On Monday we did some serious shopping and bought far too much food and drink for the little housewarming "apéro". Everyone I'd invited directly turned up, though the young French couple with baby came late and didn't stay long. The French-English divide was only slightly uncomfortable at first, and ended with the older French neighbour gleefully demonstrating all his English (or at least the clean phrases, with his wife keeping an eye on him).
People had a look round the place and confirmed their opinion that I am quite mad to be here alone. I explained that the original plan wasn't to have been here by myself, it just all fell down and I carried on anyway. Ah, yes: that's the mad part. EPTN#1 advises me to sell up immediately and take the loss. Well, I may have to, but not until there's been some music in that huge room.
Neighbour offered to help sister clear out the traps and check what the beasties are. They bagged and chucked the easy ones, leaving one disintegrated body for later as it needed a shovel. He was most insistent that they should put back the traps, but I refused. I can stand the thought of live beasties, but not traps. And they were rats. However, the bodies are old and there were empty traps, with no sign of current inhabitation. I still think there have been pole-cats up there (they would have scared rats away). Rats don't smell like that.
Tuesday
Took Broomstick to the garage in the village. They were a trifle bemused as it came out of the boot and was assembled. As soon as the mech touched it, it started up. We had a laugh about taking a sick machine to the doctor and he said the same happens to him when he has toothache and goes to the dentist. And then he tried it again and it died. Both the brothers had left the cars they were working on and started to check the cables and contacts, quickly finding the odd one that the UEA electrician had cut and soldered and deciding that was the problem patch. Bit of fiddling and scraping and a lot of WD40 later, Broomstick was working nicely. I put their phone number in my mobile, because they will come out when called. They may be called out to fix Broomstick on a farm track sometime. Of course they didn't know what to charge and left it up to me so I gave them 10 euros. It had only been a few minutes, but WD40 is very expensive here. Aha! That's what I meant to ask wendles to bring!
We wanted to sample coffee in a real French caff but discovered the little bar was closed (every Tuesday apparently), so went to the bar-restaurant at St Ciers du Taillon about 5 miles away. It's run by an English family, and unfortunately the coffee was English though the lunches at nearby tables looked French and good. Curious how in Poitou-Charente the English have taken over so many restaurants.
We spent the evening with people from the next hamlet, in their lovely, small, well-renovated house full of things they have acquired while working in South America and Indonesia.
Wednesday
We drove round rather a lot of Charente Maritime, taking in Saintes: St Eutrope and the crypt, the monastery where the tourist office is, the Arch of Germanicus, Roman amphitheatre, and the river (note to take a boat-ride on the river sometime). http://www.ot-saintes.fr/
From Saintes to my favourite beach at St Georges de Didonne. Although we left going to the beach until early evening, the sunlight was still too strong to be out in for long. I was most disappointed that the plastic path to the sea wasn't there - perhaps it's put down later in the summer when holiday season proper starts. And we had pancakes.
Fortified by pancakes and the accompanying sugar-rush, sis#3 went upstairs when we got home and cleared out the rest of the traps and ratness.
No comments:
Post a Comment