Today seems to have been a day of keeping my mouth shut - never an easy task!
We have decided not to 'do' Christmas this year because we have demolished the living room and are making the best of the new barn space/utility room to live in. All very sensible and logical.
Last week our nephew decided to join us for the holidays. Still all fine. He was warned that we are not 'doing' Christmas. But we decided that we would have to move back in to the living room while he was here.
This morning we have had the plumber come to fix the shower and the window man come to finally fix the windows and to collect his cheque before the end of the year. So while they were here and needing various decisions we continued cleaning the living room space and started bringing down some furniture to make it habitable.
Since when did Him Outdoors have an opinion on where furniture should go!
Then I had a crisis of maternalness (if there is such a word) and lack of Christmas. Nephew has trained/flown/trained/stayed overnight/more train to get here and I need it to be more welcoming than a couple of chairs and a table. Lets have a tree. (Only need to go and chop one down and clean the attic in order to get to the box of decorations.) Or at least be prepared for him to be able to go and chop a tree down tomorrow.
Him outdoors: Nope, he knows we're not doing Christmas. And we're not. Only concession is out to Christmas lunch at a local restaurant which we are only doing because Nephew is here.
Aaagh.
Nope, sorry, going to insist on this one. Have cleaned the way to the decorations and cleared a space to put up a tree tomorrow. Nephew will be chosing/cutting/decorating.
Have now put up the Christmas cards on the windowsills and put out some bowls of oranges and some chocolates and found a few lamps and lit the fire and it looks very jolly if you ignore the hanging pipes and bare render! Also found enough ingredients to make a gooey pudding and put the casserole on the woodburner so it will all smell lovely and foody when we get back from the station.
Where is the cd of carols?????
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Friday, 18 December 2009
Hooray it's not a red day
We have, by some wondrous sleight of hand that I am not even aware of, managed to retain the tarif with EDF that was already in the house when we bought it. An electrician told us that this was very unusual - what he actually said was bof and a lot of silent whistling! This tarif loses EDF a lot of money because the canny french immediately turn everything off on a red day so they don't let you continue it when you buy a house.
What it means is that for 22 days picked by EDF between November and March the electricity is very expensive and for the other 340 odd days it is very cheap. Well, they are not stupid, the weather has been very very cold this week, - 10C yesterday and we have had 4 red days in a row.
Apparently, according to totalfrance.com, the fount of all knowledge french, they can only do 5 in a row and they don't do it at weekends and fete days. (Well if you don't do weekends, you can only do 5 days in a row..........duh.)
To show which is a red day, we have a red light in the kitchen that lights up. Except it doesn't. A kind electrician managed to open it and change the bulb and I think he checked that there was power to the bulb but I'm not sure now. So we assume it is on a cold day, and don't plan washing, bathing and electric radiators until Him Outdoors has been down to check the meters.
Last night it snowed - which actually makes it warmer today - but we still assumed it must be the fifth red day, but IT'S NOT. So I have been round switching on the radiators and put a load of washing in. A more normal day.
Because of the snow, the window man that was coming, finally, to replace a door that doesn't shut properly, is not coming. And the plumber that needs to replace something in the shower because they forgot to put the sealant in when they did it, hasn't rung to say if he's coming or not.......
What it means is that for 22 days picked by EDF between November and March the electricity is very expensive and for the other 340 odd days it is very cheap. Well, they are not stupid, the weather has been very very cold this week, - 10C yesterday and we have had 4 red days in a row.
Apparently, according to totalfrance.com, the fount of all knowledge french, they can only do 5 in a row and they don't do it at weekends and fete days. (Well if you don't do weekends, you can only do 5 days in a row..........duh.)
To show which is a red day, we have a red light in the kitchen that lights up. Except it doesn't. A kind electrician managed to open it and change the bulb and I think he checked that there was power to the bulb but I'm not sure now. So we assume it is on a cold day, and don't plan washing, bathing and electric radiators until Him Outdoors has been down to check the meters.
Last night it snowed - which actually makes it warmer today - but we still assumed it must be the fifth red day, but IT'S NOT. So I have been round switching on the radiators and put a load of washing in. A more normal day.
Because of the snow, the window man that was coming, finally, to replace a door that doesn't shut properly, is not coming. And the plumber that needs to replace something in the shower because they forgot to put the sealant in when they did it, hasn't rung to say if he's coming or not.......
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Blogging
I have just rediscovered why I love reading blogs. I follow several people who write about different parts of the world and I love their insights into life in their country. Some quite staggering stories about life that is perfectly normal to their neighbours.
I have also just spent half an hour immersed in some really wonderful writing. I love the way that you can really wander through stories and the people that they follow and stumble across such thought provoking items.
