I have tried so hard to fit in with everyone here and not to cause any friction and not to put anyone's nose out of joint. I guess that inevitably I was going to put a foot wrong somewhere along the line and today something that had been worrying me came back to haunt me.
During the initial renovation we struggled to know what to do with all the debris and rubbish. Operation Barney accounted for quite a lot but, frankly, we were a bit embarrassed to put it all by the bins and expect the dustmen to take it all away. So we utilised an empty room on the ground floor that appeared to be totally unused.
My plan was to get the debris and rubbish out of the areas that we were renovating and into this unused space - and then when we had finished everything, I would hire a van and we would take it all to the local waste disposal.
There appeared to be no harm done - the door to this room was open, the room had obviously not been used or cleaned for years and no-one had ever been seen entering or leaving it.
For a while, after moving our rubbish down there, I would, bit by bit, take it out to the bins for disposal - but then suddenly there was a lock on the door and I couldn't get access. I assumed that the managing agents had fitted the lock but it appears that there is an owner of that space and, suddenly, he wants to do something with it and is mightily pissed off that I have dumped a load of rubbish in it in the meantime. It is he who put the padlock on it and it is he and his mother that I met today.
I was on my way down to the courtyard with a bucket of water to wash the car - it being a bit dirty from the sand in the recent rain - when I was confronted by a boggle eyed French matriarch and, what I presume to be, her son. I didn't want to argue with them and actually was in no position to do so because I was indeed guilty of dumping rubbish in their apartment and also because I couldn't understand most of what they were barking at me - so much for my French lessons!
I told them that I would organise the removal of the debris and went to speak to the managing agents to see if they knew someone who would take it all away and because they need to co-ordinate it with the owner, who has the key to the space. I am waiting to hear back from them. At least when it is all gone I can stop worrying about it.
Thursday, 29 May 2008
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Return to Gardening
Chris has been getting along very well with the renovation of Denis' apartment upstairs, so this morning it was time to collect the tiles for the bathroom and shower which had been sitting at Caro Price since Debrah found them and bought them a few weeks ago.
Fortunately, the sun shone, in complete contrast to yesterday's wierdness, and so I was able to put the roof down with a view to spreading the weight around - it was only 16sqm but that is still a lot of weight for my car. The man at Caro Price looked at me as if I was mad (something I have got used to over the past year or so) but I insisted it would be OK and so we loaded half in the boot and half on the back seat.
When Chris got to work he was amazed to find that I had already been to the tile shop and back again - and that his (and my) first job was to carry the tiles up two flights of stairs - what a way to start the day. It being far too early in the morning for Christian to be surfaced, we had to do without the extra welcome pair of hands. Sixteen boxes equals eight times each up and down the stairs and we were both covered in sweat and struggling for breath when we had finished - as good as any gym workout in my view and no doubt I will feel it in my calves and my back tomorrow.
Alas the Audi did not come out of the ordeal undamaged either - the newly fitted exhaust brackets had sheared and the rear of the exhaust pipe was once more hanging free - not sure if the tile trip had caused that or if they were just defective anyway, but it meant another temporary repair using wire until I can get back to the garage and complain.
I couldn't get there today because I needed the car to drop Christian at the airport and then to go to the supermarket to stock up on drinks and tinned goods and then to Tridome for some more bits for Chris and finally back again to Tridome to collect Debrah and all the required stuff for window boxes.
Yes. We have put window boxes (my new children, Chris called them) along the front of the apartments. This evening Debrah and I potted up the geraniums and the like and hung each one from the metal balustrade at each window along the street-facing side of the building - and very lovely they look too.
Next stop - tubs and pots in the courtyard - it's only a matter of time.
Fortunately, the sun shone, in complete contrast to yesterday's wierdness, and so I was able to put the roof down with a view to spreading the weight around - it was only 16sqm but that is still a lot of weight for my car. The man at Caro Price looked at me as if I was mad (something I have got used to over the past year or so) but I insisted it would be OK and so we loaded half in the boot and half on the back seat.
When Chris got to work he was amazed to find that I had already been to the tile shop and back again - and that his (and my) first job was to carry the tiles up two flights of stairs - what a way to start the day. It being far too early in the morning for Christian to be surfaced, we had to do without the extra welcome pair of hands. Sixteen boxes equals eight times each up and down the stairs and we were both covered in sweat and struggling for breath when we had finished - as good as any gym workout in my view and no doubt I will feel it in my calves and my back tomorrow.
Alas the Audi did not come out of the ordeal undamaged either - the newly fitted exhaust brackets had sheared and the rear of the exhaust pipe was once more hanging free - not sure if the tile trip had caused that or if they were just defective anyway, but it meant another temporary repair using wire until I can get back to the garage and complain.
