The French Renovation

I've needed to mow and then re-mow in order to return the upper field area to its previous near golfability status, and it continues to grow at its extraordinary April/May super-rate! Can we really afford that much petrol? No. Do we want to use a scythe to cut it? No. Do we own a scythe? Yes. Do we need sheep? Probably. You'd be horrified if you knew how much I love my ride-on mower... And so the construction of the terrace begins. As you can see, the land at the back of cottage #1 is quite sloped, so our first step is to build a wall to retain the hard-core and gubbins in the form of a rectangular level surface. Our friend Malcolm, as you may remember, brought his digger to help begin the flattening operation, but, as these photos show, there is still much work to be done before we're drinking gin and tonics by the pool. And s o you see, all of the necessary equipment has been gathered and primed... Time for a little rest. Each year, this little tree sta

We disembarked at Calais at 2.35pm, and chose the 'quick route' south via toll roads. The Paris peripherique kept us involved in its spiteful fury for three hours! This was despite taking heed of two intelligent, congestion-responsive (yet conflicting) sat navs. For some otherworldly reason, this 'stress' drove us to a McDonald's once we were free from the polluted clutches of gay Pareee. And we bought 'car sweets'. Paris will be the death of us. We arrived back at our little Correzian farmstead in the early hours on Saturday. There were no mice to greet us, nor was there any weather-related damage to be seen. Our first port of call at 1am was our French neighbours' house; don't worry, they weren't there. They keep their wine in our cellar, as their cellar is too warm, but there is only one (giant and rusty) key to the cellar, so, to enable them to reclaim their wine during our absences, they are the keepers of the key. Unfortunately, t