We live in rural France and have settled into quite a solitary existance - or whatever the word for two people together is. We started in a way that I remember from having to move to Singapore with Him Outdoors' job. Trying very hard to discover the local culture, see things, attempt the language (although not so much of that in Mandarin, I certainly tried Cantonese when we moved to Hong Kong). After 3 years of the Far East, although still fascinated and loving the experience we had settled into the expat community and were much more 'us' in a foreign place. This had a lot to do with having kids and, certainly at the beginning, finding that they were happier with as much familiarity as possible. There was so much 'foreign' that a familiar homebase was a huge comfort.
We have now settled into a more English based frenchness. My french is adequate and due to my french teacher giving up due to a new job at the tourist office that seems to consume her, not improving much. Him Outdoors uses mine as much as he can and has little of his own. He has the confidence to try and explain but really only needs the DIY sheds and is slowly increasing his number of english speaking assistants. I seem to chat only to workmen and shop assistants and have no french friends that don't speak quite a lot of english. We don't have any neighbours. The nearest one died as we arrive the next nearest is a very rarely occupied holiday home, then we have a family that I have only set eyes on once that have a huge barking dog that doesn't encourage visiting. There are local people that smile and say a few words at every occasion that we go to but we have never set foot in their homes nor they in ours.
On the other hand we have not immersed ourself in Englishness. We don't have english television although we have now discovered how to get iPlayer which enables us to pick and choses programs from all the english channels. We don't buy english newspapers but we do read The Times online. The noticeable difference between this and immersing ourselves in English media is that we are managing to ignore Christmas completely. We have no advertising, no Christmas programs.
So, back to blogging. It is a way of reading in the same way as I would read magazines but also on occasion in much more depth, seeing the world, exposing myself to other lives. It gives me things to ponder. It amazes me, fascinates me, absorbs me. It also gives me women's company which I sometimes crave. And today it has introduced me to several more quite wonderful writers.
I have also just spent half an hour immersed in some really wonderful writing. I love the way that you can really wander through stories and the people that they follow and stumble across such thought provoking items.
We live in rural France and have settled into quite a solitary existance - or whatever the word for two people together is. We started in a way that I remember from having to move to Singapore with Him Outdoors' job. Trying very hard to discover the local culture, see things, attempt the language (although not so much of that in Mandarin, I certainly tried Cantonese when we moved to Hong Kong). After 3 years of the Far East, although still fascinated and loving the experience we had settled into the expat community and were much more 'us' in a foreign place. This had a lot to do with having kids and, certainly at the beginning, finding that they were happier with as much familiarity as possible. There was so much 'foreign' that a familiar homebase was a huge comfort.
We have now settled into a more English based frenchness. My french is adequate and due to my french teacher giving up due to a new job at the tourist office that seems to consume her, not improving much. Him Outdoors uses mine as much as he can and has little of his own. He has the confidence to try and explain but really only needs the DIY sheds and is slowly increasing his number of english speaking assistants. I seem to chat only to workmen and shop assistants and have no french friends that don't speak quite a lot of english. We don't have any neighbours. The nearest one died as we arrive the next nearest is a very rarely occupied holiday home, then we have a family that I have only set eyes on once that have a huge barking dog that doesn't encourage visiting. There are local people that smile and say a few words at every occasion that we go to but we have never set foot in their homes nor they in ours.
On the other hand we have not immersed ourself in Englishness. We don't have english television although we have now discovered how to get iPlayer which enables us to pick and choses programs from all the english channels. We don't buy english newspapers but we do read The Times online. The noticeable difference between this and immersing ourselves in English media is that we are managing to ignore Christmas completely. We have no advertising, no Christmas programs.
So, back to blogging. It is a way of reading in the same way as I would read magazines but also on occasion in much more depth, seeing the world, exposing myself to other lives. It gives me things to ponder. It amazes me, fascinates me, absorbs me. It also gives me women's company which I sometimes crave. And today it has introduced me to several more quite wonderful writers.
Friday, 27 November 2009
The stair saga.............. again
The stair saga still continues. At the beginning of November we got a letter left in our letter box which seemed to be from the bailiffs. It seems that we have been summoned to appear before a tribunal on 3rd December. After a series of letters/telephone calls/faxes between us the Axa man and the stair man and his solicitors and les Huissiers de Justice Associes in which we have paid his bill in full (and he has cashed the cheque) , asked for him to repair his mistakes and received a letter saying that he awaits a rendezvous so that he can repair the stairs but he cannot guarantee that in so doing he will not make a worse mess!! the tribunal is still on.
