A Momentous Day

It's not over yet, but a watershed point was reached today on the renovation of my three apartments. As Chris and I manouevred the toilet into place in our main apartment bathroom, he turned to me and said "You know that this is the last thing to be fitted".

We had been working so intensively over the last eight days that I hadn't realised the enormity of what was happening there and then, but he was right. Five bathrooms, three kitchens, one ceiling raised, several walls knocked down and rebuilt - no more tiling to do, no more plumbing to do, no more cabling to put in, no more plastering or sanding, no more toilets, showers, baths, sinks, kitchen cabinets or hobs to install, no more vanity units to build. The whole thing took me so much by surprise that I had a lump in my throat thinking about all that had been achieved - the seemingly un-ending hard slog over the last couple of years - the bone jarring and muscle aching labour - the joyous moments of achievement and the frustrated cursing about bad builders and French DIY shops and falling off ladders and being apart from Debrah for weeks on end and the sheer cost of it all. It still hasn't fully sunk in.

Naturally, there had to be a final trip to Tridome for the correct size valve to connect the water to the toilet, which delayed the moment by half an hour. I have a box full of plumbing parts that I will probably never use again but not the right size valve needed for today's final connection.

It's not ALL over yet though - there is still a large acreage of wall space to be painted, a new carpet to be laid, a wooden floor to be sanded and stained and varnished, some plug points and light fittings to tidy up and some shelves to put up here and there - but that's all cosmetic really compared to what has already been done.

Chris and I had planned, quite rightly, to go out and toast this moment with several bottles of the very drinkable local red wine, but this being France, the French had very different ideas about that. They wouldn't stop us drinking red wine, of course, but they have stopped anyone moving around the country very easily for the last week.

Chris is booked on a plane from Paris to New York in the morning and had booked an overnight train to get him there from here. Well, as the French rail drivers strike entered it's sixth day and they were joined by the civil servants and the air traffic controllers and anyone else who didn't fancy getting up this morning, Chris had no option but to hire a car and cancel his train ticket - which meant that instead of getting slightly happy and sleeping all the way to Paris, he had to put his tired and aching and very sober body into the hire car and drive through the night. I don't envy him that.

So suddenly, I am here on my own again. I have already planned my jobs for tomorrow - no point letting up as it all needs to be completed asap. We are now listed on two travel websites and there is press interest apparently. It looks like a new phase in the life of 42 rue victor hugo is about to begin and with it a new phase in my life. Bring it on.