Tile ordering

I went out early up to Tridome with my fingers firmly crossed that they would still have some of our tiles in stock. The fact that we bought them six months ago and they were a special offer at the time did not fill me with confidence. On arrival I quickly scanned the displays of tiles - nothing - my heart sank. I plumped up courage and cornered the tilemeister (or whatever they are called in France - le maestro de carrelage?) and showed him the torn off ends of a box that I had brought with me showing the name and code numbers of what I needed.

Actually, he was no maestro because he couldn't work the computer system and had to constantly either phone a colleague or get up and find someone to help him, all the time mumbling incoherent French at me - 'if you want me to at least have a stab at understanding you, please talk clearly', I thought to myself, and even then it will only be a 50/50 chance of success. The computer system was so obvious, even in French, that I was dying to grab the mouse off him and find the stock item myself, but given that Air France cabin crew have been on strike for five days because somebody sneezed on a plane or something, I thought better of it as the last thing I need at this critical point of the renovation is a nationwide walkout of staff from the DIY stores because an impatient Englishman grabbed a man's mouse!

My heart leapt when he eventually decided they had three boxes left in stock. I needed four to be on the safe side but three would have to do - I went off to get a trolley while he went to look in the storeroom. My heart sank again as he emerged holding a tile that was clearly the wrong colour. I think he said to me that the code numbers didn't match - which is why, you durr, the colour wasn't right. So it was back to the computer.

Whilst he continued his struggle with technology, I grabbed the Cooperativo Ceramico Imola catalogue from the shelf behind him and found the tiles I needed straight away with matching code number and a pretty picture and everything. His eyes lit up and he punched the code into a new screen he had found listing all current stock items. Hurrah. Sadly not. Computer said No.

His smarter, more tech savvy mate, popped his head round the corner, clicked the mouse a couple of times, pulled up the manufacturer details and stock list and a price for the item and in clearly understandable French said we could order them no problem if I wanted. Hallelujah - isn't life so much easier when you find the person who knows what's going on? Sadly, he then ran off again leaving Einstein to fill out the order, which took another twenty minutes with me helpfully pointing to the bits he had missed or got wrong. The upshot of it all is that I have to pay double the original price because they are no longer on special offer and we might have to wait six weeks for them to arrive, by which time Chris may well have left and I will be laying them myself. All of which left me feeling quite depressed this morning.

I returned to the apartment for the final afternoon of the Polish plasterers work for me, which involved more plastering, more sanding, more cleaning, a lot more dust and the handing over of a large wad of notes. Still, it took them seven days to do what would have taken me four weeks to not do as well as they have, so it is undoubtedly money well spent.

I thought my sore throat was due to the dust or the paint fumes, but this evening it has given way to sneezing and snot and I know I have a cold coming on - just what I don't need. Oh well - better get off to bed with a hot drink and get it sorted.