Return to the hills
My parents continue to be a worry, but we've returned to France for a while. With my brother. There's little doubt that we will be travelling to and fro during the coming seasons, and this could easily be complicated by a Brexit of any shape. Still, no one knows about that yet. Insert Gallic shrug.
We three escapees drove down through France with flutters of anxiety about the potential problems we might be greeted with at our abandoned farmstead. After all, our jumble of ruinous stone buildings had been left unattended for nearly half a year. There are always huge populations of glis glis, mice, hornets and other unpleasant house guests roaming the hills of Correze, looking for a cosy Winter bolthole. And extremes of weather have been known to flood the kitchen via the chimney, shatter windows, scatter roof tiles and bring down trees. And what had become of my unwatered lemon tree and geraniums, which I'd brought into the sitting room before we departed? Would chancers have raided our barns and other out buildings? Would Willow, the stray cat, still be around? Would cottage #1 be greenly obscured by a network of weeds? Would our mower be able to tackle the overgrown grass?
So, what did we find on our arrival? Nearly everything was precisely as we'd left it, apart from a few benign exceptions: parts of the unfinished terrace had suffered ice damage; our lawns and fields had been aerated by intense mole activity; a small colony of ladybirds had settled in the corner of the window in the shower room; there was no internet. And the sun was shining!
Unbelievably, the imprisoned plants were alive! One lemon tree and ten geraniums. Sadly, the orchid didn't make it... But orchids never do in my hands.
As for the lack of internet, which I know might be horrifying your modern mind, Kevin called the English-speaking Orange helpline and an engineer arrived the next day! He couldn't find us at first and phoned my French mobile twice for directions. This entailed my having to speak French. It was messy, but it worked! Apparently, our line was broken down at the main road, but, after a brief bit of fiddling by the engineer, our usual not very broad broadband was restored. I apologised about my French and the engineer told me that he was very pleased that I was at least trying, as 'so many Brits don't bother'. Perhaps this was a little unfair, as the Brits I know here make every effort to learn the language.
My first job was to weed the kitchen gardens, the areas of uncompleted terrace, the long dry stone wall* and the flower bed. After all of that back-breaking endeavour, I rewarded myself with a monster mow of the upper lawns! I'd forgotten how happy this makes me!
Of course, we've already been haunting the brico stores, buying essential items such as cement, paint, new paint brushes, compost, plumbing bits and glue.
We've already become caught up in a whirlwind of French socialising with our neighbours. These occasions always include unexpected alcohol. Two separate visits to two different neighbours for 'coffee' turned out to involve sweet white wine and nibbles, then cider and apple tart. We're off out again this evening for 'dinner'. Our embarrassing lack of French makes these occasions quite stressful. I'm a bit rusty due to half a year back in Britain, but I'm determined to study every day. As for Kevin, well... I'll do my best to help him. Anyway, he seems to be able to communicate perfectly well with Farmer Joel. I suspect that could be down to Farmer Joel's fast improving grasp of English, however!
The birds here are incredibly busy and vocal. My brother is continually amazed by the fact that birdsong and buzzing are all that can be heard here. He's doing some work that requires perfect peace, so our location appears to be ideal. The buzzing emanates mainly from the blossoming cherry trees.
Sadly, there's no sign of Willow... I keep calling her, to no avail. It's my dream to acquire livestock/pets, but with my parents' fluctuating health, we simply can't act on this yet.
We've been out and about a little, mainly to show off our department to my brother. We've visited Uzerche, Tulle and Treignac so far. My brother and I walked 10 kilometres to St Salvadour** and back, stopping for a beer at La Ferme du Leondou.
While in Tulle, we created a Happy Birthday banner using street signs and architectural features. And our own bodies.
We have a new neighbour! He's been quiet so far, apart from when we walked away from him after quite a long chat.
Something strange happened in the sky yesterday. Look at this enormous wiggly line made of cloud! Apparently it's a flattened version of a Kelvin-Helmholtz formation.
Now that we're back in the folds of our Correzian hills, our first main jobs include: finishing off the plastering and painting in the master bedroom and building the dormer window; installing the log burner and chimney; converting the piggery into a peoplery; sowing this year's vegetables and fruits.
I'd better go and get on with it, I suppose.
* Removing weeds and ivy from the long dry stone wall may have been a mistake, as it's now shedding stones. Ivy can be a friend to old walls. Although, it was probably the ivy that initially began to shuffle the stones around.
