Frenchmen on the Roof

 

Salut you lovely lot!

Spring has finally sprung here and I can’t tell you how much nicer just a little bit of sun and a blue sky can make you feel. We’ve had, what felt like months of rain, drizzle, sleet and ice. I’ve never been a major fan of January and February, but you can stick the first two months of the year, especially when they coincide with a lockdown and a curfew.

But at least I’m not having to live through this curfew in 2011, when I would have had the delightful job of home schooling the boys. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I actually am.

We have had some mighty unusual weather. One Saturday at the beginning of February we woke up to an orange sky. I thought it looked quite sinister and had ideas of alien invasion until I Googled it and discovered that it was a sand storm that had blown up across France from the Sahara.

Then a week later we get this!

We had some strange freezing rain, which funnily enough, does exactly what it says. As it falls from the sky, it freezes where it lands. Another weird weather phenomenon, we really have experienced everything here.

So, as the roofing men had shown up and put-up scaffolding at the rear of the house, Simon thought he would make the most of having a readymade work station.

The pointing in the stonework was in dire need of attention, the holes were being made use of by the local sparrows, but at least at this time of year they weren’t raising their babies in them yet.

Simon knocked up some mortar, made from white sand and lime.

Whilst he was braving the elements, I was in purgatory, painting shutters.

I don’t really mind painting; I just hate gloss paint. It smells rank, it’s sticky and you have to clean everything with white spirit. Plus, everything needs two coats, and each coat takes 48 hours to dry. So, my diary’s full for at least a couple of weeks.

It’ll be worth it though, when we have lovely new green shutters on all the windows.

This is a dummy run just to fit the metalwork and hinges. After we’ve established they fit properly, we have to take them off and give them a second coat.

Seriously!

 

On our next Sunday off and in the hope of banishing the winter blues, we decided that we would go and explore the local countryside.

There is forest everywhere here, you literally can’t see the wood for the trees.

With an ordnance survey map in hand, we set off for a hike near the local quarry. 

Even with the trees bare and the countryside in dormant mode it was absolutely beautiful.

 

These icicles were where the water was seeping through the rocks and freezing as it dripped.

We hiked up and up following the river path, and I commented on how loud the water was, presuming it was the run off from the hills, we’d had an awful lot of rain. But the noise wasn’t just the river, we turned a corner and were presented with a waterfall!

 

 

We had found a dam and the waterfall was where the runoff was being guided.

An attempt to carry on walking this route was thwarted by brambles and bizarrely, at the summit of the path, a farmer’s gate and a field of les vaches, happily grazing.

My brain couldn’t quite work out the topography of the terrain, we had walked up a steep rocky hill, how on earth could there be a field of cows at the top??

Simon has given up explaining the nuances of geography to me and mostly just appreciates me for my wit and humour.

Due to his masterful orienteering skills, Simon told me that if we went back to the car, we could drive to the other side of the dam as there was a large lake on the map that was probably worth seeing.

We weren’t disappointed.

Despite the frosty weather, it was warm in the sun.

 

We settled on a bench, cracked open a flask of tea and spent a peaceful hour eating egg sandwiches and just relaxing.

 

Monday morning dawned cold and sunny but with a fierce wind. Our roofing guys had a week off due to a previously booked holiday and we realised that the tarpaulin covering the rear of the roof wasn’t going to hold up in the gale.

Not to worry, Simon scampered up the scaffolding like a pro, screw gun in hand and literally battened down the hatches (tarpaulin, but I have artistic licence here).

 

Whilst he carried on with the pointing up, I was lugging stones. Let me explain.

We had told the roofers that they could jettison the old slate roof tiles into the floor space of the new extension at the rear of the house. Not a problem as the floor level is being raised and they will just stay under it.

What about the front of the house?  The garden is a mixture of stones, earth, copious persistent, ever-lasting weeds and some random flower beds. It does however boast three very old hibiscus trees and two climbing roses which have gone a bit wild.

The sun beats down on the majority of it all day in the summer, and the few things I had planted hadn’t really done very well. So, we thought the best thing was to put some membrane down to banish the weeds and use the old slates from the front of the roof as chippings. Then we can have some pots and containers to brighten the place up.

I gave the roses a major hair-cut, they had been growing up to the roof, and we transplanted one of the hibiscus trees into the back garden.

And now to return to my stone lugging. A couple of summers ago, Libby helped me to collect all the random stones that were strewn across the garden and we wheelbarrowed them to the front garden and built a nice little edge to the flower bed. Well, I basically just did the job in reverse.

 

We will need the stones to build the bottom part of the extension, so I just piled them up ready for their new purpose.

Apparently, they’ll need to be sorted into piles by size. Guess whose job that’ll be?

In amongst the weeds were these little succulent plants, they’re everywhere so I’ve replanted them all over the garden, and given some away to friends. 

 

Despite my ever-increasing muscle bulk, there were three stone monoliths that I was unable to shift by hand.

Cue Simon on the digger.