I couldn't get there today because I needed the car to drop Christian at the airport and then to go to the supermarket to stock up on drinks and tinned goods and then to Tridome for some more bits for Chris and finally back again to Tridome to collect Debrah and all the required stuff for window boxes.
Yes. We have put window boxes (my new children, Chris called them) along the front of the apartments. This evening Debrah and I potted up the geraniums and the like and hung each one from the metal balustrade at each window along the street-facing side of the building - and very lovely they look too.
Next stop - tubs and pots in the courtyard - it's only a matter of time.
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Weird and Strange
What a horrible, horrible day. It rained and rained. There was thunder and lightning and a flood in the courtyard and a strange eerie yellow daylight for most of the morning.
Martin and family left early to get the train to Arles at 7.45am. I packed the luggage in the car and drove it to the station whilst they walked, via the boulangerie en route to collect some breakfast for the journey. By the time they got to the station they were soaked, poor things, but they were on their way to Arles and then Provence and hopefully some sunshine.
At least they had a good day yesterday and were able to explore La Cité in some unexpected (the forecast had been dire) sunshine. Today, however, the direness of the forecast was exactly spot-on. I retreated from the station to home and got on with my chores. Debrah and Christian went out to the market for supplies - then the air turned a yellowy-grey and the rain got harder - then it got even harder so that there was a river running down the street - then it got so hard that the drain in the courtyard couldn't cope and a flood ensued and there was a torrent running down the street and out of every drainpipe and cascading off the gutters that couldn't cope either.
The light was very very wierd. It was the sort of half light, slightly silvery, that you might get at dawn or during an eclipse and it was a bit spooky. We had all the lights on in the house because it was so dim and still the light was strange.
Poor Debrah and Christian returned soaked from above and below - despite riding out the worst of the storm in the safety of Bar Felix. I went down to the courtyard and poked a large piece of old copper pipe into the drain until the water started to run away (never throw away what might seem like useless bits of old junk cos you never know when they might come in useful!)
An hour later the whole episode repeated itself - strange light, enormous downpour, torrents of water - but at least no courtyard flood, due to my copper pipe action. Whilst not reaching the weirdness levels of the morning, the rain continued throughout the day in a relentless and depressing way.
Completely out of the blue, I got an email this morning from the son of the surgeon who sold the apartments to us, Monsieur D'Arzac. He wanted to book a room for his sister and her boyfriend - the same room that she had lived in for 10 years and which we have now converted into our Studio suite - now that seems a bit weird and spooky too. I found out that M. D'Arzac performed the surgery on a friend of mine here who needed a knee replacement and I had given him one of our cards to show him what we had done with the place - maybe that was how the whole thing came about. Well, I will happily put her up for a night and have invited them all to come and look at the transformation of their old living quarters.
Then Debrah gave Christian some post that she had brought with her from the UK - it turned out to be an invite to his dad's forthcoming wedding. The date is 16th August, which also happens to be the date that Debrah and I got married twelve years ago. How weird is that - both of Christians parents will have re-married on exactly the same date! - the most bizarre of coincidences.
I am now going to bed. I hope to have an ordinary night's sleep and wake up to a very ordinary and normal day .... but then again?
Martin and family left early to get the train to Arles at 7.45am. I packed the luggage in the car and drove it to the station whilst they walked, via the boulangerie en route to collect some breakfast for the journey. By the time they got to the station they were soaked, poor things, but they were on their way to Arles and then Provence and hopefully some sunshine.
At least they had a good day yesterday and were able to explore La Cité in some unexpected (the forecast had been dire) sunshine. Today, however, the direness of the forecast was exactly spot-on. I retreated from the station to home and got on with my chores. Debrah and Christian went out to the market for supplies - then the air turned a yellowy-grey and the rain got harder - then it got even harder so that there was a river running down the street - then it got so hard that the drain in the courtyard couldn't cope and a flood ensued and there was a torrent running down the street and out of every drainpipe and cascading off the gutters that couldn't cope either.
The light was very very wierd. It was the sort of half light, slightly silvery, that you might get at dawn or during an eclipse and it was a bit spooky. We had all the lights on in the house because it was so dim and still the light was strange.
Poor Debrah and Christian returned soaked from above and below - despite riding out the worst of the storm in the safety of Bar Felix. I went down to the courtyard and poked a large piece of old copper pipe into the drain until the water started to run away (never throw away what might seem like useless bits of old junk cos you never know when they might come in useful!)
