Workin' 9 to 5 (No, it's actually 8am to 10pm)

We have a deadline. And there is no deadline as tight and important as your closest family arriving on booked flights. Well, I guess that's not strictly true from a worldwide perspective. But, for us, and for our main motivation to work like loonies, nothing is more effective than the imminent arrival of the brood. But good renovation work takes time and patience. 

I've been watching this paint blister in the cracks of the front door so that I can scrape it off. The arty part of me still maintains that this is a good 'finished' look, but Madame Sensible says no- the mayor will visit and think it's not done. The mayor's potential visit is another motivation for creating a good finish.

I've found that I can tape and joint in seconds now. It used to take me an absolute age! It really is just a double swipe, one to fill, one to scrape off the excess. I'm (not so) secretly proud! To be fair, the actual plastering of the joins does take a bit more time, plaster paste and care.

One job I've not previously attempted is cutting rolls of insulation in half with a saw. Kevin made it look tricky, so I avoided it. He was out helping a friend with something this week and I found myself with no alternative but to do it. It was sweaty work, but, look, I did it!

I also made brackets using snipped off pieces of metal wall track. Apparently, it's good practice to bracket out the mid sections of metal wall frame to stop the wall 'bouncing'. I had to use two different drills and two different types of screw. And for the first time in my life, I had to use rawl plugs. Since I've been using the tin snips, Kevin keeps complaining that they've gone all stiff. Evidently, I treat tools like I treat shoes. I can wear out a pair of good (expensive) leather boots in just a few months. I'm not sure how I do it, but it's a personal failing that I'm able to recognise. It's been a long-standing issue. I remember using my Dad's razor ONCE to shave under my arms when I was a hirsute teenager- he knew! He came roaring out of the bathroom after trying to shave, dripping blood from his face, demanding to know who'd touched his razor. As I said, I don't know what I do...

The big drill didn't make it. The third bracket attempt defeated it. I left it lying there for Kevin to discover. Can you guess what happened when he saw it and picked it up? It recovered! Yay!

I bought some new paint stripper to help me with this bit of glazing above the front door. I was wearing a mask and goggles, because the paint has a high lead content, but the paint stripper fumes got through. I felt decidedly giddy up on my steps! How I didn't ram my scraper through one of those 'fragile as sugar-work' glass panels, I cannot fathom.

Polly was concerned, momentarily...

My next job is to paint this end of cottage #1. Look at its vacant face. Its pokey little eyes. I resent this end of the cottage. The worrying thing about this end of the cottage is the degree of curve outwards at the top of the wall. It makes us think that the whole cottage could just fold over like a house of cards. It might. Maybe the plan for a big upstairs window and Juliet balcony will have to be adjusted...

Yesterday, we finally found a mower we were happy with. We realised that it was not realistic for me to continue to mow eight acres by hand, so we'd been looking out for a sit-on mower for ages. We'd looked on e-bay and Bon-Coin, the French equivalent. We'd looked on AngloInfo, an expat website with some good classified ads. We'd looked at new ones in the DIY stores, and secondhand ones at various 'motoculture' workshops. All to no avail. But, while visiting friends in Masseret, we accidentally noticed Masseret Motoculture and Kevin decided to stop and look. I was reluctant. I thought the people there looked a bit scary. I told him I didn't want to talk about mowers in French any more. I stayed in the van. Inevitably, within five minutes, Kevin came to get me, as he needed help with communicating in French. 

We bought Red Jon! He's a lawn tractor, rather than a lawn mower. We managed to look poor and puzzled (because we were...), and were able to agree a fair cash price. I liked the man there. He gave us a three month guarantee, and the mower had a good amount of petrol in it. He had serviced it and replaced things like the battery, the filter, the blades... He's a Jonsered LT2119A, (the mower, not the nice man) and yes, I've already downloaded and printed off the owner's manual.

 Kevin tempts Red Jon out of the minibus.

I've been busy removing turf from the 'allotment' and replanting it on the bare patches where the fosse trenches are. I still have much to do, but...

Red Jon has tempted me away!

Kevin drinks beer and wears sunglasses when he mows. I wear my Hadlow School fleece, possibly the cosiest item of clothing known to man. I never wore it at school, but it's really come into its own in rural France.

We've had to install a secret bracket behind this wall so that our television is supported adequately.

Kevin has been busy constructing an ever increasingly imposing network of metal frames to accommodate gaps, beams, windows and electrics. He amazes me.