I've met some proper local neighbours: an older couple who speak a little fast and in a mix of French and Charentais. They live in the house with a lemon-tree in a big tub by the front door (I have tub, must get lemon tree). They are also very friendly; and they keep chickens and rabbits and grow vegetables. We had a brief chat about the advantages of vegetables over flowers: she doesn't hold with things being pretty but useless.
The neighbour from across, who works for the plumber, tried to install the washing machine. Its hose is 2cm too short. Gah! He says he'll come back later and cut a hole in the sink unit to thread it through higher. I had to resort to dictionary for "cross-point screwdriver" and it isn't in there. Need my bigger dictionary. Madame came with him to say hello and if I want any household stuff to let her know because she works in a supermarket.
It's clear-sky sunshine, the birds are warbling loudly, and I shall be taking photos of the Round Table and chairs on the terrace later.
[UPDATE] Washing-machine plumbed in and ready to go. Mme the Fixer has given me a little knitted shoe with sweets in it, made for their daughter's baptism, because I missed it (well, it was before I arrived). Neighbour who keeps chickens came over to bring a present of eggs. I'm welling up!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
I know where my towel is, and wear the Lilac in remembrance
Yesterday there was a small river running by the house. The rain falls heavily between periods of bright sunshine, and so I washed my hair and dressed up (the Towel[0] wrapped round hair, and the Lilac[1] at breast, because it was the 25th of May) and then stayed at home doing 'net searches for furniture and music events and markets and routes to the railway stations.
I applied for two jobs, both editing work, with help and support from sis#3 on the terrifying business of The Covering Letter (two different letters because the two jobs are very different).
Later the sun came back and an English part-time neighbour (EPTN) came over to issue an invitation for drinkies and to meet more neighbours, this evening. And (oh the joy of BBC7) I listened to "Baldi" - about an Italian-background Franciscan lecturer in philosophy who uses semiotics to solve murders. In Dublin. With David Threlfall (the dozy one in Nightingales).
Today, two strawberries and some cherries for breakfast, eaten as they were picked. There are cherries too high for me to reach; I thought, never mind, happy birds - but it's the ants that eat them!
Other half of the ENPTN took down the planks and fastenings over one of the windows in La Grande Salle (aka the barn), so that the afternoon sun can warm the house. Later in the year I shall probably be desperately trying to cool it, but for now it's lovely to have the golden light on the stone walls.
[0] for Douglas
[1] for pterry and the Alzheimers appeal
I applied for two jobs, both editing work, with help and support from sis#3 on the terrifying business of The Covering Letter (two different letters because the two jobs are very different).
Later the sun came back and an English part-time neighbour (EPTN) came over to issue an invitation for drinkies and to meet more neighbours, this evening. And (oh the joy of BBC7) I listened to "Baldi" - about an Italian-background Franciscan lecturer in philosophy who uses semiotics to solve murders. In Dublin. With David Threlfall (the dozy one in Nightingales).
Today, two strawberries and some cherries for breakfast, eaten as they were picked. There are cherries too high for me to reach; I thought, never mind, happy birds - but it's the ants that eat them!
Other half of the ENPTN took down the planks and fastenings over one of the windows in La Grande Salle (aka the barn), so that the afternoon sun can warm the house. Later in the year I shall probably be desperately trying to cool it, but for now it's lovely to have the golden light on the stone walls.
[0] for Douglas
[1] for pterry and the Alzheimers appeal
Friday, May 23, 2008
Electrickery
The electrician who said the supply was only 20 amp phoned EDF for me. From her email:
"You have 20 Amp per phase with a 3 phase subscription.
In residential house, we usually put monophase, which makes it way simpler to wire the house. No need to have the 3 phases equilibrated. EDF will do the change on a phone call within 2 to 3 weeks for 135.26 euro. Then you can adjust your power for your need. It will depend on your heating system mostly. If all electric, I will recommend 9 KW."
135 euros, oh ouch.
So today I spent just over 30 minutes on the phone to EDF - admittedly mostly on hold, with a repeating 8 bars of clanking piano and Disney choir, which wound me up quite a bit.
Talking about strange electricity supplies in furrin is hard work for someone who doesn't understand them in any language[0]. I thought I was doing ok, but the agent decided to get a colleague who speaks a litte English to help out. We giggled quite a lot but in the end I had to go back into French for it because she couldn't even remember the numbers, let alone the word for appliance, and I can't remember what "heures creuses" is in English! She wanted to know the floor area of the house, too... it's somewhere in these papers...
Anyway, I'm booking an appointment for the changeover.
Previous owner said earlier (also a phone call in French) that there was no need to swap to monophase but it is a bit cheaper for ordinary domestic purposes. He'd had 3-phase for the woodsaw (sawmill?).