An hour later the whole episode repeated itself - strange light, enormous downpour, torrents of water - but at least no courtyard flood, due to my copper pipe action. Whilst not reaching the weirdness levels of the morning, the rain continued throughout the day in a relentless and depressing way.
Completely out of the blue, I got an email this morning from the son of the surgeon who sold the apartments to us, Monsieur D'Arzac. He wanted to book a room for his sister and her boyfriend - the same room that she had lived in for 10 years and which we have now converted into our Studio suite - now that seems a bit weird and spooky too. I found out that M. D'Arzac performed the surgery on a friend of mine here who needed a knee replacement and I had given him one of our cards to show him what we had done with the place - maybe that was how the whole thing came about. Well, I will happily put her up for a night and have invited them all to come and look at the transformation of their old living quarters.
Then Debrah gave Christian some post that she had brought with her from the UK - it turned out to be an invite to his dad's forthcoming wedding. The date is 16th August, which also happens to be the date that Debrah and I got married twelve years ago. How weird is that - both of Christians parents will have re-married on exactly the same date! - the most bizarre of coincidences.
I am now going to bed. I hope to have an ordinary night's sleep and wake up to a very ordinary and normal day .... but then again?
Monday, 26 May 2008
Friends
We had friends as paying guests this weekend, which was a first, and at the same time had friends here as non-paying guests staying in our spare bedroom - so it was all a bit confusing and poor Christian was turfed out of the spare room as a result. He spent one night with Chris, on the sofa bed in Susan's apartment overlooking the square, and one night on the sofa here - all of which he accepted without question, for which I am very grateful.
Rosie and Martin, and their two children, Victor and Stanley. arrived in Carcassonne on the overnight sleeper train from Paris on Saturday morning at 5.39am. It had left Paris exactly on time and it arrived exactly on time, just as you'd expect from a French train. I'm very glad it was because I would have been less than happy to have got up at 5.00am to meet them if it wasn't.
We wandered back from the station, under a moody looking sky, past the stallholders setting up the Saturday market. They had arrived a good 10 hours before check-in time, but fortunately I had only had one set of guests in and so was able to put them all into one suite where they promptly all collapsed into the sleep that they didn't get on the overnight sleeper.
It meant a same day room change for me but I am so used to them by now that they hold no fears any more. The rest of Saturday was spent as Saturday's usually are here - market shopping for the weekend's food, lunch and socialising at bar Saillan (my guests thought it was a lovely little bar), pottering about the apartment in the afternoon reading the newspaper, checking emails and keeping an eye on the sports scores, prepping and cooking dinner in the evening and finally eating and drinking and chatting into the late hours. This week was more relaxing because it was a large group of old friends catching up with each other - but there is always the washing up after everyone else has finally retired - my day started at 5.00am and finished at 2.00am the following morning.
As always with a large group, it was impossible to decide what to do on Sunday morning and a dark sky and promised showers made the decision even harder. By the time we were organised the morning had all but gone.
The last thing you expect to find on the outskirts of Carcassonne is an theme park dedicated to all things Australian, but that is exactly what we have. When I say theme park I am being rather generous and Disney and Alton Towers need have no fear of the competition, although we all agreed we would never set foot in places like that and that 'Le Parc Australien' was very charming and quite fun for an hour or so in the drizzle. We tried to play the didgeridoo (Christian very good at it / Debrah very amusing with goat imitations!), we looked at the emus and the wallabies and the kangeroos and the rabbit that was so scared by a chicken that it fell into a coma for three days (I kid you not) and played all the games. Sadly there were no boomerang demonstrations because of the wind and rain.
By the time we left, having played with all the musical instruments in the shop on the way out, we were in severe danger of missing lunchtime. We tried Le Moulin at Trebes but they only had a special Mother's Day menu - it being French Mother's Day - and then the Buffalo Grill for a laugh and for the benefit of the kids - but they were unbelievably queuing out of the door to get in there. So finally, I decided we should go into La Cité where I knew we could definitely still get some lunch. Sadly Martin and Rosie couldn't go on a canal trip because the deteriorating weather meant they were cancelled.
The day finished with a massive pile of sausages and potatoes cooked in the oven, more red wine of course and much singing and dancing to sixties, seventies and eighties classics - it's always a winner. It was lovely to see Rosie and Martin so relaxed and happy together - the benefit of a bit of Languedoc therapy.
Rosie and Martin, and their two children, Victor and Stanley. arrived in Carcassonne on the overnight sleeper train from Paris on Saturday morning at 5.39am. It had left Paris exactly on time and it arrived exactly on time, just as you'd expect from a French train. I'm very glad it was because I would have been less than happy to have got up at 5.00am to meet them if it wasn't.
