Tile Style

The sun breaks through stormy skies to shine on a blessed part of the 'Shire'.

We've now been back in France for nearly three weeks, and, having placed ourselves in quarantine for the first two weeks, we have begun to venture out a little. Although new cases of COVID-19 are waning, the French continue to be cautious, and masks are invariably worn in all indoor locations, and also at outdoor markets to a significant extent. We've been out for two meals, one a socially-distanced BBQ in a friend's garden, the other a Thai meal at an outdoor lakeside restaurant. Groups of diners were limited to ten people, and all catering and serving staff were masked throughout. 

Evening falls at the lakeside restaurant, Cote Ti Plage, at Treignac

 Garden BBQ guests!

I know it's not terribly interesting, but let's have a look at how we're managing the five feet grass situation. Kevin began tackling the top lawn last week, with the blades set high. The ride-on mower didn't so much cut as flatten much of the grass, but we persevered, and now we've revealed dry stubble and the pock marks of a million ex-molehills.

We again had to undertake the thankless, hand-blistering task of raking up cut grass into little haystacks.

 

Et voila! Short grass!

Short grass speckled with the scars of molehills.

Uneven grass towards cottage #2

The bay tree and grape vine that we cut down are back with a vengeance!

Corner of the top lawn, looking down the lower section of the drive.

And, lo, the well, the pear tree, the iris trough and the flower bed are revealed!

Kevin battles against the vegetation with his much-loved strimmer.

Kevin has cut the area of grass where the fosse septique channels run, as the farmer's tractor could crush the carefully constructed underground channels. You can just about see him in the background, off to mow a short-grass running track around the perimeter of our land for me. How many times have I run around the track so far? Correct. None. 

This part of the top lawn is noticeably cooler as it's shaded by several big lime trees.

Look! I attempted a stripy lawn using the push mower! I know- I've achieved stripy stubble.

We missed the key propagating season this year, but donations of young plants from friends and family have given us a last gasp chance to grow and eat this year.

My little irrigation system is pleasingly effective!

Broccoli from Jean and Ray.

Beetroot for harvesting next May from Jean and Ray.

More broccoli.

Vegetables and fruits are beginning to grow!

I've had to net the broccoli after finding lots of hungry green caterpillars eating the plants. One plant is already no more than a stem. Last week I'd pointed out the pretty little cabbage whites flying around over the broccoli to Kevin. I didn't think about it with the mind of a gardener. 

A skilled gardener friend of mine, Sue, inserts old plastic bottles with their bottoms cut off into the root area of tomatoes, and this is what I've done this year. I feed them tomato fertilizer mix via these funnel-tunnels. Unfortunately, one of my tunnels converged with one of the mole's tunnels, and gallons of the mix was just pouring away. In revenge, the mole did something spiteful to one of the tomato plants, removing its entire root system.

You'll be relieved to let me move you away from the earth now to visit the two sets of patio doors. Originally, these were windows, and we knocked them into doorways; this left scars on the wall that needed filling or disguising. We've gone for both by tiling the interior and exterior of each doorway.

Some of the necessary materials gather...

Tiling requires a wide range of 'propping up' bits of wood and metal.

The grouting is still to be done.

Kevin works into the night...

The bottom slices of tile go on.

Work begins on the other doorway.

And now the grouting begins!

The major building work starts in earnest this week. We need to install the second dormer window, install a British free-standing bath in the main bedroom, convert the piggery into a self-contained gite, install a chimney through the metre-thick stone wall from the wood burner, and render and cap the terrace walls, to name just a few of the urgent jobs. I don't yet know where we're going to start! The most appalling task ahead of us is to empty both barns of old hay and straw; this could mean hundreds of wildly messy trips to the dechetterie, and two new cases of 'farmer's lung'. Actually, we've bought proper canister masks to wear, so we should be safe, but we might be approaching 70 years old by the time we finish. 

We've bought two secondhand solar pool heaters; they seem to be working well, as the pool was at 28 degrees Celsius yesterday.

The hydrangeas at the front of the house are always SO blue! I think it's because of the slate content of the soil, and the slate tile covering over the soil.

We're spending most of our time out on the terrace- the weather has been glorious for quite a while now.

But, at this very moment, we've been forced to retreat indoors with the doors shut, as Farmer Joel has arrived to cut the long grass! On a Sunday! I feel guilty...

St. Joel!

The bakery window yawns into darkness.

We still don't know if we will be able to stay in France after Brexit takes hold. It's unlikely we'd be granted a carte de sejour, as our income is tiny, nowhere near the minimum required. We may be limited to spending 90 days out of every 180 here in our only home. And in the other 90 days, we can't even visit any other part of Europe, so a European camper-van jamboree is out of the question. We'll be forced to sofa-surf in Britain. As you can imagine, this idea fills us with regret and horror. Returning to an overgrown paradise every three months is probably unsustainable. We've invested so much time and money into this life, but our life is currently the bakery window, yawning into darkness.

Good night, friends!