[0] Huge thanks to people who explained things on LJ and in irc
"You have 20 Amp per phase with a 3 phase subscription.
In residential house, we usually put monophase, which makes it way simpler to wire the house. No need to have the 3 phases equilibrated. EDF will do the change on a phone call within 2 to 3 weeks for 135.26 euro. Then you can adjust your power for your need. It will depend on your heating system mostly. If all electric, I will recommend 9 KW."
135 euros, oh ouch.
So today I spent just over 30 minutes on the phone to EDF - admittedly mostly on hold, with a repeating 8 bars of clanking piano and Disney choir, which wound me up quite a bit.
Talking about strange electricity supplies in furrin is hard work for someone who doesn't understand them in any language[0]. I thought I was doing ok, but the agent decided to get a colleague who speaks a litte English to help out. We giggled quite a lot but in the end I had to go back into French for it because she couldn't even remember the numbers, let alone the word for appliance, and I can't remember what "heures creuses" is in English! She wanted to know the floor area of the house, too... it's somewhere in these papers...
Anyway, I'm booking an appointment for the changeover.
Previous owner said earlier (also a phone call in French) that there was no need to swap to monophase but it is a bit cheaper for ordinary domestic purposes. He'd had 3-phase for the woodsaw (sawmill?).
[0] Huge thanks to people who explained things on LJ and in irc
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Gone are the daisies, but not for long
It was warm last night - not hot, just snug and comfortable - but I'd had two coffees while talking to the cafe-owner, and being the first coffee in a week it actually stopped me sleeping. I finally passed out in the pre-dawn as the birds started up, and had less than 3 hours before the alarm went off.
Neighbour-across-the-road came over this morning with his petrol mower and removed 20cm of grass, daisies, and assorted meadow flowers. I prefer the meadow look, but it quickly becomes impassable jungle. While he was doing it the sky clouded and rain fell, so by next week it will be ankle-deep again. He wouldn't take any money, not even for the petrol, but he says I need a jardinier and he'll ask his father who looks after the gardens on the other side of the hamlet.
I can follow what's said pretty well (barring heavy rural accent) but my mind is still going blank when I talk, so he clearly thought I don't understand much: therefore the way to communicate is to shout louder. It's amusing to be on the other end of what one thinks of as Speaking English To The Natives.
And after half an hour of rain the sun came out :)
Later there was a shock (no pun intended) - email from the electrician to say she had phoned EDF and discovered that the supply is 3-phase and needs changing, which will cost 135 euros.
Neighbour-across-the-road came over this morning with his petrol mower and removed 20cm of grass, daisies, and assorted meadow flowers. I prefer the meadow look, but it quickly becomes impassable jungle. While he was doing it the sky clouded and rain fell, so by next week it will be ankle-deep again. He wouldn't take any money, not even for the petrol, but he says I need a jardinier and he'll ask his father who looks after the gardens on the other side of the hamlet.
I can follow what's said pretty well (barring heavy rural accent) but my mind is still going blank when I talk, so he clearly thought I don't understand much: therefore the way to communicate is to shout louder. It's amusing to be on the other end of what one thinks of as Speaking English To The Natives.
And after half an hour of rain the sun came out :)
Later there was a shock (no pun intended) - email from the electrician to say she had phoned EDF and discovered that the supply is 3-phase and needs changing, which will cost 135 euros.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
It's been a week now!
A photo of the 3-piece suite offered by the removal man showed a brown cottage-style in mediocre nick, for which he wants 280 euros. I declined. Websearching for furniture was rather depressing: everything seems so expensive, or in the case of secondhand stuff needs to be collected. Ikea turns out to be probably the cheapest option, although they want 89 euros + tax for delivery. I decided to wait and see if anything else turns up. Looking for microwave oven was a shock, too, on comparing with UK prices.
Eventually I went out to the Super U to buy dustpan, can-opener, and trowel. Turning right at the top of the road instead of left, I wandered past a place which sells strawberries and a bit further on two grand new houses in the style of Roman villas, before finding the road to Mirambeau. I got the trowel first, and forgot the other things because of the distraction of a microwave on sale, and a very cheap cafetiere, and a kettle which was kind of middling price, all of which I acquired. No worries now if the gaz runs out :).
On the way back I went to the cafe in St Dizant centre. It has wifi! Another thing to tell the estate agent. Madame cafe-owner gave me several phone numbers for musical groups and events. There's a big building called the Foyer Rural which houses local organisations (I think it is a kind of community and arts centre with offices).
This evening was warm after a hot day. I did some gardening and met some neighbours; asked if they knew anyone who would cut the grass and yes! Neighbour-across-the-road will do it.
