The French Renovation

One thing you may not have known about Kevin is that he can fly! Yes! It's true. After several solo trips, he abandoned his training when we came to France, only a few hours away from qualifying for his PPL (Private Pilot Licence). He does go on about the jet set life he missed by a whisker sometimes... but we're penniless renovators now, and flying is something we only do by the seat of our pants. Anyway, while driving back from St Nectaire last week, we spotted an aerodrome at Egletons, so I allowed Kevin a little nosy. We met a young pilot called Matthieu who happily flung open the hangars for us to look at the selection of planes. He invited us along to a special event on Sunday, which was yesterday. It was a sort of rally for small planes, lorries, classic motorbikes and vintage cars. We took our perfect neighbours, Alain and Brigitte, along with us. As soon as we arrived, Matthieu grabbed Kevin and swept him off into a tiny little plane, much smaller than the Ces...

I don't seem to have the time these days to update you on our progress with the renovation. Is it because we're living the life of Riley, painting the town red, lying down in a field watching the sky? No. It's because we have gradually become automatons who wake, work, eat, sleep. Despite the constant work, progress feels increasingly slow. You think I sound like Eeyore? No. I'm Tigger and Kevin's Pooh. Renovators have, at some point, got to come to terms with the fact that, if you're doing all of the work yourself, it's going to take a seriously long time. Wand-waving won't do the trick.  I've completed the re-pointing of the master bedroom end-wall, inhaling a bucket of old mud dust in the process. Yes, I wore a mask, but it's never skin-tight, and it makes you breathe harder, thus dragging in more dust. I'm not dead yet (said the voice of Eeyore she's trying to deny). Kevin has completed the installation of the second Velux wi...