the colour – agreement at last.  So it was that a decision was made and we settled for grey-blue, well I did, Linda settled for blue-grey, so near harmony was established and it at least meant we were in the same aisle when looking at the colour charts and we, after much soul searching and many visits narrowed it down to a paint at Mr Bricolage, erroneously called “bleu petrole” despite being clearly on the grey side of the petrol spectrum, but maybe the “paint name executive” lived near the sea and had a penchant for blue or was simply grey phobic! 

All this could have been academic, as painting the shutters was low on the list of priorities, until two things happened almost simultaneously; first the fenêtre de la cuisine (kitchen window), the only downstairs shutters, were in danger of falling apart which meant we had to purchase some new ones in bare wood, but that alone was not enough to send us to the paint department of Mr Bricolage.  It was more the second event that had us hastening to the paint tins, as visitors last week, good friends Maggie and Bryan from Stroud, desperate to help with the house preparations noticed that the window surrounds that had been painted a very light greyey-blue were not only flaking but also in places in need of a bit of repair and restoration.  The filler and mortar were duly mixed and the smart new flake and hole free surrounds were simply crying out for a nice new coat of paint.  So armed with a large flake or two of the existing colour off we went to match that and to buy the wrongly labelled “blue petrole” paint. 

If there is a “saviour” for those people about to purchase large quantities of paint, they came to our rescue at this point, as the only tins available were 500ml at 15 a throw, a rather strange expression as at that price we certainly wouldn’t be throwing it around!!  But, for a little over 40 we could, had they had any in stock, have purchased 2.5 litres a huge saving I’m sure even the most mathematically challenged of you would agree!  So we decided to wait and go on to the next shop, primarily to try and match the paint for the surrounds, as Mr B had nothing suitable, as well as purchasing the odd other few items that would keep us busy over the next few days, and our nearest enormous Brico Depot, a French version of B & Q Depot and with the same owners, seemed a good bet.  For reasons of nostalgia we decided to repeat the previous several attempts to find a suitable colour for the shutters, we had been to so many places looking we had lost the plot and kept looking in the same places, and then it happened again that seminal moment when we both looked, saw, internalised and agreed and for good measure it was around 40 for FIVE litres and mixed to order!!!  It was just a case of checking that it wasn’t sold in 5 litre tins and 40 PER LITRE a trick that is not uncommon in French DIY shops.  But no, it was indeed a bargain and duly mixed and in the chariot (trolley) before you could say ... oh the colour, well that’s the answer – Troene, a sort of statement making greyey-blue, or bluey-grey if you’re asking Linda!!  I’ve just looked up the Toyota website and discovered the colour we both really wanted is “magnetic grey metallic” – c’est la vie!

Before I forget, we also found an exact match for the window and door surrounds, again one to be mixed and with another typical French quirk barely much more for ten litres than five and it’s now looking very smart on the downstairs of the front of our house, the upstairs being in much better condition and matching perfectly, and waiting for the Troene shutters to finish the statement. Oh, and the colour: 718460 RC 198 gris d’angou 8 100% facade pilolite, but being a reasonable man I’d say it was nearer to pale egg shell blue than grey!!

Just thought that perhaps I should look up Troene in the French dictionary and I must say was just a little surprised to find it means privet, now ...... who was it that wanted green!!!     

Ici devant nous!”

Yesterday was T-Day for us in France, or for my English readers R or T-Day, T in French for toit or tuiles or roof and tiles for the monolinguists amongst you, and my spell check would have me believe I have just “invented” a new word which I believe to be self explanatory!

Yes, with the two months for viewing and objections, well and truly elapsed since we put out the planning notice and the last of this year’s visitors left to return to the UK, we couldn’t put off the roof renovations – to the dependancies (outbuildings) any longer as we want to have then finished for the first visitors of next year.  But, on looking back to previous missives, I fear I have jumped the gun slightly here.  The roof over the house, cave and workshop is sound and fairly recent, but wrapped around one side and part of the front of the house is a barn, animal byre and a garage with stout stone walls but suspect roof.  In a moment of divine inspiration I solved the problem, at least in principle, of only having a small and rather public courtyard in front of the house and rather close to our neighbour’s bedroom window over the road.  So potentially a problem on those long balmy evenings, as the neighbours go to bed early, rise early and seem never to stop during the waking hours, making the public nature of the existing courtyard a further problem should we ever get the time for a leisurely cup of tea or indeed time to sit in the sunshine and read a book!

