Stripping, cycling, unexpected visitors, camp fires and destruction

July 26, 2016

Thick Paint

Stripping and painting metal shutters is usually a rewarding task, as one may gaze in wonder and self-satisfaction when the upgraded shutters are in place. But the activity is not without its complications; I wear goggles to protect my eyes from the multiple lead paint chip bombardment, but if I choose to breathe through my mouth at any point, the law of Nigel ensures that lead paint chips will enter my mouth and then have to be removed before ingestion. I also end up with a lead paint chip smattered body, requiring repeated cold hosing-downs. Not so bad in these temperatures...

Paint Station

Stripping Station

I've just got to the end of my first tin of Bleu Turquin, and I did note that it was getting thick and sticky. I persevered, however, and produced the monstrosity below to the left. I added a smidgin of white spirit to the tin, and, hey presto, I produced the smoothest finish on the shutter on the right. This means that I will have to wait for shutter #1 to dry before giving it a hearty rub down. Tin 2 is now open, so it will be okay in the end...

Cycling

We did it. We went for a bike ride to St Salvadour, and we didn't get off and push at every steep incline.

We see this intriguing monument fairly frequently while driving past in the car. This is the first time we've actually stopped and looked at it.

Time for a cold beer at La Ferme Du Leondou

On yer bike!

Humble cross at the junction of the D173 and the road to St Salvadour

When we returned, exhausted and smelly, from our bike ride, we found a car parked in our drive! We roamed our property, looking for the owner, to no avail... We set up a little spy camp behind the long grass... Who could have had the temerity to block our entrance?!

We eventually roamed further up the lane to Alain and Brigitte's house, and who did we find? The owner of the car! It was Madame Meynerol, who sold us the property last year. She had arrived to see us at the same time as Alain and his family; we never receive visitors until we're out!

I wouldn't have dared to return to my car if I'd seen Kevin lurking so passively aggressively- I'd have set up my own little spy camp on the other side... until he'd gone away!

We all adjourned chez nous. Madame Meynerol speaks very quickly, and my clearly not understanding her does not slow her down. At least, on this occasion, my French had improved enough to be able to question her meaning and to proclaim ignorance (generally...).

Monsieur and Madame Meynerol took a very slow tour of cottage #1, Madame proclaiming our hard work and good taste, and Monsieur lamenting the passing of so many old things. He told us the holly tree we'd recently dispatched was a mighty beast of over 150 years' growing. He also told us that he used to climb on the roof to shoot birds out of it... The yew trees are three hundred years old, he told me, perhaps worried that they might be next on our hit list (they're not on our land...). He dabbed at my half-scraped shutter with his pocket knife, 'I painted these thirty years ago...'. He told me that I should not be scraping with a sharp chisel, that I should be dunking then in a bath of solvent. I explained that solvent is quite expensive these days. Madame complimented the new blue. Monsieur reminded Kevin about the strength and quality of the oak rafters (half of which he's cut out and replaced). He stamped on our newly tiled bathroom floor and asked what was holding it up. He told us our sitting room floor would be difficult to sand down as it was very hard chestnut. He was right about that! The entire party seems to regret our decision to do away with the open fire in the kitchen for the sake of a range.

They were both impressed by my little vegetable patch, telling me that the land here is very fertile. Monsieur fiddled with my garden tap and left it on for me to find the next morning. Yes, it's metered. The vegetables are happy!

I really do love their visits, and they promise many more. Madame Meynerol was born and raised here, but it was just her brother left here in the end, after over three hundred years of their family farming the land. If I were Madame M, I too would be interested in the activities of the new 'English' owners.

Camp Fire

We were honoured to be invited to participate in a camp fire evening chez A and B. A whole evening of drama, songs and games had been carefully planned by the oldest grandchild, Paul. A fab evening was topped off with toasted marshmallows and star-gazing!

Destruction

We needed to put in another door, so another thick wall had to be destroyed!

Window cavity. The handle of that hammer is a piece of tree.

Just after the destruction began, the wind turned. The newly cleaned kitchen became powdered with a thick layer of brick dust. Shall I put up a tarpaulin, he said. Yep.