I also realised that I had been a bit optimistic about the amount of earth that I thought I would be able to shift in the wheelbarrow.

 

Do you get the feeling there’s a reoccurring theme here?

We got our trailer and loaded it up, by the time Si had shifted it all the tyres were bulging. Luckily, we were only pulling it into the back garden. We’re going to use all the excess earth to fill in the massive divots made by the tele-handler that had been parked in the garden, this piece of machinery weighs about 7 tonnes and I think the moles have got their work cut out for them, re-boring their tunnels!

By the time we’d finished, the garden was clear and ready to have slates lobbed into it from a great height.

Plus, now I have the enviable task of gloss painting the front garden gates green! Yay!

With the front garden prepped for the roofers and the scaffolding being moved round to the front,

we were ready to crack on with the next job.

The weather, as I’ve mentioned, was warming up, this could only mean one thing.

Chickens!

Hang on, first we had to fence off the rear of the garden next to our barn. The track goes out onto the road into the hamlet and we didn’t want them wandering onto the road. Granted, it’s not busy apart from tractors but it will also be useful when the puppy arrives too!!

 

The serene, peaceful ambience of this photo belies the reality of its installation.

The air was blue. Again.

It had something to do with the ground being uneven and the drill not being able to find a decent fix for the bolts.

But it all works beautifully now.

On a lighter note, and to help keep Mr Clements smiley, he took delivery of a new Gas Gas Pampera, which, to you and me, is a 250cc trail motorbike.

 

He has his own bike, this is for visitors so they can go hurtling through the woods together, getting muddy and disturbing the wildlife.

Friday morning rolled around and we had a rendez vous with our neighbour Cecile, who had ordered us six hens from the breeder. We went to collect the chooks from the local market.

I did spot that he had ducklings for sale too, so watch this space.

But to get back to the poultry in question.

Cluckingham Palace was all ready to welcome, The Girls!

Their monikers are in homage to my fabulous friends at Oak Bank School, namely, the girls in the English department office. So, please let me introduce to you, in no particular order;

Zoe, the sassy member of the flock.

 Likes chocolate and prosecco. Dislikes the alarm clock.

Laura, the cheerful, chirpy chook. 

Likes camping nights around the bonfire and amateur dramatics. Dislikes fake pockets.

Christine, the slightly confused dozy daydreamer.

Likes a good book and a glass of merlot. Dislikes the patriarchy.

Kaytie, the chorus line chick.

 

Likes vegan food and escape rooms. Dislikes public speaking.

Vickie, the restful mother hen.

 Likes napping and pumpkin spiced coffee. Dislikes social media.

And finally,

Claire, the cantankerous chick.

 Likes Cineworld and cheesy topped Nachos. Dislikes slackers.

Now, the deal with chooks is, that when it starts to get dark, they put themselves to bed! I mean how good is that! Infinitely easier than children.

But on the first evening in their new home, the girls didn’t really know where their chicken coop was, or how to walk up the ramp, so Simon and I had to engage in a bit of chicken wrangling.

Now, for anyone who’s ever watched the Rocky films, you’ll know that catching a chicken is no mean feat.

But, luckily, we weren’t in training to fight Apollo Creed. And my Dad told me that if you wait until dusk the chickens will just stand still and let you grab them. Turned out he was right, as usual.

The first night, we caught them and hoisted them, squawking into the nest box entrance.

The second night, we presumed they would have worked out where they were supposed to be settling down for the night, but no.

More rounding up ensued.

Problem was, we had waited until it was quite dark in the hope that they would go into the coop by themselves. Instead, four of them had hidden under the coop, huddled into the far corner. They definitely weren’t trying to run away; in fact, they were particularly difficult to manoeuvre out from under the coop. Talk about digging your claws in!

Anyway, we managed to push them out, one by one, by means of a long stick and some gentle prodding. They then stood still long enough to put them through the front door.

“Maybe the ramp it too skinny for them to walk up?” I suggested, my own balancing ability being somewhat appalling.

“I’ll make them a new one” said Si, and sped off to The Bat Cave.

 

 

As you can see, this one is much more suitable for the feathery flock.

Now the chooks were settled in and the roofers had moved all the scaffolding round to the front of the house, we were clear to get going on the extension roof.

Firstly, the smaller joists, or chevrons en francais, had to be put in place.

We had decided that we wanted five larger beams on show once the ceiling was in place, and so Simon fitted the smaller ones while we waited for the large beams to be cut at our local sawmill. 

The next step was to cut noggins to go in between each chevron, to make sure they would be strong enough to hold the tiles.

Simon did the up high work, measuring the gaps and I cut the noggins on the chop saw.

Now we needed the big beams. We had ordered them from the sawmill about two weeks ago and unusually we hadn’t heard from the owner. Our neighbour Cecile kindly rang him for us, our French is vastly improving but telephone conversations are extraordinarily difficult. Never again will I moan about having to talk to someone with a strong accent on the phone, because now I’m the one speaking in a second language and they can’t understand me!