We decided that we would, and we being the operative word, as house renovation comes quite expensive and the more we can do ourselves the better, even if it is things we have never tried before – it’s amazing what time, money (or lack of it) and a bit of ingenuity can do, take off the roof and replace it only on the barn and garage, leaving the byre open to the sky whilst retaining the walls.  We were to create our own hidden courtyard or secret garden behind the garage, which in turn is to be turned into a summer kitchen and covered terrace for when the sun is too hot or the endless hot days have built into a thundery evening and it is too wet to eat outside but too sultry to eat in! Sorted!

Well not quite, not only is there the little problem of; removing the tiles, saving the best and using the old broken ones as infill for the very uneven floor, sorting out any rotten timbers, tiling the top of the courtyard wall and then reroofing the barn and garage area, there was also the problem of obtaining the proper and correct permissions to allow such work to be carried out.  Extensive research by Linda identified the project as “minor works” needing a form to be obtained from the Mayor and for this to be filled in, returned to the Mayor for approval by the local council, which assuming it was granted then requires the above mentioned planning notice to be displayed for two months before work commences and to stay in place until the work has been completed.  The permission lasts for two years before needing renewal, but for reasons stated above we were keen to get started.  Then once completed a further form has to be completed to let the Mayor know the work is finished and allow the Council to inspect if they so wish!  

We got the form without too much trouble and due to the minor nature of the work (although at the moment it doesn’t feel all that minor!!) it was a relatively easy form to fill in, but interestingly needed to be accompanied by photographs of the affected area as well as photographs of the finished work, before both permission was granted and the work commenced!!!  A tall order you might think and one that relies solely on retrospective planning applications, but not so, web research had solved the problem – submit two sets of the same photographs and on the second by use of a hi-tech drawing system, namely a black pen, draw on the area to be affected by the works.  And, it worked!!!  In a relatively short space of time we had a full copy of our application returned, liberally stamped and signed by the Mayor giving us permission to go ahead.

Hence T-Day, the start of the work, but why is this section entitled “Here before us!”?  Well, obviously the planning procedure was here before us and like much of French bureaucracy seems to have undergone over the years a process of complification (another new word!) rather than simplification.  No, it’s been a long winded way of arriving at it but it’s the tiles that were here before us, and with a long and distinguished history to boot!  Most of the tiles on our dependancies are of a Roman design that has changed very little over the centuries and although some are more modern replacements; replacing those that had become damaged over the years.  But, many are the original handmade tiles that would have been on the roof when it was first constructed and indeed it is these very old tiles that seem to have weathered better that their modern replacements. The tiles in question are those that are a bit like half a cone with the point cut off and are laid alternatively curved up or down, making a heavy and effective weather tight roof.  Traditionally these tile were, as I said before, manmade with a rectangle of clay rolled into a shallow mould and then the distinctive tapering curve created by the tile maker bending them over their thigh, and from the many hundred we have removed over the last two days I can tell you that the tile makers of yesteryear, who were here long before us had some very funny shaped thighs!!       

My original “thought!” 

I’m a little worried, first there was An Englishman in Paris, the book mentioned above, with a torrid sex scene featuring the rules of cricket!!  Then the very next book I select, Tuscany for Beginners, Love and War in a Hot Climate by Imogen Edwards-Jones, starts off with a further torrid sex scene between the main character’s husband and best friend and next door neighbour (one and the same person I hasten to add!).  But actually, in both cases the books will be more memorable for the recipes and food depicted – maybe I should be worried!!  
Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love,      

Roger and Linda

And, next time, in Missive 34 ~ Further adventures of Hameau Tranquille ~ Le homme
 avec le pinceau  and, Chapter 5 – “Reality!!”   

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Missive 32 ~ Every bit of me aches!!

29th 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?”