Today we have been told that there is a document awaiting us in Sarlat that we must both go and fetch - because he is summoning both of us - before the tribunal. So off to Sarlat.
I realise that we made a basic mistake against 'the french way' by sending him a letter originally saying your work is crap here's half the money - on the basis that this would make him come and talk to us when he didn't turn up to our arranged meeting with the builder - but I don't understand why we still have to go to the tribunal when we have paid in full and have no case to answer. What a waste of court time. The Axa man says that he is going to try and claim his costs.
Oh thank the Lord that we ticked a box that said we would like free insurance while we had the building work done so that we have the Axa man on our side. They are also sending a solicitor to the tribunal and the Axa man is coming.
Today it has all got to me again and I am finding it hard to get back to the happy corner.
++++++++
Went and collected what turned out to be a full copy of the original summons with detail of what we are being summonsed for. Lots of quick direct translation seemed to include lots of 'condemned' and 'abuse' and 'insincerity'. After sitting over a very good lunch with a bottle of wine and a dictionary (and feeling much better for it) we have decided that he is accusing us of not paying the bill in spite of agreeing that there is nothing wrong with his work and then while we're there we should pay 1,000 euros damages and 800 euros for something else that we don't understand at all. Since we have copies of letters with proof of delivery that both he and we sent saying that he accepts the errors, and all that was sorted before we got the original summons, we hope all is ok. But then this is France so who knows. We shall see on the 3rd. Meanwhile a good lunch and a peaceful afternoon with a book dozing in front of the fire have brought me back to the happy corner :-)
Today we have been told that there is a document awaiting us in Sarlat that we must both go and fetch - because he is summoning both of us - before the tribunal. So off to Sarlat.
I realise that we made a basic mistake against 'the french way' by sending him a letter originally saying your work is crap here's half the money - on the basis that this would make him come and talk to us when he didn't turn up to our arranged meeting with the builder - but I don't understand why we still have to go to the tribunal when we have paid in full and have no case to answer. What a waste of court time. The Axa man says that he is going to try and claim his costs.
Oh thank the Lord that we ticked a box that said we would like free insurance while we had the building work done so that we have the Axa man on our side. They are also sending a solicitor to the tribunal and the Axa man is coming.
Today it has all got to me again and I am finding it hard to get back to the happy corner.
++++++++
Went and collected what turned out to be a full copy of the original summons with detail of what we are being summonsed for. Lots of quick direct translation seemed to include lots of 'condemned' and 'abuse' and 'insincerity'. After sitting over a very good lunch with a bottle of wine and a dictionary (and feeling much better for it) we have decided that he is accusing us of not paying the bill in spite of agreeing that there is nothing wrong with his work and then while we're there we should pay 1,000 euros damages and 800 euros for something else that we don't understand at all. Since we have copies of letters with proof of delivery that both he and we sent saying that he accepts the errors, and all that was sorted before we got the original summons, we hope all is ok. But then this is France so who knows. We shall see on the 3rd. Meanwhile a good lunch and a peaceful afternoon with a book dozing in front of the fire have brought me back to the happy corner :-)
Saturday, 21 November 2009
How to meet the neighbours
We've had two events recently where we have been meeting neighbours.
November 11th is Armistice Day and a public holiday here. We had been invited by special posted invitation to attend a ceremony at the war memorial in the village and then for a drink in the village hall afterwards. (Always and drink/meal afterwards.)
We duly turned up at the stated time to find a few people hovering around. Much nodding but we hadn't set eyes on any of them before and we were obviously foreign so that was it. Then a little procession arrived from the Mairie headed by the mayor in his sash and including some school children. We knew half a dozen people, but far from most of them.
The mayor read out a little piece about how he had had the memorial restored and then each child read out the name of one of the deceased and how they had died. All this was interrupted by cars passing through the crowd as we were gathered in the road. Everyone spoke into their papers so I expect it was the same as you would expect but I didn't hear well enough to be sure.
When all was done we progressed to the mairie for kir and nibbles. On the wall was a display of the death certificates of the people on the war memorial, most very very young and died on the field of battle. I asked if there were any second world war deaths and was told that no one from the commune had died in the second world war.
We had a little chat to the deputy mayor and her husband who we have met at every occasion and exchanged a word with another man and that looked like it was going to be it. I constructed my sentence to another lady about had she got any of her family killed in the war and she said no and turned away. As did the next person - is my french that bad?? Then I decided that I wanted to meet the old man who has a garden up the road and went over to the deputy mayor and asked to be introduced. Another drink all round and we ended up actually communicating with someone! Not that I could understand a lot of it, but we did at least get to socialise with 4 more of the locals. As is always the way, some of them are delightful twinkly people, happy to talk once you get them started but it is sooooooo hard to get them started.