** Yes, it does sound like somewhere in Mexico!
We three escapees drove down through France with flutters of anxiety about the potential problems we might be greeted with at our abandoned farmstead. After all, our jumble of ruinous stone buildings had been left unattended for nearly half a year. There are always huge populations of glis glis, mice, hornets and other unpleasant house guests roaming the hills of Correze, looking for a cosy Winter bolthole. And extremes of weather have been known to flood the kitchen via the chimney, shatter windows, scatter roof tiles and bring down trees. And what had become of my unwatered lemon tree and geraniums, which I'd brought into the sitting room before we departed? Would chancers have raided our barns and other out buildings? Would Willow, the stray cat, still be around? Would cottage #1 be greenly obscured by a network of weeds? Would our mower be able to tackle the overgrown grass?
So, what did we find on our arrival? Nearly everything was precisely as we'd left it, apart from a few benign exceptions: parts of the unfinished terrace had suffered ice damage; our lawns and fields had been aerated by intense mole activity; a small colony of ladybirds had settled in the corner of the window in the shower room; there was no internet. And the sun was shining!
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| My brother and I spent two hours obliterating over 300 molehills. |
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| In patches where puddles tend to form, the pointing/grout has cracked. |
Unbelievably, the imprisoned plants were alive! One lemon tree and ten geraniums. Sadly, the orchid didn't make it... But orchids never do in my hands.
As for the lack of internet, which I know might be horrifying your modern mind, Kevin called the English-speaking Orange helpline and an engineer arrived the next day! He couldn't find us at first and phoned my French mobile twice for directions. This entailed my having to speak French. It was messy, but it worked! Apparently, our line was broken down at the main road, but, after a brief bit of fiddling by the engineer, our usual not very broad broadband was restored. I apologised about my French and the engineer told me that he was very pleased that I was at least trying, as 'so many Brits don't bother'. Perhaps this was a little unfair, as the Brits I know here make every effort to learn the language.
My first job was to weed the kitchen gardens, the areas of uncompleted terrace, the long dry stone wall* and the flower bed. After all of that back-breaking endeavour, I rewarded myself with a monster mow of the upper lawns! I'd forgotten how happy this makes me!
Of course, we've already been haunting the brico stores, buying essential items such as cement, paint, new paint brushes, compost, plumbing bits and glue.
We've already become caught up in a whirlwind of French socialising with our neighbours. These occasions always include unexpected alcohol. Two separate visits to two different neighbours for 'coffee' turned out to involve sweet white wine and nibbles, then cider and apple tart. We're off out again this evening for 'dinner'. Our embarrassing lack of French makes these occasions quite stressful. I'm a bit rusty due to half a year back in Britain, but I'm determined to study every day. As for Kevin, well... I'll do my best to help him. Anyway, he seems to be able to communicate perfectly well with Farmer Joel. I suspect that could be down to Farmer Joel's fast improving grasp of English, however!
The birds here are incredibly busy and vocal. My brother is continually amazed by the fact that birdsong and buzzing are all that can be heard here. He's doing some work that requires perfect peace, so our location appears to be ideal. The buzzing emanates mainly from the blossoming cherry trees.
Sadly, there's no sign of Willow... I keep calling her, to no avail. It's my dream to acquire livestock/pets, but with my parents' fluctuating health, we simply can't act on this yet.
We've been out and about a little, mainly to show off our department to my brother. We've visited Uzerche, Tulle and Treignac so far. My brother and I walked 10 kilometres to St Salvadour** and back, stopping for a beer at La Ferme du Leondou.
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| La Ferme du Leondou, St Salvadour |
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| St Salvadour. The French are very good at forming multicoloured hedges. Nobody ever talks about that. |
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| This wiggly river on the way to St Salvadour takes me back to meanders and ox-bow lakes. And erosion and deposition. |
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| L'Eglise Saint-Sauveur, St Salvadour |
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| L'Eglise Saint-Pierre, Uzerche |
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| Treignac. If it wasn't for that car, you might think this photo was taken in 1947! |
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| 'Knuckle trees' in Treignac |
While in Tulle, we created a Happy Birthday banner using street signs and architectural features. And our own bodies.
We have a new neighbour! He's been quiet so far, apart from when we walked away from him after quite a long chat.
Something strange happened in the sky yesterday. Look at this enormous wiggly line made of cloud! Apparently it's a flattened version of a Kelvin-Helmholtz formation.
Now that we're back in the folds of our Correzian hills, our first main jobs include: finishing off the plastering and painting in the master bedroom and building the dormer window; installing the log burner and chimney; converting the piggery into a peoplery; sowing this year's vegetables and fruits.
I'd better go and get on with it, I suppose.
* Removing weeds and ivy from the long dry stone wall may have been a mistake, as it's now shedding stones. Ivy can be a friend to old walls. Although, it was probably the ivy that initially began to shuffle the stones around.
** Yes, it does sound like somewhere in Mexico!
Welcome back. We've missed your adventures and lovely photos.
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