We wandered back from the station, under a moody looking sky, past the stallholders setting up the Saturday market. They had arrived a good 10 hours before check-in time, but fortunately I had only had one set of guests in and so was able to put them all into one suite where they promptly all collapsed into the sleep that they didn't get on the overnight sleeper.
It meant a same day room change for me but I am so used to them by now that they hold no fears any more. The rest of Saturday was spent as Saturday's usually are here - market shopping for the weekend's food, lunch and socialising at bar Saillan (my guests thought it was a lovely little bar), pottering about the apartment in the afternoon reading the newspaper, checking emails and keeping an eye on the sports scores, prepping and cooking dinner in the evening and finally eating and drinking and chatting into the late hours. This week was more relaxing because it was a large group of old friends catching up with each other - but there is always the washing up after everyone else has finally retired - my day started at 5.00am and finished at 2.00am the following morning.
As always with a large group, it was impossible to decide what to do on Sunday morning and a dark sky and promised showers made the decision even harder. By the time we were organised the morning had all but gone.
The last thing you expect to find on the outskirts of Carcassonne is an theme park dedicated to all things Australian, but that is exactly what we have. When I say theme park I am being rather generous and Disney and Alton Towers need have no fear of the competition, although we all agreed we would never set foot in places like that and that 'Le Parc Australien' was very charming and quite fun for an hour or so in the drizzle. We tried to play the didgeridoo (Christian very good at it / Debrah very amusing with goat imitations!), we looked at the emus and the wallabies and the kangeroos and the rabbit that was so scared by a chicken that it fell into a coma for three days (I kid you not) and played all the games. Sadly there were no boomerang demonstrations because of the wind and rain.
By the time we left, having played with all the musical instruments in the shop on the way out, we were in severe danger of missing lunchtime. We tried Le Moulin at Trebes but they only had a special Mother's Day menu - it being French Mother's Day - and then the Buffalo Grill for a laugh and for the benefit of the kids - but they were unbelievably queuing out of the door to get in there. So finally, I decided we should go into La Cité where I knew we could definitely still get some lunch. Sadly Martin and Rosie couldn't go on a canal trip because the deteriorating weather meant they were cancelled.
The day finished with a massive pile of sausages and potatoes cooked in the oven, more red wine of course and much singing and dancing to sixties, seventies and eighties classics - it's always a winner. It was lovely to see Rosie and Martin so relaxed and happy together - the benefit of a bit of Languedoc therapy.
Friday, 23 May 2008
Contacts
We were invited to a soirée at Domaine Gayda this evening, to celebrate the opening of their new terrace. We had established contact with them when we visited for lunch about two months ago, had subsequently exchanged emails and were now on the guestlist. It was a chance to meet some new people and hopefully some useful new contacts.
As far as I was aware there were only two people attending whom I knew - Jamie and Greca from the French Entree website - but that was enough to get us going on introductions and, naturally, Lesa appeared, spreading the good word about 42rvh as always and introducing us to the owner of 'Le Moulin' at Trebes, whom I now have to visit to cement relations. He could be a useful contact as his restaurant is just next to the Canal du Midi and is a natural stop-off for any guests borrowing the bikes and cycling off down the canal for the day.
Before we left we stuck our head into the wine production rooms below the restaurant, which led to a meeting with Matthew Stubbs MW, who is in the process of setting up a wine school and seems like a perfect contact for all those guests wishing to do a quick wine course, a bit of tasting or a more full on wine tour of the region. I think I might go along myself.
We had spent all night just missing the canapes trays and then when we did get to one it didn't really satisfy our food cravings. The dozen sausages sat in the fridge back home became very appealing - so we hotfooted back to Carcassonne and had a late night sausage and potato salad feast - even Christian got up out of bed (tempted by the smell and sizzling noise) to join in briefly. Excellent they were too.
The blockaded guests finally made it here late last evening after an all day drive through France and seem to have had a good day out in La Cité today. Our next guests arrive tomorrow morning at 5.30am at the train station after getting the overnight sleeper from Paris - at least 12 hours before their room will be ready - good grief!
As far as I was aware there were only two people attending whom I knew - Jamie and Greca from the French Entree website - but that was enough to get us going on introductions and, naturally, Lesa appeared, spreading the good word about 42rvh as always and introducing us to the owner of 'Le Moulin' at Trebes, whom I now have to visit to cement relations. He could be a useful contact as his restaurant is just next to the Canal du Midi and is a natural stop-off for any guests borrowing the bikes and cycling off down the canal for the day.