++
We had another occasion to meet the locals this week. We had decided to pollard the lime tree that was starting to get in the electricity wires. Don't like the french way of cutting all the trees to death but it would let more light in, had obviously been done before and it was getting muddled up with the wires.
Started wonderfully. Him Outdoors cutting carefully by hand to avoid the dangers of chainsaws and ladders. About half way through amazing crackles and flashes. Oh ... my ... God. It was the tree that was holding the wires apart. Fortunately at that moment lovely local man passes and I explain. He says that we should stop (good idea) and he would see the mayor because if the electricity board was called it would be expensive. So all stopped for the day and await the mayor.
Eleven thirty the next morning and there was the most almighty sizzling and banging, rushed outside to see huge flashes and the wires split and the electricity went off. Oh b+++er.
Went to see nice man - a little later because it was lunch time. He rushed off to get the maire who appeared with mobile phone and rang the electricity board in his official capacity explaining it as if he had just found the wires in the road (still not sure if these are live wires or not but wasn't going to risk it). Lovely people, much humour and goodwill.
We decided to run away for the afternoon rather than explain the situation to the EDF and reappeared at dusk to find that we only had one wire instead of four but we had power and all is well. Finished the pruning next day and all seems fine. (And the computer didn't get blown up by all the surges and cuts.)
November 11th is Armistice Day and a public holiday here. We had been invited by special posted invitation to attend a ceremony at the war memorial in the village and then for a drink in the village hall afterwards. (Always and drink/meal afterwards.)
We duly turned up at the stated time to find a few people hovering around. Much nodding but we hadn't set eyes on any of them before and we were obviously foreign so that was it. Then a little procession arrived from the Mairie headed by the mayor in his sash and including some school children. We knew half a dozen people, but far from most of them.
The mayor read out a little piece about how he had had the memorial restored and then each child read out the name of one of the deceased and how they had died. All this was interrupted by cars passing through the crowd as we were gathered in the road. Everyone spoke into their papers so I expect it was the same as you would expect but I didn't hear well enough to be sure.
When all was done we progressed to the mairie for kir and nibbles. On the wall was a display of the death certificates of the people on the war memorial, most very very young and died on the field of battle. I asked if there were any second world war deaths and was told that no one from the commune had died in the second world war.
We had a little chat to the deputy mayor and her husband who we have met at every occasion and exchanged a word with another man and that looked like it was going to be it. I constructed my sentence to another lady about had she got any of her family killed in the war and she said no and turned away. As did the next person - is my french that bad?? Then I decided that I wanted to meet the old man who has a garden up the road and went over to the deputy mayor and asked to be introduced. Another drink all round and we ended up actually communicating with someone! Not that I could understand a lot of it, but we did at least get to socialise with 4 more of the locals. As is always the way, some of them are delightful twinkly people, happy to talk once you get them started but it is sooooooo hard to get them started.
++
We had another occasion to meet the locals this week. We had decided to pollard the lime tree that was starting to get in the electricity wires. Don't like the french way of cutting all the trees to death but it would let more light in, had obviously been done before and it was getting muddled up with the wires.
Started wonderfully. Him Outdoors cutting carefully by hand to avoid the dangers of chainsaws and ladders. About half way through amazing crackles and flashes. Oh ... my ... God. It was the tree that was holding the wires apart. Fortunately at that moment lovely local man passes and I explain. He says that we should stop (good idea) and he would see the mayor because if the electricity board was called it would be expensive. So all stopped for the day and await the mayor.
Eleven thirty the next morning and there was the most almighty sizzling and banging, rushed outside to see huge flashes and the wires split and the electricity went off. Oh b+++er.
Went to see nice man - a little later because it was lunch time. He rushed off to get the maire who appeared with mobile phone and rang the electricity board in his official capacity explaining it as if he had just found the wires in the road (still not sure if these are live wires or not but wasn't going to risk it). Lovely people, much humour and goodwill.
We decided to run away for the afternoon rather than explain the situation to the EDF and reappeared at dusk to find that we only had one wire instead of four but we had power and all is well. Finished the pruning next day and all seems fine. (And the computer didn't get blown up by all the surges and cuts.)
Friday, 23 October 2009
Groupe Electrogene
Not, as you might think, the electricity board but french for generator.
Back in May we saw a one day offer in the publicity that arrives every week for a generator that was very good value at the local diy shed. We arrived for opening time and joined a huddle outside the door all watching the uniformed staff that were smoking at another door. Not a queue - this is france after all - but we all knew who was first. A young, smartly dressed man in a smart car arrived just before opening and somehow managed to be first in the queue and into the store first.
