Will the sun bring guests?

I hope the sun is here to stay after the dreadful run of wet days we've had. My snail has departed. Yeee Haaa! Lisbeth ate her lunch outside under the fig. The sun shone. The cat came to visit.

I have, therefore, given myself the gift of hope: hope that we will have a good run of visitors. Or do I mean a run of good visitors?

Last year we had great visitors. There was Bob, Mr Dancer and Mr Writer. (Or was Bob the year before?) Each brought ideas about the meaning of life, the Universe and all sorts of weird and wonderful things. The time just flew by. Mind you, after conversations with a snail, just about anything will seem like rocket science.

I'm so excited at the prospect of guests.

Lizzie Bennet Lives!

As if it weren't bad enough that I have to endure the attentions of a snail, the good lady of the house appears to be having some sort of Jane Austin seizure. She borrowed a DVD of the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice and has been all over the place mumbling stuff about 'all that suppressed passion' ever since. I can't get a sensible word out of her.

Then, yesterday, I found that she had downloaded a screen saver of Mr Darcy! AND reduced the time for it kicking in!

The place has gone mad...............................

Carpet Tiles and Life

Lisbeth has been working all day laying carpet tiles. Apparently, you start in the middle and work outwards towards the walls. When you reach the edges, the tiles don't fit, so you have to cut them. This isn't as easy as you might think because you always fit a straight edge to a straight edge so you have to measure the bit you take off from the opposite side - if you see what I mean. According to Lisbeth, although it takes ages to do, it's very satisfying to cut odd shapes of carpet that then fit well into the odd-shaped spaces on the floor.

Now one could draw a parallel between carpet tiles and life. (You could!)

You are in control of your tiles of life and how you lay them. Starting in the middle, could be like putting the most important bits in first: family, work, friends, etc, moving on to fill the gaps with bits and bobs of other things that go to make up the whole floor of life. Somewhat like the 'bucket story': big things in first because you can't get them in after you've filled up with small stuff. And, by implication, the small things that are less important.

Once a room is complete, the theory is that if one or two get marked or damaged, you can replace them with others. Can we replace damaged life tiles? I'm sure you can. You just have to accept a more sort of patchwork effect, because new tiles will not necessarily blend in well with the older, more mature ones. But patchwork life is good, when you're older. That's how we get to be more interesting and have lots to talk about.

Left behind (and sulking)

Lizzie has taken her sister back to Toulouse and I am left behind! I don't usually sulk when she goes away on her own but this time I feel particularly aggrieved because she has taken Mr Kombucha. Mr Kombucha! I really don't know why he gets to go and I get to stay.

Thursday

Well, it's Thursday and I just don't know where the time has gone. It's been all go here. Lizzie and her sister have been either working in the apartment or eating out. (I detect a little thickening around the girth but haven't said anything!) The temperature has plummeted so there's been a bit of a panic on the heating front. The wood burner, that had been temporarily taken out and stored in the back room so that Lizzie could have an open fire (more 'romantique' ) has been returned (with some difficulty, as it's extremely heavy) to the fireplace.

Later, and without a by your leave, I was suddenly picked up and unceremoniously dumped in the small garden room as Lizzie is going to Toulouse and she thinks I might get cold. There has been no discussion, just more 'it's getting cold' panic.......................

Lizzie's sister

The temperature has plummeted and it's all systems go with the fire. Lizzie says there's nothing quite like an open fire.

I'm still on the veranda, of course, and am getting somewhat chilly. My winter spot under the stairs is still being taken up with Mr Dancer's wine from his summer visit, so I will be raising it as a point of order next week. I will also be commenting upon Lizzie's poor photographic technique as this picture of her sister really does leave something to be desired. (The fire looks good, though!)

It's all in the number 8: 1

This is our new house number.

Did you know that the number 8 is a Fibonacci number: 3+5?

The composer, Iannis Xenakis, wrote Metastasis for orchestra using the fibonacci series.

This piece of music then became the starting point for the Philips Pavilion constructed for the World Fair of 1958 in Brussels. This collaboration, with the architect Le Corbusier, was the first electronic/spacial performance to combine music, sound, images and architecture. The music for the pavilion was by Edgard Varèse. It, and the pavilion, was called Poème électronique.

I only know this because Lizzie wrote her dissertation on the Philips Pavilion for some degree or other and she says she has lots of photos and things in England. Apparently the actual experience inside the pavilion was found to be quite shocking at the time so, after the Fair had finished, the pavilion was pulled down.

Bugatti at breakfast

Lizzie and her family were still slopping about in their night things at 11 am this morning when a very beautiful Bugatti pulled in to park opposite the house. It was two of Lizzie's friends, off on a rally for the day, who had decided to drop in for a cup of coffee on the way.

