Rise and Shine

May 08, 2020

Rise and Shine

Hello everyone,

Thursday 7^th May, our worldly goods were arriving from the UK. We couldn’t wait, I would have more clothes, Simon would have more trainers…we would be able to stop using a cardboard box as the washing basket, all sorts of joys awaited us.

The majority of our stuff needed to be stored in the barn, this is because we are renovating the entire house and we don’t want to a) get all our furniture ruined and b) what’s the point of filling the rooms up with our stuff, only to move it all out again. Last Christmas we had visited the house and made some huge scaffolding shelves in the barn, ready for our move.

Getting sensible in our old age.

We had been reliably informed that the lorry would be with us late morning, so the previous evening we hadn’t bothered rushing around down in the barn, tidying up could be done before it arrived….

Oh, the fickle finger of fate…

The alarm went off at 7.30am, there I was, contemplating having a little lay in as we didn’t have too much to do before the removal man showed up.

7.45am

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Leap up, look alarmed at Simon (he does look dodgy in the morning).

“What’s that?” I said with a startled expression.

“I bet it’s the bloody removal man, I knew this would happen” said Simon, with an unusual amount of serenity.

I pulled on my PJs, ran down the stairs, with difficulty. I don’t know about you but my ankles don’t want to bend first thing in the morning, and opened the front door.

There stood a very smiley young man, who introduced himself as Piotr.

“Hang on” I said, trying to look like I had myself together “Would you like a cup of tea?” But no, my offer of a beverage was declined.

“I have had many cups of coffee!” he said, looking ever so slightly caffeinated.

“I’ll get my husband” I said. This is my go-to phrase, and usually solves all problems.

Simon had roused himself from the bed and was nonchalantly eating chocolate spread on a lump of yesterday’s baguette. He wandered outside and directed Piotr down to the barn.

Much heaving-hoeing, grunting and flexing of muscles later and the barn was replete with our furniture and a mountain of boxes.

We just had a few things to get up into the house and Piotr’s job was done. He was great, totally professional and organised, we would recommend his company to anyone.

Now we just had to get sorted.

In the photo below you can see the unusual and interesting kitchen island that had been installed by the previous owner.

Doesn’t our fridge freezer clash spectacularly!

It’s not, shall we say, really our style. Plus, this room is not going to be the kitchen by the time we’ve completed the renovations, it’s going to be the living room, so a temporary solution was the answer.

We couldn’t fit our kitchen table in properly with it in place so….

This happened. Give him a crow bar and he’s happy.

But now we didn’t have any storage space, so he sped off to his trusty workbench and hey presto!

Then we put our table back together again, got all our bits and bobs out and it felt like home.

Luckily for us, whilst unpacking, we found the ultimate memento….

A quick explanation of the above.

One Christmas Eve, Barney (middle child) decided to go to John Lewis’ at around 7.45pm to buy his entire list of presents, organisation is ever his strong point. The sales assistant informed him that the store closed at 8pm and therefore, she was unable to help him.

How fortunate for us then that Barney happened upon the brain wave of a £20 note, bulldog clipped to various photographs of his beautiful face, this was my offering. I know you’re all envious.

Next morning Simon was keen as mustard to get back to his boiler house.

I felt the need for a fresh croissant, so although all the shops were shut (again), as it was VE Day, the local bakers were indeed open. The reason for this is at the time of the French Revolution in the late 1700’s, the average Frenchman was reported to have eaten three pounds a day of bread. If bread supplies ran short, or the quality was bad, riots resulted. So, bakers open twice a day in France, for morning and evening bread buying.