And finally a warning: do not put worcester sauce on salad in mistake for balsamic vinegar.
Eventually I went out to the Super U to buy dustpan, can-opener, and trowel. Turning right at the top of the road instead of left, I wandered past a place which sells strawberries and a bit further on two grand new houses in the style of Roman villas, before finding the road to Mirambeau. I got the trowel first, and forgot the other things because of the distraction of a microwave on sale, and a very cheap cafetiere, and a kettle which was kind of middling price, all of which I acquired. No worries now if the gaz runs out :).
On the way back I went to the cafe in St Dizant centre. It has wifi! Another thing to tell the estate agent. Madame cafe-owner gave me several phone numbers for musical groups and events. There's a big building called the Foyer Rural which houses local organisations (I think it is a kind of community and arts centre with offices).
This evening was warm after a hot day. I did some gardening and met some neighbours; asked if they knew anyone who would cut the grass and yes! Neighbour-across-the-road will do it.
And finally a warning: do not put worcester sauce on salad in mistake for balsamic vinegar.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Exploring and builders' estimates
Various phone-calls about the removal van resulted in revised plans: they will collect from Suffolk on Saturday and deliver here on Wednesday next week.
Went to the farm on the south side of St Dizant, which sells vegetables. I bought asparagus and lettuce because that was all they had left by this time of day. Looks like they sell to the shops. Thence to the little supermarket (called "1000 Frais et 1 Fred", Fred being Madame's name); very friendly couple who like to practise English. They gave me directions to the nearest cash machine, in St Fort sur Gironde CA so there will be a charge for using my card; the nearest HSBC is in Royan, 26 miles away, and it's cheaper to pay the charge.
Returned via Port Maubert, which is very pretty: pancakes and boats and the well-known restaurant L'Ecluse, and only 5 miles away.
More signs for poneys and poney clubs; donkeys are popular as well. Sometime last week I passed a western-riding-style ranchette, but I can't remember where.
I know when I'm getting near home because I can see one of the two water towers (Le Rivalard is between two towers). The one on the estuary-side is shaped a bit like a cocktail glass but longer.
Back just as Camille and Benoit Chambon of Casa Nova arrived to assess the work. Much shaking of head and sharp intake of breath. The crumbly wall is not a problem, though - it's salt-petre and caused by damp.
They spent ages measuring and discussing, and took away a floor plan to make drawings. I asked for estimates for separate jobs so I can see which can be done, explaining that "the pound..." ah yes, all the English are having trouble now. The first thing will be roof insulation, though, otherwise it's going to be chilly in the winter.
The electricity supply is only 20 amps and should be at least 30. Camille says I can't put on the oven at the same time as anything else.
Most of the renovation work was in fact done by the owner before the one who sold it to me. Last owner had planned to do things but didn't get round to much except some lighting before his heart attack. Ah, and most of the electrical supplies in the garage aren't usable because they're no longer legal.
They found rodent-traps upstairs at the back, with little bodies in them. Not mice, and not rats either. They think they may be loirs. Squirrel-like things. Protected. :(
As they left they said if I need things moving or bed building, to phone them :)
Went to the farm on the south side of St Dizant, which sells vegetables. I bought asparagus and lettuce because that was all they had left by this time of day. Looks like they sell to the shops. Thence to the little supermarket (called "1000 Frais et 1 Fred", Fred being Madame's name); very friendly couple who like to practise English. They gave me directions to the nearest cash machine, in St Fort sur Gironde CA so there will be a charge for using my card; the nearest HSBC is in Royan, 26 miles away, and it's cheaper to pay the charge.
Returned via Port Maubert, which is very pretty: pancakes and boats and the well-known restaurant L'Ecluse, and only 5 miles away.
More signs for poneys and poney clubs; donkeys are popular as well. Sometime last week I passed a western-riding-style ranchette, but I can't remember where.
I know when I'm getting near home because I can see one of the two water towers (Le Rivalard is between two towers). The one on the estuary-side is shaped a bit like a cocktail glass but longer.
Back just as Camille and Benoit Chambon of Casa Nova arrived to assess the work. Much shaking of head and sharp intake of breath. The crumbly wall is not a problem, though - it's salt-petre and caused by damp.
They spent ages measuring and discussing, and took away a floor plan to make drawings. I asked for estimates for separate jobs so I can see which can be done, explaining that "the pound..." ah yes, all the English are having trouble now. The first thing will be roof insulation, though, otherwise it's going to be chilly in the winter.
The electricity supply is only 20 amps and should be at least 30. Camille says I can't put on the oven at the same time as anything else.
