Is it a plague of locusts? No, just the boys...

Hello again folks,

It seems ages since I wrote anything, but we’ve been so busy here, I thought I’d better get something down or it’ll be like War and Peace by next week.

Seriously though, make a cuppa and some toast before you settle down with this one, there’s a lot to get through.

We left you last time, having heroically battled through the hail storm, veggies and car bonnet damaged, but not out spirits! We didn’t have time really; the plumber was arriving the next morning to started installing the pipes for our central heating.

Not the most visually stimulating picture I know but really, copper piping being connected isn’t really a) interesting to look at or b) entertaining to read about, so suffice it to say that we have a full set of pipes, the radiators are connected, in place where possible and the pellet boiler is on order ready for installation in around six weeks.

Whilst all this was happening in a plumbing frenzy around us, Simon was not idle. He had resumed work on the utility room and was battening out the walls ready to box in the electrics and pipes. We decided that to make removable panels would be sensible! Access at a later date, in case of catastrophe (they do seem to happen to us!) appeared to be the best course of action.

The utility room was really starting to take shape, kitchen cupboards and work surfaces were assembled and in the form of a mild distraction we had a visit from next door’s dog again.

Maybe you’ll remember my little French canine companion. I have since discovered that he is a she, and her name is Diddy. This is possibly not how it’s spelled but you catch my drift.

Diddy has completely made herself at home with us, she will wander in, unannounced and nose around for some tasty morsels. To be quite honest, she’s usually successful in her endeavours as you can’t always tell that you’ve dropped food on the floor due to the stylish and glorious concrete that is the kitchen floor. Still, saves on hoovering I suppose.

I think she’s been watching Titanic again…

Look at her cute love heart butt!

You may have been wondering where the cupboard doors are? Well, as the cupboards are not a pricey set, the doors that came with them weren’t all that pretty to look at so I talked Simon into letting me make curtains. French style, with chickens on!

Voilà, rideaux de poulet, or chicken curtains!

Which is different to ‘it’s curtains for you, chicken’. That’s more likely to be Coq au Vin.

Wednesday morning arrived and we set off to Limoges airport to pick up our next shift of visitors.

My Dad and our two sons were arriving for a week. I was slightly over-excited!

Plus, I harvested my first radishes!! And one runner bean!! Impressed aren’t you…

And to add to the melee, this bloody great thing droned into view before resting genteelly on the sun lounger, the clover is for size comparison, no one was trying to woo it with flowers, believe me.

They all settled in fabulously, miraculously they seamlessly managed to slip back into ‘Mum!’ mode, which I battled with, with as much resistance as possible.

With Taylor safely ensconced in the attic room, there’s another story in that I’m sure… Dad had a bedroom den set up on the ground floor, we directed Barney to the spare room. Perfect you’d imagine, apart from him informing me that he flung the windows and shutters open on his first morning here, to greet the day, but unfortunately sans (without) pyjamas. Not a problem with normal height windows, ours, on the other hand are only about 70cm above the floorboards, and nearly to the ceiling. Luckily our neighbour speaks very little English, and I’m not sure some particular parts of the body are on the school syllabus.

We had a lazy couple of days, which was brilliant. The boys set up a badminton net and set about reliving childhood arguments.

With all this beautiful weather the garden has completely recovered from the hail storm. Some of the plants have had to re-flower so they can fruit but it’s really coming on. 

Fat Onions

Bell Peppers (8!)

Plum tomatoes

Sweetcorn

This little fellow will be our Halloween pumpkin!

Courgettes

And the remainder of the post-hail fruit on the trees is fattening up nicely!

Which is handy because those boys can eat…everything.

I’d forgotten what it’s like to cook for 5 people every day! The amount of food they consume, every hour, all day, and into the small ours.

I could have done with a dairy cow in the garden and an endless supply of sausages. The bread machine has gone on strike, it crossed my mind to set up a picket line, but they would have just hurtled past me en route to the fridge.

Tuesday was a national holiday in France. The English know it as Bastille Day, but the French call it Juillet 14^th.

The storming of the Bastille has become a benchmark in terms of Revolt and Liberty all over the world!

Referring to July 14 1789, when a massive crowd of Frenchmen rose up and invaded the prison, Bastille Day is considered the beginning of the French Revolution. The Bastille held a large cache of ammunition and gunpowder, and was also known for holding political prisoners whose writings had displeased the royal government. Capturing this prison, a symbol of the Ancient Regime, indeed marked the end of Louis XVI's absolute and arbitrary power and led France to the three ideals of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.

Bastille Day became the National Holiday in 1790, originally called Fête de la Fédération, to celebrate the first anniversary of the storming of the Bastille and the end of the French Revolution.

We were looking forward to celebrating our first Juillet 14^th!

