Us Time

After the mad rush to complete the appartment and then looking after five guests for a few days, it was really very good to just spend some time with Debrah here in France, something we haven't had much opportunity to do since we bought the place over two and a half years ago. It was a bit odd not to be cooking another meal for someone or jollying everyone along or sanding and painting walls - it was so odd that it took us a little while to relax and enjoy it.

Not that we have in fact been left on our own entirely. Our lovely Irish neighbour and his new lady friend took us out for dinner last Thursday evening. He has bought himself a car to leave down here and I helped him out by talking to Christine, the lady that runs the beauty salon on the ground floor and who owns the other parking spot in the courtyard, about him being able to rent her parking spot as she is currently not using it on account of having a small child and needing a very large 4x4 to drive her around in which, if you ask me, is a bit London rather than the usual French way - but what the hell do I know - just when I think I am beginning to get a grasp on stuff the exception to the rule comes along - much like 'O' level French language classes. Anyway, I facilitated an agreement between them and cash changed hands (not with me) and we got a very nice dinner - he has even left me the spare key for his car in case I need to move it, which is either very trustworthy or very foolish!

On Friday I bumped into Patrick, whose terrace we had visited to watch the fireworks on Bastille Day, which gave me a chance to invite him back and thank him properly for his hospitality over a few glasses of red wine - in fact he came back on Saturday to exchange phone numbers and write down the details of the wine we had drunk so that he could get some for himself. Between picking Debrah's brains about interior design and mine about wine I feel that we have more than repaid him and made a new friend in the process.

On Sunday, the greatest cycle race in the world came through Carcassonne for the second year running, or should that be cycling, and I thought I might wander up the road, literally it was two minutes walk away, and watch it swoop past. However, Debrah felt that, to give it it's full title, 'The f****** Tour de France, is that still going on?' might not actually be all that I was making it out to be and decided that we would have lunch with our lovely friends Nick and Chris at a location about an hour and a half away at the precise time that 'Le Tour' passed through town. Actually, to be fair to Debrah it was the right decision. Straining your neck to watch 170 skinny drugged up men clad in dayglo lycra for precisely 30 seconds as they flash past your vantage point or sitting in the sunshine for a couple of hours over a leisurely lunch with excellent company and a pleasant drive through the beautiful Minervois with the roof down on the Audi - no competition really - but still!

And today we met a very nice American guy called Ken, who used to be a policeman in California but now lives with his French wife over here and works as a handyman. We asked him round to have a chat about the work that still needs doing and whether he thought he could help and to see if we thought he'd be suitable - and we think he'll do very well and that he was an interesting and good bloke - so he's coming back in a couple of weeks time to discuss things further.

On Saturday evening we had one of those lovely impromptu evenings together involving good food and much laughing and lots to drink and dancing and just the two of us. As ever with these things it had started out quite innoccuously but then Debrah selected an excellent bottle of wine to go with our 'confit de canard' supper, which in itself was not an issue, but after a couple of glasses of wine there are only two ways for Debrah to go - it's either pyjamas at 9.30pm and an early night or hard spirits and dancing - I call it the 'stick or twist' moment. When Debrah got up from the dining table and reached for the bottle of Tequila in the drinks cupboard behind her I knew that we were twisting. Sadly, the spirit cupboard is not that well endowed, so it was a good job that I know where to go to get hold of fags and booze late on a Saturday night - strangely it's not that different from the UK - there is a shop run by an Asian couple from somewhere in France's colonial past, that is open on Sundays and late nights (when the rest of France is closed) and sells the bits and pieces that you didn't think about when you were doing your sensible shopping at the market earlier in the day. It's not perfect of course, and they didn't have any tequila but they did have vodka alcopops and fancy french lady cigarettes and as we were out we dropped into the Makhila bar for a couple of drinks before heading home for more husband and wife jollity and lots of singalong music and dancing.

I wouldn't want you to get the idea that it's all frivolity and 'laissez-faire' though. Oh no. In-between all the aforementioned the reality of the work still to do in France and the work still not done for London has been very front of mind. So Friday included a trip to Ikea in Toulouse for furniture and lights and general stuff and every day since the last of our visitors went home has included much staring at computer screens as we both catch up with work and address deadlines that have either been brought forward or are just looming. After all, doing the London stuff to the best of our ability allows us to do the Carcassonne life - it's that simple.