Imagine, no make up, hair all over the place, all of them looking like rejects from a gypsy encampment. The upper crust encounters the dregs! You've got to laugh............

More visitors

More visitors mean more talking practice.

More talking practice means I'm happy.

Today, Lizzie's sister and brother-in-law are on their way up to see her. Her brother-in-law will go home after a few days but her sister will stay for a couple of weeks at least, then Lizzie will take her back. The photo is of Lizzie and her sister when they were younger and Lizzie is on the right.

Ah.........bless!

Winter Quarters

I'm starting to think about moving into my winter quarters. Last year I went under the stairs in the hall so that I could keep au courant with the coming and goings of the house. However, as I write, my spot is filled up with Lizzie's wine rack and a whole pile of Mr Dancer's wine, packed ready for transportation to England for Xmas.

As the temperature is falling quite severely at night, now, I am really not sure what to do. I'm still on fig duty, but that will end soon, so leaving the veranda is something that we must discuss, sooner rather than later.

Drowning by numbers

It has been decided that every house in the commune shall have a number and all the roads will have new names or, will have a name, if they didn't have one before. Now for you in the UK, this will not seem a strange thing to be happening, nor anything that would deserve a mention in my blog. However, in this area, houses in villages have tended not to have numbers. It all works out very well, though, because once the post person knows you, and where you live, they will bring your post to you; not to the house, to you.

Anyway, there have been rumblings about new street names and numbers for some time. This weekend, the numbers have started arriving, being delivered in person, by the mayor's assistant. Again, unlike England, you don't go out and buy your own number. Everyone in the commune is given an enameled numberplate, with two screws and plastic bits to go into the stone. The chosen colour for this commune is deep maroon (to match the shutters on the Mairie), with the number and a border in white. Lizzie's number is 8 and the road will be Rue des Artisanes.

So we're OK so far. However, they have opted to designate individual houses to whichever road their main front door opens on to. What's the problem there? Well, according to the post person, this morning, it has suddenly got more complicated. Take Lizzie's road: Route de Montmorillon. This is the main road that runs through the village and before the number thingy, all the houses along the roadside were on the Route de Montmorillon. Now, the same houses are spread over four roads, even though they are all in a line next to each other. Also, in the hamlet of Villesallem (still part of this commune), where there are just ten houses, there are now four different road names.

It is the talk of the village. Lots are moaning about it and many are refusing to use the new numbers and addresses. People keep saying "C'est ridicule".

Wood for the winter

Today I've been supervising the arrival of the winter wood, or at least some of it. Lizzie will need about three times as much if she is going to be here for most of the winter. You buy it in metre cubes and this is part of it. Space has been cleared on the veranda for quite a lot of it so that Lizzie doesn't have to go out in the rain to bring it in. There is only room for so much, though, so the rest has to be stacked outside under cover.

These logs are 50 cms in length and will just fit in the Gaudin wood burner that was left in the house.

You put the first coat on..........

You put the first coat on
The first coat off
On-Off, On-Off
Wipe it all about
You do the painty painty and you want to shout
That's what it's all about ...................................when you have painted an expensive matt colour over some French vinyl. It doesn't stick and scratches off. Therefore, you have to scrape the whole lot off. It's taken Lizzie all day. (She's covered from head to toe with white dust.) Then you have to wash the walls down with soap and water. Then you have to rinse them. Then, you have a stiff gin and tonic!

Acrylic nightmare

Water-based chalky paint doesn't go over acrylic paint. How do I know? Because Lisbeth has painted the bedroom in the flat and, on two of the walls, the paint scratches off. She hadn't realised that they were already painted with a white acrylic paint until after she had finished. It's a bit of a disaster as she doesn't know what to do. After trying to get some of it off - unsuccessfully, as it won't all come off - she has contacted Craig and Rose and asked them what to do. As I write, she is waiting for a reply. The customer services have forwarded her email to their laboratories.

The paint she is using is called Hemp Beige. It sounds pretty drab but she says it is very nice and restful. The other colours she wants to use are Mortlake Cream and Deep Sung Cream. However, she has had a good look at the other walls in other rooms and is pretty sure that all of them have had acrylic paint on them, so she won't be able to use any of the paint she's bought!

She's not a happy bunny!

Blowing in the wind

Oh dear...............Lisbeth is really down this evening. She had a good start to the day having worked really hard on stuff for the flat, clearing stuff with the builder, as well as taking a great load of horrible building rubbish to the tip in the rain.

However, late this afternoon, she went to collect her four-inch thick dossier from her avocat. (Progress on her legal battle with a neighbour is nonexistent, so she has decided to find yet another, new avocat!) She had geared herself up to protest at the bill, but found that she wasn't asked to pay any more. (This avocat knows that Lisbeth isn't happy and that nothing much has been achieved.) However, the four-inch thick pile of documents had somehow decreased to about one inch. Lisbeth was horrified. Where are the rest of the documents? What makes it worse, is that after 5 years of wrangling, Lisbeth isn't entirely sure what might be missing.