Before we left we stuck our head into the wine production rooms below the restaurant, which led to a meeting with Matthew Stubbs MW, who is in the process of setting up a wine school and seems like a perfect contact for all those guests wishing to do a quick wine course, a bit of tasting or a more full on wine tour of the region. I think I might go along myself.
We had spent all night just missing the canapes trays and then when we did get to one it didn't really satisfy our food cravings. The dozen sausages sat in the fridge back home became very appealing - so we hotfooted back to Carcassonne and had a late night sausage and potato salad feast - even Christian got up out of bed (tempted by the smell and sizzling noise) to join in briefly. Excellent they were too.
The blockaded guests finally made it here late last evening after an all day drive through France and seem to have had a good day out in La Cité today. Our next guests arrive tomorrow morning at 5.30am at the train station after getting the overnight sleeper from Paris - at least 12 hours before their room will be ready - good grief!
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
Water
Just when you think you might have an easier day, something comes along to spoil it. So it was today - just one set of guests, out for the day after an early breakfast, a bit of ironing to do, a relaxed lunch and then catch up on some small jobs I'd been putting off.
It was a glorious Languedoc day, an azure blue cloudless sky in all directions. The morning went as planned - three hours of ironing whilst it was still relatively cool. All the linen and towels were ready for the weekend, when we have a blitz of new guests.
Just before lunch, Chris appeared with news of a mis-labelled plumbing part, which meant an unplanned trip to the DIY store and a hunt for the right size fitting - and there is never a guarantee that they will have the stock as we have found to our cost many times before.
On the way we noticed that there were long queues at all the petrol stations - very strange. I later found out that the French fishermen were causing a spot of bother by blockading the ports and it seems that everyone round here thought there was going to be a fuel shortage - well, they made it so - because everyone in Carcassonne was filling up their car and any available jerrycan with as much fuel as they could get - thus causing many petrol stations to put up 'plus de gazole' signs as they sold out of their stock.
I have no idea what the fishermen were complaining about - probably just the fact that they've been out of the news for a while and felt, as any good and true socialist worker should, that they should exercise their right to protest and cause a bit of a commotion just because they can.
As a result, in mid-afternoon I had a phone call from my next guests due to arrive tomorrow. They were sat in Dover harbour with no prospect of a ferry leaving because of the lines of French fishing boats blocking Calais and had decided that they would have to abandon their trip. I've never had any sympathy with strikers who cause mayhem for others (having endured years of London tube train strikes) and at this point would happily have sunk the whole French fishing fleet on their behalf.
When Christian decided to have a shower the afternoon took another turn for the worse. No-one had used the shower in the spare room since Chris went off to the USA in January. When Christian turned the shower on, water spurted in every direction except downwards where it was intended - the whole shower head had come apart and was spraying water upwards onto the ceiling and sideways onto the wall.
We mopped up and took the shower head off to see what was going on. All the nozzles were totally encrusted with limescale and were thus blocked and water being water it had to find an exit route somewhere - the pressure had blown the shower head apart. I guess that shows how much rubbish there is in the tap water here and the lack of regular use had allowed everything to dry up. I took it apart and did my best to rectify things but couldn't get it all back together. I hadn't wanted to bother Chris with it as he has enough work to do up in Denis' apartment, but I was relieved when his natural curiosity got the better of him and he came to see what was going on and came up with the solution for getting the seal back in the right place and re-attaching one broken nozzle - all that was then left for me to do was poke a needle into each nozzle one by one, wiggle it about a bit and re-attach the shower head - all of which I managed without further mishap.
The day ended on a positive note with a further phone call - the fishermen had suddenly got bored and gone home - the ferries were running again and my next guests had hastened back to Dover and were on their way. I hope they've got plenty of petrol!
It was a glorious Languedoc day, an azure blue cloudless sky in all directions. The morning went as planned - three hours of ironing whilst it was still relatively cool. All the linen and towels were ready for the weekend, when we have a blitz of new guests.
Just before lunch, Chris appeared with news of a mis-labelled plumbing part, which meant an unplanned trip to the DIY store and a hunt for the right size fitting - and there is never a guarantee that they will have the stock as we have found to our cost many times before.
On the way we noticed that there were long queues at all the petrol stations - very strange. I later found out that the French fishermen were causing a spot of bother by blockading the ports and it seems that everyone round here thought there was going to be a fuel shortage - well, they made it so - because everyone in Carcassonne was filling up their car and any available jerrycan with as much fuel as they could get - thus causing many petrol stations to put up 'plus de gazole' signs as they sold out of their stock.
I have no idea what the fishermen were complaining about - probably just the fact that they've been out of the news for a while and felt, as any good and true socialist worker should, that they should exercise their right to protest and cause a bit of a commotion just because they can.
