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Dec 10th.
We have been here 3 weeks to the day, and have a routine. I
wanted to leave ‘routine’ out of my life, but it is insidious.
The start of the day revolves around getting Lucy to school. This
has to be done so that her arrival enables her to reach the classroom
just in time to greet her friends and classmates, but is not so early
that she has to stand around listening to chatter which she doesn’t
understand. Of course, she mustn’t be late either, so I find that
allowing plenty of time but altering the route to town can make the
necessary fine adjustment. (Is
Lucy twisting him round her little finger, or are Dad and Daughter
rather special people? Keep it up, both of you. You're doing well -
and the fact that Chris is quietly holding all this together hasn't
escaped our notice....)
I can then get on with whatever project is most pressing. At the
moment it is the bathroom. The existing bathroom is on the ground
floor in the location we would like the kitchen to be. On the first
floor is a room constructed last summer to form the ‘new’
bathroom. As I have also to convert le grenier (the attic or
loft) to the suite of rooms that will be Lucy’s area, she is using
the new bathroom as a temporary bedroom. (I'm sure readers will
all remember playing that game where you slide the numbers round the
square, trying to arrange them in the correct order. How many of you
took the game to bits and re-assembled it with the numbers in the
required order? It's OK to do that these days - they call it
Thinking Outside The Box.)
This is fine until I actually fit the ‘working’ parts,
particularly the WC, and the time is close. I have excavated the
existing exterior drainage system that runs to a fosse septique (septic
tank - don't even think of DIY building in France unless you're an
expert on fosses septiques) on the ‘foul’ side, and to the
village storm drains for the sink wastes and rainwater. We will have
mains drainage in about 11 months time, so everything has to be
modified with this in mind. Simple it ain’t.
I also had to excavate below the house wall where the pipes
enter. The walls are 90cm of granite. For a while, I felt that I was
‘Big X’ tunnelling out of Colditz. To accommodate the 100mm
pipes running vertically from attic to below ground level, I had to
remove part of the wall in the entrance hall. (Now you know what
the picture above is about....)
It was while I was demolishing the inner wall that the man from
France Telecom arrived to fit our phone lines and sockets. He was
rather a dour guy in his early 30s, who refused any sort of liquid
refreshment and was singularly uncommunicative, which struck us as
odd, considering his profession. He was in the main bedroom, fitting
an extension, when he asked if I could make a small hole in the
lounge wall so that he could feed the cable through and down to the
main incomer position.
Now a careful study of the pictures will reveal the construction
of my inner walls. They are a honeycombed terracotta block about
30x20 cms, and quite tricky to make holes in. I gave a light tap
with a normal hammer and cold chisel to the most convenient block so
as to form the desired hole for the cable. This resulted in a
complete block being dislodged. Well, it made threading the cable
quite easy - but the Telecom guy's face was a delight, when he came
to look.

He stared at the hole (see above), his jaw slackened, his eyes
widened, and I thought he was about to burst into tears. I really
thought he was going to turn tail and do a runner.
I reassured him telling him ‘tout les Anglais est crazy’, and
he got on with the installation.
Those of you contemplating fitting curtain rails in French
houses should beware, too. Some modern houses have a steel
I-beam (an RSJ to the Brits) above the wide windows,
with the hollow filled with these honeycombed bricks, rather than
the reinforced concrete lintel of a typical UK house. In the UK, you
end up with a pile of shattered carbide-tipped bits and a hammer
drill with no bearings. In France, you need to buy a selection of
fancy rawlplugs in the hope that one of them will give your screws
enough grip to support the heavy pelmet and double curtains your
partner took three weeks to find.
It was then lunch time, so he went off to the next village to
lunch at the bar (ours being still shut of course). I would love to
have been a fly on the wall. I can just hear him telling them how he
wanted a small hole for his cable, and the mad Englishman
practically demolished his lounge wall supplying one! I bet he
drinks out on the story for weeks. At least he was more cheerful
when he came back, but that could have been due the alcoholic
component of his lunch.
Being on the ’phone has changed our lives for the better. To be
in full contact with friends and relatives, and with access to the
net, is an almighty step forward. We were beginning to be a little
‘detached’ in more ways than one, so we are much happier now.
Our advance from the bank has also arrived, adding further to our
happiness.

Christmas will be upon us in a fortnight. Our village has taken
external lights to dizzy heights. Quite literally when you look at
the church spire! They have used the ’new’ tubular lights in
various colours to form animals, holly, bells, triskels etc, and
hung them on all the houses and posts from one end of the village to
the other. The church has all its front architecture picked out with
variously coloured tubes of light, and it is all so impressive that
streams of visiting cars come from the nearby town of Rostrenen and
from the surrounding villages, just to see the display. It is quite
the most stunning communal display of pride, and I am delighted to
be part of it.
You will have noticed that I have made little comment about the
bar. It is because there is nothing to say yet! The seller has had
to get another Notaire, as the ’family retainer’ is no longer
retained. Rumours are rife about the Notaire, but I feel the subject
is best left without further comment. Suffice to say that progress
is slow. No, progress is nil. It gives me time to work on my house,
but does cause me a little concern. I really need to have the 3
bedrooms ready for letting from Easter next year.
Although the time seems adequate, there is a lot of ‘official’
stuff to be done. We have to get cartes de séjour to run a
business in France (the prospect of anything like these official
residence permits - plastic ID cards which contain photos and other
extracts from the information recorded on a central database - make
some stay-at-home Brits foam at the mouth), and we need to
become members of the local Chambre de Commerce. We also have to get
some training so as to sell Tabac products, and to learn the
licensing laws. Of course, all these are inter-dependent and have to
be applied for concurrently. With all the areas there are for things
not to fit into place, I see a ‘catch 22’ situation in the near
distance.
Of course, it could all go without a hitch……….
* * *
Like all countries, France has its rules and regulations,
and a bureaucracy to implement them. However, it also has a strong
Alternative Society culture. To simplify installation of WCs in
ancient buildings made from lumps of rock, builders' merchants sell
a gadget known by the trade name of 'Sanibroyeur', which fits on the
WC outlet. It contains an electrically-driven shredder, allowing you
to connect the WC to the same size of pipe as that used for the sink
and shower outlets. I once lived in a cottage in an expensive suburb
of Paris where the landlady's illegal Portuguese workers had joined
shower, sink and WC outlets together and fed the whole lot into an
open ditch which ended up in the road drain, having irrigated her
orchard on the way. Since her grass was rarely mown, it formed a
natural filtering and purification bed. There was no smell,
and her apples were excellent, like the watercress we used to
harvest from the gutter in nearby Chambourcy.
* * *
If you want to congratulate or encourage John (or sympathise
with Chris and Lucy) e-mail me with
your thoughts or advice, or better still, write to the Notice
Board.
Have fun.
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