We all walk very quickly across the store to where generators would be to find an elderly lady already leaving with one of the staff and the last one and a man with a scrappy pad. Give me your name, address and telephone number, take this copy to the till, pay your money and wait. So, feeling decidedly naive, we pay our money for a generator we haven't seen, they haven't got and don't know when it will arrive. But it's May, how long can it take to get one and we won't need it til the winter when all the storms and power cuts come.
After a couple of months I ring to ask if there is any news of the generators. Coming from China in a container. Probably at end of October. Probably.
Ok
Well now it is the end of October and we were in the store (buying some grape vines to go up the new arbour which were, for once, quite reasonably priced). I asked for Frederique who is the man who knows about the generators and the man I asked smirked a bit but found me Fred. I say my piece again and he asks me if I have my receipt. No I say, I just wondered if there was any news. OK he says, I have 4, you can have one but it is a big secret and don't tell anyone!
So we walk out with one of the precious generators. And the ridiculous thing is that I feel honoured that I was one of the chosen ones! I love it. The french have paperwork coming out of their ears on every occasion but just sometimes it's all ok without any of it, just being in the right place at the right time. Sooooo glad we aren't one of the other 10 or so people who aren't going to get one.
AND IT WORKS :-)
Back in May we saw a one day offer in the publicity that arrives every week for a generator that was very good value at the local diy shed. We arrived for opening time and joined a huddle outside the door all watching the uniformed staff that were smoking at another door. Not a queue - this is france after all - but we all knew who was first. A young, smartly dressed man in a smart car arrived just before opening and somehow managed to be first in the queue and into the store first.
We all walk very quickly across the store to where generators would be to find an elderly lady already leaving with one of the staff and the last one and a man with a scrappy pad. Give me your name, address and telephone number, take this copy to the till, pay your money and wait. So, feeling decidedly naive, we pay our money for a generator we haven't seen, they haven't got and don't know when it will arrive. But it's May, how long can it take to get one and we won't need it til the winter when all the storms and power cuts come.
After a couple of months I ring to ask if there is any news of the generators. Coming from China in a container. Probably at end of October. Probably.
Ok
Well now it is the end of October and we were in the store (buying some grape vines to go up the new arbour which were, for once, quite reasonably priced). I asked for Frederique who is the man who knows about the generators and the man I asked smirked a bit but found me Fred. I say my piece again and he asks me if I have my receipt. No I say, I just wondered if there was any news. OK he says, I have 4, you can have one but it is a big secret and don't tell anyone!
So we walk out with one of the precious generators. And the ridiculous thing is that I feel honoured that I was one of the chosen ones! I love it. The french have paperwork coming out of their ears on every occasion but just sometimes it's all ok without any of it, just being in the right place at the right time. Sooooo glad we aren't one of the other 10 or so people who aren't going to get one.
AND IT WORKS :-)
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
French Children
Someone that we met the other day had lived in France for 40 years and had a french wife and french children. Set me thinking, would I want french children. I have always thought that it is wonderful for kids to have two languages but maybe I haven't thought this through.
I was thinking that I wanted children that I understood their cultural background and that I wasn't sure if I wanted them to have something totally foreign to me where, although I speak some French, I would not be up to speed on their school life.
Then Him Outdoors said well what makes you think you know what went on in our childrens' lives at school. True enough. Taking to extremes that they have one language for the playground and one for home (and another one for grandparents) who knows what they keep to themselves.
I do think that having a second language is wonderful but the guy we met said that although his children could speak english, it wasn't brilliant because they all spoke french at home. The guy also said that speaking two languages fluently and switching between them had been known to cause quite serious psychological difficulties with knowing who you were. (Wished we could have continued that conversation but the flow of the party intervened.)
Not sure I'm coming to any conclusion here, maybe this is a work in progress...............
I was thinking that I wanted children that I understood their cultural background and that I wasn't sure if I wanted them to have something totally foreign to me where, although I speak some French, I would not be up to speed on their school life.
Then Him Outdoors said well what makes you think you know what went on in our childrens' lives at school. True enough. Taking to extremes that they have one language for the playground and one for home (and another one for grandparents) who knows what they keep to themselves.
I do think that having a second language is wonderful but the guy we met said that although his children could speak english, it wasn't brilliant because they all spoke french at home. The guy also said that speaking two languages fluently and switching between them had been known to cause quite serious psychological difficulties with knowing who you were. (Wished we could have continued that conversation but the flow of the party intervened.)
Not sure I'm coming to any conclusion here, maybe this is a work in progress...............
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