De-junking the first cottage nears an end

 We thought we'd keep this and restore it, but it has to go. We've had enough of de-greasing stuff. And it's brown. I've gone off brown.
 Some of the million (not exaggerating) bottles from the cellar, on their way to the dechetterie. We are their best customers. And a relationship is evolving. Kevin likes to take me on the trips there as he says he gets better service, and I can tell him what the man is saying. There are many sections, and all things have a place. It involves a lot of driving to and fro between bays. British tips could learn a thing or two here. The man has developed a special high five type extended gesture greeting with both Kevin and me. He speaks some English, all borrowed from Coca Cola and McDonald's adverts, it seems. He marched me to the cardboard section today, his arm tightly wound through mine. He then steered me towards the 'telly' section. There was nothing on that I wanted to see, but he is adorable!
 Masked up for the removal of nasty items from the loft of cottage 1. Rat urine-soaked sacks, a 'cot', rat poison, mouse corpses, ancient instruments of torture, everything that makes you retch. And all conducted through thick curtains of ancient webs containing very much alive giant spiders. Those webs could stop a truck. I had to be extremely grown up about this operation, but inside I was doing a scream-dance.
I don't know...

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