Most of the renovation work was in fact done by the owner before the one who sold it to me. Last owner had planned to do things but didn't get round to much except some lighting before his heart attack. Ah, and most of the electrical supplies in the garage aren't usable because they're no longer legal.
They found rodent-traps upstairs at the back, with little bodies in them. Not mice, and not rats either. They think they may be loirs. Squirrel-like things. Protected. :(
As they left they said if I need things moving or bed building, to phone them :)
Furnishing
I have coffee table! :) Got charged 5 euros for delivery so it cost 10 euros, but that's still not bad. Now I need to find a cash machine rather urgently...
I heard the boulanger at 11am. The van stops at my gate, but I couldn't find any money at all! He doesn't deliver every day as the estate agent said, only Monday and Thursday. No money and the bread smelled wonderful :-/
New fridge and washing machine have been ordered. All the second-hand ones seem to be D, which would hurt, and besides I couldn't do the transport thing myself so that would be added to the cost. This was on a free-delivery-before-end-May deal. I took the 5-year guarantee for the fridge but not the washing machine. May regret it, but 106 euros is a lot, and it's usually easier to find washing machine repairers. I hope.
Oh bother, there's nowhere to plumb it in.
I heard the boulanger at 11am. The van stops at my gate, but I couldn't find any money at all! He doesn't deliver every day as the estate agent said, only Monday and Thursday. No money and the bread smelled wonderful :-/
New fridge and washing machine have been ordered. All the second-hand ones seem to be D, which would hurt, and besides I couldn't do the transport thing myself so that would be added to the cost. This was on a free-delivery-before-end-May deal. I took the 5-year guarantee for the fridge but not the washing machine. May regret it, but 106 euros is a lot, and it's usually easier to find washing machine repairers. I hope.
Oh bother, there's nowhere to plumb it in.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Sliding through mud
Out for a evening wander and I managed to do a bit of unplanned rallying - I'm sure it was a road on the map, but on the edge of a hamlet the tarmac ended and it became a track. I carried on hoping it was but a brief grassy interlude, but after skidding sideways through a wood Lillie was not amused to find herself in a field, and sulked a bit on the way back.
Somewhere round here there is a lot of lavender and it smells wonderful :)
[UPDATE] There is a bat in the house!
Somewhere round here there is a lot of lavender and it smells wonderful :)
[UPDATE] There is a bat in the house!
Sunday bargains at the brocante
The phone worked!
Eventually I checked email and found a reply to my forum post about needing a houseload of stuff - there was a brocante in Boisredon, only 15 miles away. Today.
Swift exit, and with only one tiny unplanned detour I found Boisredon. There was no problem finding the brocante: it filled the village. A brocante, it seems, is what carbootsales used to be before professional traders took over. This was three streets of trestle tables and a mad range of stuff (including old agricultural implements), plus a marquee-cafe... with live music!
Now, for 54 euros, I have 4 dining chairs, some glasses, plates, bowls, and cups and saucers (they weren't necessary but it is a set). I paid another 5 euros for a coffee table and then wondered how to get it in the car - no problem, said the vendor, he'll deliver it. I said isn't it a bit far? but he seemed sure so we'll see.
Going home it began to rain hard, so I abandoned the idea of looking for a cafe. However, I noticed a sign for a restaurant called La Locomotive ;)
It's sunny again and I've been taking photos of the kitchen. A lizard just ran up to the kitchen door.
Eventually I checked email and found a reply to my forum post about needing a houseload of stuff - there was a brocante in Boisredon, only 15 miles away. Today.
Swift exit, and with only one tiny unplanned detour I found Boisredon. There was no problem finding the brocante: it filled the village. A brocante, it seems, is what carbootsales used to be before professional traders took over. This was three streets of trestle tables and a mad range of stuff (including old agricultural implements), plus a marquee-cafe... with live music!
Now, for 54 euros, I have 4 dining chairs, some glasses, plates, bowls, and cups and saucers (they weren't necessary but it is a set). I paid another 5 euros for a coffee table and then wondered how to get it in the car - no problem, said the vendor, he'll deliver it. I said isn't it a bit far? but he seemed sure so we'll see.
Going home it began to rain hard, so I abandoned the idea of looking for a cafe. However, I noticed a sign for a restaurant called La Locomotive ;)
It's sunny again and I've been taking photos of the kitchen. A lizard just ran up to the kitchen door.
Saturday
ADSL is working, though Vista says it can't get onto the wifi though it can see it. Deal with that later.
Apart from catching up on email and such, I spent the day moving things around. Also went upstairs for the first time. The stairs are... interesting. On the to-do list is Get Proper Staircase.
The bedroom upstairs is sweet. It's big, but having a sloping roof and window at floor level makes it feel like something out of a Victorian children's book.
