I don't often talk about cottage #2

No, I don't often talk about cottage #2. And here's why...

I have a horrible feeling that any ivy removal might be the prod this cottage needs in order to crumple. The cottage has an overall witchy appearance. Or perhaps the look is more emo.

1766 is carved above the front door, also some crude fleur de lys designs on either side. As you can see, an attempt has been made to hold the cottage together with thick porridge, with absolutely no regard to history or aesthetics.

The chimney is held together by hope. The top two clay tiles appear to be praying.

I appreciate that an effort has been made to carve out a little design on the lintel above this window. I can't imagine why there are iron bars! Either to keep something out, or to keep something in! The window on the other side of the kitchen isn't barred.

The ivy in this particular spot is cloaking a very terrible crack from roof to ground. I daren't open the cellar door, in case it sets off spontaneous demolition. I find myself unreasonably proud to be the owner of that little shutter- it's so endearingly rustic!

A wee close-up of 'my precious'! I can make out a fairly happy skeleton face in the window...

This is the scene that greets you as you walk into cottage #2. The most pervasive thing about this room is the acrid smell of motor oil and diesel. And ancient dust. I'm trying to think of something clever to do with those oil drums. 

This dresser sits to the left of you as you enter the kitchen. It appears to be full of agricultural chemicals and poisonous pellets. The glass has been covered with wallpaper to conceal the contents.

These are the contents of the little drawer you can see in the centre of the dresser above. If you'd like any of these treasures, please let me know. Actually, I think this photo would make a very attractive piece of wall art.

This is what's concealed behind those wallpapered dresser doors.

To the right of the dresser there's a veritable bonfire of homemade tools!

This oily work bench seems to be stable and robust- I like it. It currently supports three satchels full of shotgun cartridges and snares.

Introducing the kitchen sink! No tap, but there's a hole that drains out onto the earth outside. The effort involved in cutting the wallpaper fringe into a zig-zag is heart-warming. Perhaps it's heartbreaking.

Look at the floor! Cobbles! These stay! No matter what!

A little stove, four little wooden chairs and a gutless grandfather clock wait until midnight isn't chimed... and they begin their nightly dance. This is the only way to explain the regular clunks  and clonks that are often overheard.

I haven't looked inside yet. Maybe it's salvageable...

Within the yawn of the fireplace, another tombstone leans, impossible to move singlehandedly.

A revolting open basin of slinky black oil looms in a dark corner, enticing my feet towards it on every visit.

The contents of one of the kitchen table drawers. I've recently extracted the table as a contender for being reusable. It's sitting out in the rain today- it won't thank me for moving it.

The other kitchen table drawer.

I'm not sure whether these dried flowers were kept for decoration, fragrance, cooking or to be used as a little table broom...

The steps from the kitchen to the bedroom. I can't work out if they're stone or wood, or a combination of the two.

This grey feather-fest is the bed. I found a most appalling pornographic magazine from 1972 within the folds of the bedding. I haven't touched it since then. I'm doing a face as I write this. It's a face of lemony repulsion.

A Singer sewing machine brightens the bedroom mood very slightly.

These are the stairs that go up to the loft. They're fairly perilous. They look better than they feel underfoot.

And here we have an enormous crack in the bedroom wall!

Ancient garlic hangs from the bedroom ceiling; an odd choice of bedroom fragrance.

Another sort of bulb hangs by the garlic. There's no electricity supply in the cottage now, which is just as well, as I wouldn't trust it. 

The switch!

The loft is very spacious and offers plenty of room to convert it into two bedrooms, each with an en-suite bathroom. We'll never be able to afford to renovate this cottage, however. Cottage #1 has absorbed all of our money. That's a picture of Jesus over there on the right; he gets everywhere in these buildings.

View of the kitchen from the top of the bedroom steps.

Signs of little visitors under the bed.

Maybe I should use this little bouquet to remove some of these sticky cobwebs...

  

There's something quite precious about this boxed pair of shoes. They don't look like they've had much wear from wearing; they've simply resigned themselves to the spidery dust.

Surely all the luck has poured out?

Jesus adorns the mantelpiece.

I suppose this is a powder horn. But it's not made of horn.

I put that candle and holder there to make it look more homely. I know. It's not enough.

I tell myself that it's normal practice to heap up earth and debris against the chimney wall. But is it?

The back of cottage #2. Or is it the front? That's a little animal pen there; I've never stepped foot in it.

I LOVE the big stones around the door!

I imagine the interior has been overtaken by ivy too.

These window stones look much newer than the rest of the building.

So, now you've experienced a virtual tour of cottage #2. What do you think? Our French friends' grandchildren won't go back in there since their first visit. They told us that it was definitely haunted.

This month, I received an assessment form to pay taxe d'habitation for this beast of a building. I already had to pay rates, or tax fonciere, on it this year, but really! I cannot agree to pay to inhabit something so uninhabitable! I'll let you know what happens- I've told them that it's a ruin that's about to fall down.