As a result, in mid-afternoon I had a phone call from my next guests due to arrive tomorrow. They were sat in Dover harbour with no prospect of a ferry leaving because of the lines of French fishing boats blocking Calais and had decided that they would have to abandon their trip. I've never had any sympathy with strikers who cause mayhem for others (having endured years of London tube train strikes) and at this point would happily have sunk the whole French fishing fleet on their behalf.
When Christian decided to have a shower the afternoon took another turn for the worse. No-one had used the shower in the spare room since Chris went off to the USA in January. When Christian turned the shower on, water spurted in every direction except downwards where it was intended - the whole shower head had come apart and was spraying water upwards onto the ceiling and sideways onto the wall.
We mopped up and took the shower head off to see what was going on. All the nozzles were totally encrusted with limescale and were thus blocked and water being water it had to find an exit route somewhere - the pressure had blown the shower head apart. I guess that shows how much rubbish there is in the tap water here and the lack of regular use had allowed everything to dry up. I took it apart and did my best to rectify things but couldn't get it all back together. I hadn't wanted to bother Chris with it as he has enough work to do up in Denis' apartment, but I was relieved when his natural curiosity got the better of him and he came to see what was going on and came up with the solution for getting the seal back in the right place and re-attaching one broken nozzle - all that was then left for me to do was poke a needle into each nozzle one by one, wiggle it about a bit and re-attach the shower head - all of which I managed without further mishap.
The day ended on a positive note with a further phone call - the fishermen had suddenly got bored and gone home - the ferries were running again and my next guests had hastened back to Dover and were on their way. I hope they've got plenty of petrol!
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
New Arrivals
My first Australian guests arrived yesterday afternoon. A lovely couple on a trip to the UK for a family wedding and getting in a bit of France whilst they are over here from the other side of the world.
It turned out that they had spent two nights already at the Hotel de la Cité - so I wondered what they would make of it slumming down here in the old town without 24 hour room service and all the other five star luxuries.
I got off to a bad start - I wasn't sure what time they were going to arrive and risked a late afternoon trip to Tridome for building supplies for Chris - but they turned up bang on 4.30pm (when we say rooms will be ready for check-in) and I kept them waiting for half an hour as a result. I have never felt so embarrassed.
So it was straight into over-servicing mode and I hope that after canapes and a restaurant recommendation last night and map lending and day trip planning this morning and dinner this evening, I have rescued the bad start. We had a very enjoyable dinner and conversation this evening and they ate everything put in front of them, which is always a good sign - so fingers crossed. Tomorrow I am sending them off on a wine tasting tour of the Cabardes and Minervois.
In the meantime, Christian arrived from England. He is here for a week initially, in the middle of his exams, and will then come back for a month after he has finished them for a bit of Languedoc therapy - sun, slower pace, a bit of manual labour for me and for Chris and a change of air from London life - after which I hope we and he will know where his next steps will lead.
I introduced him gently with a steak lunch in the square - like we need an excuse - and then he was straight into help mode with me on a supermarket re-stocking run and then rubbish removal for Chris upstairs. He did revert to type by asking me if I needed any help with dinner at the exact moment that I had finished two hours prep and just sat down for a moment - well, you can't expect the world on day one - it was a good start and it's good to have him here with us.
I just need to keep him away from a 'Men Behaving Badly' Chris and Patrick night out for a couple of weeks, at least until we've had time to work on him a bit!
It turned out that they had spent two nights already at the Hotel de la Cité - so I wondered what they would make of it slumming down here in the old town without 24 hour room service and all the other five star luxuries.
I got off to a bad start - I wasn't sure what time they were going to arrive and risked a late afternoon trip to Tridome for building supplies for Chris - but they turned up bang on 4.30pm (when we say rooms will be ready for check-in) and I kept them waiting for half an hour as a result. I have never felt so embarrassed.
So it was straight into over-servicing mode and I hope that after canapes and a restaurant recommendation last night and map lending and day trip planning this morning and dinner this evening, I have rescued the bad start. We had a very enjoyable dinner and conversation this evening and they ate everything put in front of them, which is always a good sign - so fingers crossed. Tomorrow I am sending them off on a wine tasting tour of the Cabardes and Minervois.
In the meantime, Christian arrived from England. He is here for a week initially, in the middle of his exams, and will then come back for a month after he has finished them for a bit of Languedoc therapy - sun, slower pace, a bit of manual labour for me and for Chris and a change of air from London life - after which I hope we and he will know where his next steps will lead.