The mezzanine will need more work than I realised to make it into a sitting room - for a start, the railing around it is makeshift.
Downstairs it's easy to see where the dining-room was planned, and the heap of materials includes wall thingies and floor tiles. Just need someone to do it.
Using the phone failed, and I don't know why but I'm too sleepy to do any more searching of French websites.
Apart from catching up on email and such, I spent the day moving things around. Also went upstairs for the first time. The stairs are... interesting. On the to-do list is Get Proper Staircase.
The bedroom upstairs is sweet. It's big, but having a sloping roof and window at floor level makes it feel like something out of a Victorian children's book.
The mezzanine will need more work than I realised to make it into a sitting room - for a start, the railing around it is makeshift.
Downstairs it's easy to see where the dining-room was planned, and the heap of materials includes wall thingies and floor tiles. Just need someone to do it.
Using the phone failed, and I don't know why but I'm too sleepy to do any more searching of French websites.
Friday - settling in
Rain! A waterfall of rain. You can hear the grass growing. It rains really heavily then stops and the sun comes out; and then rains a little while later. Timing the dashes to empty the car is important.
Really need to put up insect screens. There are bees and there are BEES.
Curious. Everyone I've asked has said there are no local buses, so why is there a bus parked against the back wall of the barn?
Into the town to see what is there. The mairie is very grand for a small town, though they apologised for not having wheelchair access yet. The secretary photocopied a map for me, so I can see where the roads are just around here.
Whenever I've asked about shops people have said there is nothing much in St Dizant, and the supermarket is in Mirambeau (7-8 miles away), where there is a weekly market too. The disregarded shop in St Dizant is actually a small supermarket and post office. It has 'net, too! I considered trying the restaurant to see if they do just coffee, but it started to rain again.
Went home and ate rather a lot of local strawberries, which taste like alpines but are big.
Using the phone failed, and I don't know why but I'm too sleepy to do any more searching of French websites.
Really need to put up insect screens. There are bees and there are BEES.
Curious. Everyone I've asked has said there are no local buses, so why is there a bus parked against the back wall of the barn?
Into the town to see what is there. The mairie is very grand for a small town, though they apologised for not having wheelchair access yet. The secretary photocopied a map for me, so I can see where the roads are just around here.
Whenever I've asked about shops people have said there is nothing much in St Dizant, and the supermarket is in Mirambeau (7-8 miles away), where there is a weekly market too. The disregarded shop in St Dizant is actually a small supermarket and post office. It has 'net, too! I considered trying the restaurant to see if they do just coffee, but it started to rain again.
Went home and ate rather a lot of local strawberries, which taste like alpines but are big.
Using the phone failed, and I don't know why but I'm too sleepy to do any more searching of French websites.
First full day in the house
Good thing I got up early, because the Man From The EDF arrived about 10:30 instead of 14:00. I didn't hear him knock, but he opened the door and called. He changed the box for a new one and asked if I wanted to stay on heures creuses: for simplicity I said yes, though I have no clue if it will actually be cheaper with my usage patterns.
A little while later, la factrice (postie) knocked too. I wonder why people don't use the bell? It's a proper bell, rather like Owl's; perhaps I should have a notice about knocking and ringing? [A A Milne reference]. She was very friendly and said I should ask her if I need to know anything. I should have asked where to find her.
It was warm but not hot, perfect for a short ride out on Broomstick to explore the hamlet. To the right, direction St Ciers du Taillon, there are wheatfields. I wonder if there's a working mill here. The road which looks on the map to be the most direct route to St Dizant turns into a grass lane just beyond two houses under construction, and it swoops down into the valley. Discretion won, and I left it for a day when I'm not alone.
I didn't really speak to anyone. There was an old man out for a walk, and we exchanged bonjours, but I couldn't really follow his accent. I called bonjour to a woman hanging out washing in her garden, and waved to two people in fields, and that was it.
On arrival back at the drive, Broomstick died briefly with the old electrical fault which was supposed to be fixed (I paid £50 for that job!). This makes me nervous about using it, because if I went to the village via footpaths I could get stranded, and via the road it's almost 3 miles; besides, there isn't much traffic and I could wait a long time for help.
The ADSL isn't on yet, but I have a book to read.
A little while later, la factrice (postie) knocked too. I wonder why people don't use the bell? It's a proper bell, rather like Owl's; perhaps I should have a notice about knocking and ringing? [A A Milne reference]. She was very friendly and said I should ask her if I need to know anything. I should have asked where to find her.
It was warm but not hot, perfect for a short ride out on Broomstick to explore the hamlet. To the right, direction St Ciers du Taillon, there are wheatfields. I wonder if there's a working mill here. The road which looks on the map to be the most direct route to St Dizant turns into a grass lane just beyond two houses under construction, and it swoops down into the valley. Discretion won, and I left it for a day when I'm not alone.