Our local café owner, Thierrry, had organised our hamlet’s festivities with a buffet, music and singing, as it turned out, but more about that later. 

We made our way the arduous 50 feet to the café and set about enjoying every minute. The people here are so friendly and truly happy to chatter away to you, even if we can only understand every 5^th word. The food was amazing, every type of cold meat imaginable, cockles (!) I though they were snails… prawns, herring. Cheese everywhere and delicious little fruit tarts. Oh, and copious amounts of red wine, Ricard and champagne.

The musical duo, roused us with patriotic French songs, sang their hearts out and even had an accordion!

People were vigorously encouraged to dance…

The music had really cranked up by this point and my Dad, who is quite old, thought an afternoon sleep would be just the ticket. Our youngest son, Taylor, leapt up, grabbed his Grandad’s wheelchair and left in a cloud of dust…. I’m not sure he really likes accordion music.

When I nipped home to make sure they were both alright, Dad was snoring and Taylor was listening to some music that definitely didn’t have a squeeze box solo in it.

Meanwhile, back at the fete, Simon had been, reluctantly he tells me, dragged up to the stage and handed a microphone.

They have created a monster…

Now Simon isn’t one to shy away from the limelight, my husband is certainly not a shrinking violet but I had never imagined that he would so readily step up to the karaoke plate with such aplomb.

They loved him…it just made him worse…

The entire Beatles back-catalogue later and he had to stop because he’d worn his voice out (small mercies)!

All joking aside, we had been welcomed as a part of the village on their most patriotic and important national day, we really couldn’t have moved to a finer place.

The following day we had to get the boys and Dad back to the airport for their flight. It was so nice to have them here, obviously we needed to go food shopping on the way home as all that was left in the cupboards was a stale solitary melba toast and a box of raisins.

We are looking forward to seeing them back soon!

Thursday, and normal service resumed. Simon had really been cracking on with the utility room, we’ve still got the ceiling and floor to finish, sand down the plasterboard, paint the walls and tile around the worktops, but I think it’s really coming on.

I had been busy myself, appliqueing a starburst I had been sewing by hand onto a cushion cover as a gift for our neighbour.

She was really pleased with it and it was great to give her something homemade as she’s be so helpful to us since we arrived in the hamlet.

On Friday morning Simon was beside himself with excitement! No, a recording contract hadn’t arrived in La Poste, he had located a tractor, not too far from us and at the right price.

Just to give you an idea, he has been incommunicado every evening for about 6 weeks, scouring the local ads for tractors on the internet. Google translate has been working overtime as he attempted to ask pertinent questions and decipher the replies. When he got replies that was, the French are very laissez faire about many things it would seem. Problem is that Simon is like a terrier with a bone when he’s focussed. Their lack of speedy responses and complete lack of desire to sell their farm equipment, despite advertising it, was driving him insane… c'est la vie!

So, back to Friday. We arrived at a little farm house, tucked away down a lane. We were lurking about, feeling awkward when a tiny old French lady came to the garden gate.

Simon wooed her with his suaveness. Well, not entirely, he managed to cobble together a sentence so that she understood that we were there to see the tractor, (luckily just tracteur in French)!

She intimated that ‘he’ was out but would be back soon.

I passed the time dodging pigeons, honestly, it was like that scene from Mary Poppins, luckily Si didn’t know that tune.

Well it turns out that we were waiting for her son in law, who showed up, cranked up the engine which Simon examined in full, kicked some really massive tires and agreed upon a price.

Easy really.

We drove the 25 kilometres home; it only took 2 hours! We had to go along the back roads to avoid traffic as the tractor could only go around 25kph.

I had a very important role, driving behind Simon with my hazards flashing. I had wanted a convoi exceptionnel sign but we didn’t have any cardboard or a pen…typical.

So, we got home and the dismantling, cleaning and generally tarting up began.

This is Klaus in all his 1985-year-old glory. It is a Deutz tractor, of German make and Simon’s new love.

The first component to go was the old seat. It looked like it had been used very well and maybe a farm dog, feeling a bit peckish, had had a slight nibble on the edges.

A quick trip to the local tractor shop (Yes, we have one, who knew?) and a new, padded and comfy seat for the derriere was installed.

Off came the old canvas cab and he took out the metal frame and windscreen for cleaning and painting.

Out came the spanners and Simon was happy giving Klaus the once over!

But alas, disaster struck! Upon further investigation not all was rosy in the engine bay. Simon had discovered some electrical anomalies.

Basically, the alternator was knackered and we needed a new one.

Back to the tractor shop…

We’ve got an alternator on order, which should be with us by Wednesday.

Fortunately for Simon, he’s got a bit of re-wiring to do which should keep him busy. I’m not sure anyone’s ever opened the dashboard before…

Although I fully expect this to be us by next week!

We’ll probably have outfits in team colours too, better get that sewing machine out again!