I introduced him gently with a steak lunch in the square - like we need an excuse - and then he was straight into help mode with me on a supermarket re-stocking run and then rubbish removal for Chris upstairs. He did revert to type by asking me if I needed any help with dinner at the exact moment that I had finished two hours prep and just sat down for a moment - well, you can't expect the world on day one - it was a good start and it's good to have him here with us.
I just need to keep him away from a 'Men Behaving Badly' Chris and Patrick night out for a couple of weeks, at least until we've had time to work on him a bit!
Monday, 19 May 2008
An Odd mix
We were stood outside, in the light drizzle, at the first street party of the season - rue Aigle D'or, Saturday night - when a Ryanair jet flew low overhead on it's final approach to Carcassonne airport. "Blimey, that's a bit late" was the general view, before everyone got back to the serious business of Minervois wine tasting - the excuse for the party - and dancing and singing along to the camp euro club classics that seem to be all the rage here. The Boys Town Gang version of 'Can't take my eyes off you' was still ringing in my ears 24 hours after. Anyway, enough about the highly cultural Saturday evenings that Debrah and I occasionally embark upon and back to the aeroplane.
In the same way that I managed to misjudge a parking space recently, thus shattering the front offside indicator on the Audi - now fixed again - the pilot of the lunchtime flight back to Stansted on Saturday misjudged the length of the wings and the nearness of the terminal building whilst taxiing, resulting in a bit of damage to both stationary and moving object and rendering the flight non-operable in an instant. I am sure that within Ryanair, the pilot will become known as 'the man who hit the terminal in Carcassonne'. End of promising career.
The flight coming in so late was the replacement plane to fly the poor passengers to London finally - I guess they had spent 12 hours at the airport, which must be the grimmest 12 hours I could imagine - there being absolutely nothing to do at Carcassonne airport. The damaged plane remains here whilst the engineers rushed up from Gerona in Spain decide what to do with it. Naturally, this incident that saw nobody hurt and a bit of minor damage and some inconvenience to 130 passengers was front page news in the local papers, trumping both the vide-grenier (rubbish - literally) and the overnight torching of a car in the poor suburb (predictable).
My late night Saturday was followed by a late night Sunday dinner with guests who didn't want to go to bed and another day of changeovers, airport runs and new guest arrivals today. As soon as I finish writing this I'll be off to bed, especially as my new guests want an 8am breakfast.
This morning's activity was hampered by not wanting to miss a delivery that was crucial to the timing of the renovation works going on upstairs in Denis' apartment. My doorbell is not the loudest and therefore easy to miss, especially if I am cleaning out a bathroom, with the extractor fan whirring away, or vacuuming or just distracted by the noise of the street. Having missed the delivery last week, the delivery company had promised me last Friday that the parcel would be re-delivered before 1pm today - so it was no surprise at all that it finally turned up at 2.50pm - right on French time - clearly the driver had been behind schedule and stopped for lunch and you can't complain about a Frenchman's right to stop for lunch.
Talking of food, Debrah and I munched our way through 3kg of delicious local mussels at the weekend - which I tell you just because I was impressed with our effort - not to mention the hour I spent beforehand cleaning them all.
One set of guests went out to Le Parc, one of our Michelin starred restaurants, for a birthday celebration. Whilst they were waiting downstairs at the end of the archway for the cab to appear, she was blatently chatted up by a passer-by, who said that he wanted to paint her and that she was beautiful, all right in front of her boyfriend. Debrah complains about the same attitude from French women who flirt with me in front of her before giving her a withering look of disdain. Bizarre behaviour.
On the theme of bizarre behaviour, a woman dressed as a banana got off Debrah's flight on Friday lunchtime and a man/woman (couldn't tell which) dressed as a horse was handing out leaflets in the square. The horse was promoting the race meeting on Sunday. I think the banana was part of a hen party and we certainly don't want to encourage that type of activity - thankfully we didn't see her again.
So there it is, the usual mixture of wierd and wonderful, odd and original and mundane and marvellous that makes up a normal weekend in Carcassonne. What's next?
In the same way that I managed to misjudge a parking space recently, thus shattering the front offside indicator on the Audi - now fixed again - the pilot of the lunchtime flight back to Stansted on Saturday misjudged the length of the wings and the nearness of the terminal building whilst taxiing, resulting in a bit of damage to both stationary and moving object and rendering the flight non-operable in an instant. I am sure that within Ryanair, the pilot will become known as 'the man who hit the terminal in Carcassonne'. End of promising career.
The flight coming in so late was the replacement plane to fly the poor passengers to London finally - I guess they had spent 12 hours at the airport, which must be the grimmest 12 hours I could imagine - there being absolutely nothing to do at Carcassonne airport. The damaged plane remains here whilst the engineers rushed up from Gerona in Spain decide what to do with it. Naturally, this incident that saw nobody hurt and a bit of minor damage and some inconvenience to 130 passengers was front page news in the local papers, trumping both the vide-grenier (rubbish - literally) and the overnight torching of a car in the poor suburb (predictable).