I didn't really speak to anyone. There was an old man out for a walk, and we exchanged bonjours, but I couldn't really follow his accent. I called bonjour to a woman hanging out washing in her garden, and waved to two people in fields, and that was it.
On arrival back at the drive, Broomstick died briefly with the old electrical fault which was supposed to be fixed (I paid £50 for that job!). This makes me nervous about using it, because if I went to the village via footpaths I could get stranded, and via the road it's almost 3 miles; besides, there isn't much traffic and I could wait a long time for help.
The ADSL isn't on yet, but I have a book to read.
The Big Day
Woke up early to wash in cold water and went into Mirambeau where I found a cafe-bar opposite the notaire's office. Everyone said bonjour, and some even shook hands (with me, too). Unlike in some cafes, the other customers nearby didn't talk to me, but they smiled in a friendly way; they seemed a bit clique-y (some people went straight to the rear of the bar and didn't shake hands).
To the notaire. There is so much paperwork with buying a house in France that the notaire plants a tree for each transaction. This probably deters people from moving often, though the cost of buying also has something to do with it (the estate agent's fee was 10,000 euros and the notaire's fee plus taxes came to 10,918 euros). The notaire has to make sure everything is understood, too, so the process took nearly two hours: much of it because we had to sign or initial every single page, although the last 20-30 minutes was just the Potrons, winding up their mortgage. I waited for them so I could follow them to the house - I'd have got lost otherwise. It was all very jolly though, and the notaire tried a bit of English and fell about laughing.
The Potrons drove to Le Rivalard via a brief stop at the pharmacy in St Ciers du Taillon, and I followed, noting the filling station and restaurant. Mme came to chat to me while M got his prescription: she was most upset about the furniture, because they had made lots of trips to the social-charity place to donate most of theirs, including beds, chairs, the washing machine (old but sturdy), and her beloved Henri Deux bureau. She kept saying: if only the estate agent had told them... ah well, too late now.
From St Ciers du Taillon, which is on the D730, the route suddenly plunges into twisting country lanes. Though not far, it's confusing - 3 miles seems a long way - but we rounded a bend and there was Le Rivalard. M Potron opened the shutters (Charentais blue, of course) and stepped back, saying "à vous l'honneur" and I opened the door with my own key.
I was too out-of-it and tired to take in everything they told me: explaining the wiring, the oven, the propane and where to buy it, the electrical system (having to change the box because it was super and I shan't need that), how to set the water heating for "heures creuses". I promptly forgot where to buy propane, and as for the wiring and which sockets are live and what the junction boxes unpstairs are for... eep. They gave me some documents about the house - plans and such, and a photo of what it looked like when they bought it. There was no garden then, just the big old tree.
So we went on a tour of the garden, especially the roses. The two cherry trees seem fine but the poor nectarine was frost-bitten after the flowers set in that freeze Europe had after a hot start to the spring; it looks like it may manage two fruits with luck. There are hazelnuts, too.
They have left the old vacuum cleaner, which will be handy though I really need a mop because all the floors which aren't bare lumpy concrete are tiled.
When they'd gone I went looking for the bank in Royan. Royan is a big port and seaside resort. Driving round it is not nice. Had to be done, though, because my access code hadn't turned up in .uk and I couldn't phone to get my card activated without it. They re-sent it, but until it arrives I don't know what's going on in my account and it's not simple because of all the fees and bank charges.
I also needed to find France Telecom. It had moved. By the time I did locate the new shop, it was quite late, but it was still open and very busy and they were taking names to call people when it was their turn. I'd planned to get a phone line and then Free which seems to be the best deal, but Thierry-the-sales said I could have their plan which includes free calls to Europe, was the same price as Free, and could be connected straight away. I was already desperate for a net-fix so I agreed, and bought a phone as well. He had several goes at explaining that if I have a landline it's 16 euros a month on top, but internet phone comes in which the internet price. It means if there's a power cut or the ADSL falls over I have no phone, so I bought a payg mobile too.
I returned via the beach at St Georges de Didonne, about which I have raved before, to anyone who would listen. For a warm sunny evening, it was strangely empty; mostly runners. I reminds me of Canford Cliffs just south of Poole. I got a little lost taking the coast road back, but it was very pretty.
Unpacked the most urgent things, and by now extremely tired.
Orange payg mobile. hmm, seems there's no Orange signal here. oops.
And so to bed.