It turned out that Monsieur Pascal had broken his leg and was unable to cut any wood.

You know what this meant though? Simon wouldn’t have anything to occupy him!!!

Fortunately, we had an alternative source. Last year, not long after we arrived, we went to a wood yard owned by a family from Manchester. Well Simon wasted no time in getting on the blower and ordering the beams. With providence on our side, the wood was ready in a couple of days. Phew!

In the meantime, our roof tent for the truck had arrived. Simon was able to keep himself busy attaching it to the truck and checking it was all in good working order.

Our plan is to go an explore this beautiful country that we have moved to. Neither of us like laying on a beach, or staying in one place too long, so the roof tent will be ideal.

Simon is going to use half of the rear of the pick-up for a fridge, stove and sundries and the other half will kitted out for the imminent arrival of the pup!

We’ll be able to sleep on the roof and the dog will be able to sleep in the rear of the truck.

Wild camping here we come!

Clear relief at being able to negotiate the ladder.

But, there’s no rest for the wicked, as soon as we’d picked up the beams we were busy getting them ready for the roof.

Simon had to cut a notch in the end that attached to the house, and then it was just a quick lift getting them into place.

Easy really…

The latest news from Cluckingham Palace was a new found freedom for the little pack of peckers.

They were putting themselves to bed every night and had got used to me and Simon walking into the run. We thought it would be nice for them to have a bit more room to scratch around in and so fenced off a corner of the garden next to their run.

They’re having the best time, rooting around in the rockery.

Although we have changed this trellis for some proper wire since then, because Claire tried to push against her boundaries.

 

She’s got a real attitude!

Calm down Claire, it’s not nachos!

Back at the extension roof, Simon had added some extra thick beams across from the main large chevrons. These will be on show too and they add strength to the structure.

The next step will be to put a breathable paper membrane over the top of this, then batons and then the tiles. Confusingly, another name being bandied about was felt.

 I don’t know about you, but paper or felt aren’t waterproof in my book. It transpires that it’s not the fuzzy felt sort of felt and it’s not really paper. I wish people would say what they mean!

Anyway, we went and got the tiles and so onwards and upwards with the roof.

Meanwhile, the real-life roofers had finished putting all the slate tiles on the front of the roof. New zinc aluminium guttering front and back and new zinc aluminium flashing around the dormer windows in the attic.

It looks beautiful!

Here’s a before pic…

Pre rosebud pruning and gate painting also, and an after…

We just need to put in the new windows and the roof, on the outside at least, is complete. I’ve still got to go into the attic and clean up the copious quantities of dust that has sprinkled itself liberally everywhere. Around 200 years’ worth, which had accumulated under the old tiles and joists has been displaced, onto the floor.

Then the renovations in that room can begin!

We can also get started on fixing the new shutters to the windows, putting the gates back on and overhauling the garden.

But, back to the construction of the Puppy Palace roof!

The breathable membrane felt paper stuff, was going down a treat. Simon was stapling it down and I was passing up batons to nail on top of it, ready to take the tiles.

Halfway done

Notice Laura getting in the frame, as soon as your camera’s out, she’s there.

Yesterday was Simon’s birthday, so as a treat we went to a DIY shop that we’d never been to before!

When we had gone to buy the roof tiles from our local, only 60km away, Brico shop, they hadn’t had four of the breather tiles that we needed. This was a devastating blow to Simon, as we know, he is unable to wait for anything and has to do everything immediately.

While he was fiddling on the roof, I was sent to search the length and breadth of France on the computer for the four missing tiles. The breather tiles are otherwise known as ‘chatières’ which translates as cat-flap. They allow fresh air into the roof whilst letting out stale air that may have condensation in it, all very technical.

Luckily, I found some in stock in a town in the next department, called Brive-la-Gaillarde, only two hours away!

A birthday road-trip then. Well, it’s not as if there are any restaurants open is there?

We were successful in our mission, we had a slight grump on the way home as we took a wrong turning, but apart from that the birthday boy was very happy.

You know the fine Spring weather that I started the blog with? Well, it’s had a slight turn for the worse and we were forecast snow overnight. We had a plan B in case of wintery weather, because impatient as Simon is, nailing roof tiles in the snow is not an option. The windows for the attic have arrived in the shop, so we could have gone and collected them.

But we awoke this morning to just grey clouds, no snow at all, so clearly Simon saw this as a green light and was raring to get going.

Meanwhile, Christine has been trying to encourage her fellow flock members to try a bit of aerobic exercise in the mornings, although no one else seems interested, they’re more into pecking and scratching really.

Simon didn’t waste any time and was soon laying out the tiles and hammering them down.

It has started snowing now, but he’s a stubborn man and he’s got the bit between his teeth and won’t come down.

I’m going in to make a cup of tea, it’s bloody freezing!

P.S. I’m running out of PG Tips, cockwombling Brexit has put the kibosh on the supermarkets here stocking any.

If anyone wants to stuff a jiffy bag with some, they would be gratefully received!

See you soon

Other tea bags are not available!