To make matters worse, her avocat told her that, after their last meeting, she had been involved in a car accident, on her way home. Lisbeth's dossier was on the front seat and, in the impact, went flying out into a field, scattering all her important legal documents in the wind! Apparently the fire brigade were dispatched to gather them up. Her avocat claims that none were, lost although some 'might be a bit muddy!'

Whatever the reason for the missing documents, Lisbeth now has the arduous job of trying to work out what might be missing and then trying to recover them. After that.................?

This whole thing is just a nightmare!

Kombucha baby

I don't know why Lisbeth has called this creature 'Mr' Kombucha. It is a living creature but, as some sort of fungusy, mushroomy thing, it is surely genderless? However, it was called Mr Kombucha back in March last year, just before Lisbeth wrote a poem about him, and the name has stuck.

Kombucha's do have babies. They are created under the parent and are usually found when the the liquid that they live in is changed for a fresh brew. I hate to say this, but Lisbeth has been somewhat remiss in changing the brew, recently. Ideally, it is done every 6-10 days. Unfortunately, while she's had visitors, she has left him for more than the 10 days. (Quite a lot more, actually!)

A couple of days ago, she finally got round to renewing the brew and was surprised to find how heavy her Kombucha had become; quite a lot heavier, in fact. On further inspection, it became evident that the increase in weight was not only due to the fact that it had produced a baby, but that the baby had grown to the same size as the parent: some 7 inches across!

Feeling bad about this, she has advertised the baby on one of the 'English in France' sites, on the web. In the meantime, this giant Kombucha baby is being kept in the fridge, where they can be kept dormant for a while. I think! I hope!

Ironing paper

I know my house-mate can be a bit strange, but today I found her ironing paper.

It seems that a friend in the next village had asked her to inquire at the mayor's office, if it would be possible to put up a small A4 poster advertising a vintage and classic car rally.

Lisbeth set off with the poster in the direction of the office, stopping off at her next door (but one) neighbour to give them some leeks. On being offered a cup of tea, she left the poster in the hall (so as not to forget it when she left) and stayed for tea and a chat.

Crossing the hall on her way out, Lisbeth found that the poster had gone. When asked about it, her neighbour said that she had thought it was rubbish left over from the post so had crumpled it up and thrown it away.

Hence, Lisbeth has been ironing it in the hope of making it presentable.

The first wind-up

I've been so busy surfing the web that I forgot to say that we have had our first wind-up of the clock. It goes for about a week, before the bottom of the weights can be felt just under the apron at the bottom. So this Tuesday was wind-up night.

The little winder works really well and it makes a nice ratchety noise as you wind. It winds anti-clockwise (much to Lisbeth's surprise) and you have to wind up two weights: one for the clock and one for the chime. It seems to have gone well: nothing fell off or broke and the clock is merrily ticking away and chiming, just slightly behind the big church clock.

The Cow that ticks and turns: en retraite

I'm afraid that I have had to make an executive decision regarding the fate of the cow that ticks and turns. The poll that I mentioned, on Saturday, can't take place because Blogger is still having some technical difficulties in the poll department.

As time is passing, Lisbeth has had to buy a new timer, so the fate of TCTTAT has been down to me. The question in the poll was: Should the cow that ticks and turns be: (a) thrown away, (b) squashed up and thrown away, (c) kept in the cupboard in the kitchen or (c) moved to the 'Friends' shelf?

As you can see from the replacement - merely a 'thing' that ticks and turns - I have taken the decision to award TCTTAT a place on my 'Friends' shelf. Here he can have a happy retirement and is out of reach of Lisbeth. Needless to say, he is very happy with my decision, so all's well that ends well for my, not ticking nor turning, friend (although he does still ring).

The Cow that ticks and turns: Poll

The Cow that ticks and turns (and rings) isn't ticking or turning. His ring is working but when you turn him for 10, 20, 40, or any time-period, he just sits. There is no hint of a tick nor any discernment of a turn. He is very unhappy as he had just been timing a Clafouti which, apparently, he did very well. Then, without warning, he lost his tick and turn.

Now I happen to know that he did get worried about the 'Green Baby Chutney' and he was afraid that Lisbeth wouldn't need him now the grandfather clock has arrived. I told him not to worry about the former (not real babies) nor the latter (the big clock can't time things). However, I suspect he is suffering from stress and I'm still hopeful that his tick and turn might come back.

As I write, Lisbeth doesn't know what to do with him. He has given good service but without his tick and turn, he has outlived his usefulness. As I am very concerned about him, I am going to put a poll in the sidebar (as soon as Blogger technicals allow), so please cast your vote with compassion. His fate is in your hands................................