To the notaire. There is so much paperwork with buying a house in France that the notaire plants a tree for each transaction. This probably deters people from moving often, though the cost of buying also has something to do with it (the estate agent's fee was 10,000 euros and the notaire's fee plus taxes came to 10,918 euros). The notaire has to make sure everything is understood, too, so the process took nearly two hours: much of it because we had to sign or initial every single page, although the last 20-30 minutes was just the Potrons, winding up their mortgage. I waited for them so I could follow them to the house - I'd have got lost otherwise. It was all very jolly though, and the notaire tried a bit of English and fell about laughing.
The Potrons drove to Le Rivalard via a brief stop at the pharmacy in St Ciers du Taillon, and I followed, noting the filling station and restaurant. Mme came to chat to me while M got his prescription: she was most upset about the furniture, because they had made lots of trips to the social-charity place to donate most of theirs, including beds, chairs, the washing machine (old but sturdy), and her beloved Henri Deux bureau. She kept saying: if only the estate agent had told them... ah well, too late now.
From St Ciers du Taillon, which is on the D730, the route suddenly plunges into twisting country lanes. Though not far, it's confusing - 3 miles seems a long way - but we rounded a bend and there was Le Rivalard. M Potron opened the shutters (Charentais blue, of course) and stepped back, saying "à vous l'honneur" and I opened the door with my own key.
I was too out-of-it and tired to take in everything they told me: explaining the wiring, the oven, the propane and where to buy it, the electrical system (having to change the box because it was super and I shan't need that), how to set the water heating for "heures creuses". I promptly forgot where to buy propane, and as for the wiring and which sockets are live and what the junction boxes unpstairs are for... eep. They gave me some documents about the house - plans and such, and a photo of what it looked like when they bought it. There was no garden then, just the big old tree.
So we went on a tour of the garden, especially the roses. The two cherry trees seem fine but the poor nectarine was frost-bitten after the flowers set in that freeze Europe had after a hot start to the spring; it looks like it may manage two fruits with luck. There are hazelnuts, too.
They have left the old vacuum cleaner, which will be handy though I really need a mop because all the floors which aren't bare lumpy concrete are tiled.
When they'd gone I went looking for the bank in Royan. Royan is a big port and seaside resort. Driving round it is not nice. Had to be done, though, because my access code hadn't turned up in .uk and I couldn't phone to get my card activated without it. They re-sent it, but until it arrives I don't know what's going on in my account and it's not simple because of all the fees and bank charges.
I also needed to find France Telecom. It had moved. By the time I did locate the new shop, it was quite late, but it was still open and very busy and they were taking names to call people when it was their turn. I'd planned to get a phone line and then Free which seems to be the best deal, but Thierry-the-sales said I could have their plan which includes free calls to Europe, was the same price as Free, and could be connected straight away. I was already desperate for a net-fix so I agreed, and bought a phone as well. He had several goes at explaining that if I have a landline it's 16 euros a month on top, but internet phone comes in which the internet price. It means if there's a power cut or the ADSL falls over I have no phone, so I bought a payg mobile too.
I returned via the beach at St Georges de Didonne, about which I have raved before, to anyone who would listen. For a warm sunny evening, it was strangely empty; mostly runners. I reminds me of Canford Cliffs just south of Poole. I got a little lost taking the coast road back, but it was very pretty.
Unpacked the most urgent things, and by now extremely tired.
Orange payg mobile. hmm, seems there's no Orange signal here. oops.
And so to bed.
The journey to my new home
Monday late evening: packed everything possible into the car, having to discard a few things (including, it seems, some of the food!) and drove down to Folkestone via road closures south of the Bridge. Eurotunnel terminal was silent and empty, with an automated check-in. I'd chosen the time for cheapness - £39 instead of £115 at peak daytime - and it obviously isn't popular.
I was early, so went for a coffee while waiting to be called to the train. Very friendly staff, seemed to be glad to have someone to talk to. A few other people turned out before it was time to drive to customs/passport control. There was a short delay while a white transit van ahead of me was taken aside for dismantling or something. That and my car were the only vehicles in the queue. The customs person asked me where I was going and if I was moving to France, but in a chatty way. He also said good evening to George Humphrey who was on the front passenger seat, as did the next person who was apparently there only to ask if we had any gas in the car.
Passport controller said bonsoir and nothing more. I waved my passport and he shook his head so I drove through without showing any documents. Not even a gas bill. When one compares this to the pain of travelling by plane now...
There was a 5-minute delay for the train, but even by then there weren't many other vehicles so they only opened the doors at the rear. This meant, as first on, I had to drive the full length of the train. It took ages at 5mph or so; felt like I'd driven as far as France. The train was very bouncy, which may have been because it wasn't fully loaded, or maybe the tracks aren't as smooth as when I used to use the shuttle (not since the price went up a lot).
