The French Renovation

I spent four hours at Brico Depot on Monday. Kevin had a very long list of titchy tiny plumbing items to purchase, along with their serial numbers. I endured.  But...  We had to go back today for about two hours. To get more bits. And now I'm finding it harder to endure. Sensing my murderous despair, Kevin sent me to look for a hose/tap attachment. The rebel within persuaded me to buy a heavy duty rake instead. I love it! It had managed to take skin off my knuckles even before it was mine! It's going to be useful on my rock mission. Brico Depot do not sell ballast in bags; you have to make your own. They are thoughtful enough to give you a recipe to follow, but we didn't have the staying power. DIY store junkies that we are, we went to Leroy Merlin instead. SMELLS I've started to wear perfume, even to the DIY stores, and out in the rock field. Beautiful odours are important in France. There is a great divide here: heavenly scented versus BO. A...

Pageviews by Countries Entry Pageviews United Kingdom 384 United States 95 France 59 New Zealand 22 Ireland 18 Germany 6 Switzerland 2 United Arab Emirates 1 Austria 1 Italy 1 This blog feature fascinates me. Wherever you are, thank you for reading!

Kevin sees my avid rock-removing as a bit of a sideline in the world of renovation- he says that's not true, but it is. He tends to lean towards indoor working, and I tend to prefer the outdoor tasks. Yes, I know you can see quite clearly that it was sunny and lovely today, and you suspect that that may have been a compelling factor, but I'm out there in the rain as well.  Today, I was ready to gently outline my vision for the gardens. I thought it would be useful to mark out where the terrace is going, and to mow a patch where the immediate 'private gardens' would be. This exercise enticed Kevin outside for a while!  The vision? Balustrade-ed steps will come down from the centre of the terrace (where the gravestone currently rests- this is still a disputed position) and a wide pale gravel path will lead up between two beds, one for vegetables and one for flowers, with another pale gravel path along the long join between balustrade-ed terrace edge and garden. ...

The sitting room window is out and on its way down, ready to transform into a set of French windows. Our soft furnishings and the piano are securely parceled in semi-sticky carpet protector- it's all we had left! (It was a present from Jim the plumber in Cranbrook- we never really did appreciate him as much as we should have done. He was a bit scary.) As you can see, the sitting room is taking shape, with a recognisable wall and floor. Witness a wall going up around the downstairs loo and utility cupboard. It's not quite so embarrassing using the loo now. Who'd have thought that a loo without a door would feel 'private'? The view of the sitting room window hole from the outside. After making the utility cupboard, I needed some plaster for taping and jointing. Where was it? Under the stairs, an area that was now inaccessible. Wily old Kevin simply cut his way in and retrieved what I needed. You can see that my taping and jointing skills ne...

We came across this poster in the window of the Mairie during a routine stake-out of our new commune. I was brave and French and called to reserve two tickets. The day came, and we attended. And how did this modestly advertised event pan out, I hear you ask... We arrived at precisely 19H30 as suggested. There were a few cars parked outside, the first cars we'd ever seen in Bar. A group of three women said, 'Bonsoir' to us as we walked towards the door of the Salle des Fetes... in pitch black darkness. We entered and paid our dues, and bought two tombola tickets. The ladies at the desk wished us a happy evening. We entered the hall, which was very brightly lit. There was a bar with a chalkboard sign advertising punch at 1 Euro, or a pitcher of either beer, rose wine or red wine for 5 Euros. We'd been given a voucher for our free punch, so we had that straight away. It was a tropical fruit juice. From a carton. We ordered a pitcher of red wine; it was a BIG flago...

Kevin took these photos from his hidey hole. He finds my rock removal labour of love a bit odd. But I can't plant grass seed on the fosse channel bare patch until I have a good smooth top soil! The very sad thing is that if I choose to prod my trowel in the earth at any random position, post clearance, there is more rock lurking there.  This photo is supposed to show the amazing difference between 'rock removed soil' on the right and 'rocky soil' on the left. Yep, I know. Not a lot of difference! I'm half way across and I'm going to keep going. I have a technique. I rake in from one metre on either side to make a feather shape, the idea being that most of the stones on that two metre strip are on the quill/calamus. Then I work up the quill with my barrow, scooping up and digging out any stubborn rocks. Navigating the tufts is yet another element that can only bring additional satisfaction. The tufts are surprisingly adept at hoarding rocks.

I've been feeling overwhelmed by the amount and complexity of the work we have to do to renovate our French properties, but a little visit to Sue and Steve's newest venture has set me back on track with a revitalised 'can do' attitude. I mean, look! Their barn has an entire wall missing, yet they can already see the beautiful gite it will soon become. They have no fear. They made us a cup of English tea, boiling the water using a generator... because their property does not yet have the luxury of electricity. We have electricity. The water came from their dilapidated well. We have mains water. They didn't moan or flinch. They even gave us chocolate biscuits! No problem! The wall to the right of the door fell down when they removed the ivy. They rebuilt it. The window fell out. They put in a new frame.  This is the existing electrical meter. It's not connected to anything. It's ancient. There was no clear boundary to their property, T...