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.
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