I'd planned to drive down by the shortest route (Lillie is a longterm hire and has now gone up to the allowed mileage, so it's 5p a mile). In the end, I couldn't find the roads and stuck to the autoroute. Péage was tedious, having to get out of the car because of being on the wrong side, but at least I didn't get lost. Or not much. ahem.
Not having slept much Sunday night, and then not at all Monday night, I got tired quickly. Stopped several times for a brief nap, but still arrived at Mirambeau well in time to meet Polly the estate agent and go to get the insurance documents (one of the fiddly but sensible French paperwork things is that the house insurance has to be in place before you take possession).
We went to check the house, which appears much bigger now it's empty. The previous owners turned up too, and helped take some bags and stuff into the house. M Potron was amused by Broomstick. Polly took GH in to look after the house. The Potrons were shocked that I had so little stuff, and said they would leave the mattress that was in the bedroom so I don't have to sleep on the floor.
We had a look round the garage-workshop, which will make a lovely gite. It took some time explaining the water system (have to turn off the outside taps in winter in case of frost) and where the fosse is, and they told me to be careful of the well because it's 15 metres deep. Covered, though.
Back to Mirambeau, following Polly and still bewildered by the little lanes. Couldn't find the Super U fuel station/supermarket, and drove to Jonzac instead, then came back and found the signs to Super U quite clear from that direction.
Jonzac is gorgeous. It's also the nearest railway station; anyone flying to Bordeaux or taking the TGV to Bordeaux or Angouleme would then catch a train to Jonzac and call me for a lift. (If I'm not there, get a taxi. There may be buses in this direction, but nothing comes right to Le Rivalard.)
Spent the night parked next to a wood; slept fairly well, but with some very strange dreams!
I was early, so went for a coffee while waiting to be called to the train. Very friendly staff, seemed to be glad to have someone to talk to. A few other people turned out before it was time to drive to customs/passport control. There was a short delay while a white transit van ahead of me was taken aside for dismantling or something. That and my car were the only vehicles in the queue. The customs person asked me where I was going and if I was moving to France, but in a chatty way. He also said good evening to George Humphrey who was on the front passenger seat, as did the next person who was apparently there only to ask if we had any gas in the car.
Passport controller said bonsoir and nothing more. I waved my passport and he shook his head so I drove through without showing any documents. Not even a gas bill. When one compares this to the pain of travelling by plane now...
There was a 5-minute delay for the train, but even by then there weren't many other vehicles so they only opened the doors at the rear. This meant, as first on, I had to drive the full length of the train. It took ages at 5mph or so; felt like I'd driven as far as France. The train was very bouncy, which may have been because it wasn't fully loaded, or maybe the tracks aren't as smooth as when I used to use the shuttle (not since the price went up a lot).
I'd planned to drive down by the shortest route (Lillie is a longterm hire and has now gone up to the allowed mileage, so it's 5p a mile). In the end, I couldn't find the roads and stuck to the autoroute. Péage was tedious, having to get out of the car because of being on the wrong side, but at least I didn't get lost. Or not much. ahem.
Not having slept much Sunday night, and then not at all Monday night, I got tired quickly. Stopped several times for a brief nap, but still arrived at Mirambeau well in time to meet Polly the estate agent and go to get the insurance documents (one of the fiddly but sensible French paperwork things is that the house insurance has to be in place before you take possession).
We went to check the house, which appears much bigger now it's empty. The previous owners turned up too, and helped take some bags and stuff into the house. M Potron was amused by Broomstick. Polly took GH in to look after the house. The Potrons were shocked that I had so little stuff, and said they would leave the mattress that was in the bedroom so I don't have to sleep on the floor.
We had a look round the garage-workshop, which will make a lovely gite. It took some time explaining the water system (have to turn off the outside taps in winter in case of frost) and where the fosse is, and they told me to be careful of the well because it's 15 metres deep. Covered, though.
Back to Mirambeau, following Polly and still bewildered by the little lanes. Couldn't find the Super U fuel station/supermarket, and drove to Jonzac instead, then came back and found the signs to Super U quite clear from that direction.
Jonzac is gorgeous. It's also the nearest railway station; anyone flying to Bordeaux or taking the TGV to Bordeaux or Angouleme would then catch a train to Jonzac and call me for a lift. (If I'm not there, get a taxi. There may be buses in this direction, but nothing comes right to Le Rivalard.)
Spent the night parked next to a wood; slept fairly well, but with some very strange dreams!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Moving
I'm moving to France today.
Anyone know a good way to get ADSL? They all look so expensive. Unfortunately the line seems to be non dégroupée.
Anyone know a good way to get ADSL? They all look so expensive. Unfortunately the line seems to be non dégroupée.
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