My late night Saturday was followed by a late night Sunday dinner with guests who didn't want to go to bed and another day of changeovers, airport runs and new guest arrivals today. As soon as I finish writing this I'll be off to bed, especially as my new guests want an 8am breakfast.
This morning's activity was hampered by not wanting to miss a delivery that was crucial to the timing of the renovation works going on upstairs in Denis' apartment. My doorbell is not the loudest and therefore easy to miss, especially if I am cleaning out a bathroom, with the extractor fan whirring away, or vacuuming or just distracted by the noise of the street. Having missed the delivery last week, the delivery company had promised me last Friday that the parcel would be re-delivered before 1pm today - so it was no surprise at all that it finally turned up at 2.50pm - right on French time - clearly the driver had been behind schedule and stopped for lunch and you can't complain about a Frenchman's right to stop for lunch.
Talking of food, Debrah and I munched our way through 3kg of delicious local mussels at the weekend - which I tell you just because I was impressed with our effort - not to mention the hour I spent beforehand cleaning them all.
One set of guests went out to Le Parc, one of our Michelin starred restaurants, for a birthday celebration. Whilst they were waiting downstairs at the end of the archway for the cab to appear, she was blatently chatted up by a passer-by, who said that he wanted to paint her and that she was beautiful, all right in front of her boyfriend. Debrah complains about the same attitude from French women who flirt with me in front of her before giving her a withering look of disdain. Bizarre behaviour.
On the theme of bizarre behaviour, a woman dressed as a banana got off Debrah's flight on Friday lunchtime and a man/woman (couldn't tell which) dressed as a horse was handing out leaflets in the square. The horse was promoting the race meeting on Sunday. I think the banana was part of a hen party and we certainly don't want to encourage that type of activity - thankfully we didn't see her again.
So there it is, the usual mixture of wierd and wonderful, odd and original and mundane and marvellous that makes up a normal weekend in Carcassonne. What's next?
Friday, 16 May 2008
Car Repairs
My car went back this morning for it's third visit to Garage Clement. The first had been to arrange the CAT and the second to fix the minor faults that had been identified and the third was to replace the indicator housing which I had smashed, in a complete miscalculation of the space/time continium, whilst parking at Tridome a week ago.
Three garage visits, one cheque for €63 for the CAT and a final bill covering everything of only €208 - most of which was parts. It still amazes me how French businesses make any money.
The owner of Garage Clement is clearly a car enthusiast and a die-hard mechanic doing exactly what he wants to do - tinkering about with cars. We conversed with difficulty because his mumbled accented French combined with the technical terms for various car parts was too much for me but he understood that I wanted it fixed and I wanted him to do it - and he did.
He also fixed the very wobbly drivers seat-back. which I didn't ask him to look at and for which he didn't charge me. So, he is a bit of a perfectionist, who can't leave something undone - if it's wrong he has to put it right. For that reason I will use him again when needed - but hopefully that won't be for another two years until the next CAT is due.
Three garage visits, one cheque for €63 for the CAT and a final bill covering everything of only €208 - most of which was parts. It still amazes me how French businesses make any money.
The owner of Garage Clement is clearly a car enthusiast and a die-hard mechanic doing exactly what he wants to do - tinkering about with cars. We conversed with difficulty because his mumbled accented French combined with the technical terms for various car parts was too much for me but he understood that I wanted it fixed and I wanted him to do it - and he did.
He also fixed the very wobbly drivers seat-back. which I didn't ask him to look at and for which he didn't charge me. So, he is a bit of a perfectionist, who can't leave something undone - if it's wrong he has to put it right. For that reason I will use him again when needed - but hopefully that won't be for another two years until the next CAT is due.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Turning French
The big changeover day came and went and, as with most things that you build up in your mind to be something difficult, it all passed by very calmly and all got done more quickly and efficiently than I dared hope. Preparation is the key, and I was ready to go from first thing this morning with clean towels and sheets, and everything else required, all piled up for instant action. The danger now is that I will be too complacent about the next one - on Friday - so I will guard against that by getting everything I need ready to go tomorrow night. I predict a day of washing and ironing.
The Oxfordshire guests were very sweet when they left - vowing to send his mum and dad over for a stay. He admitted that my breakfasts here had converted him from full English to continental - we'll see how long that lasts without the same quality of fresh fruit and someone making him a nice smoothie every morning and the irresistable smell of English bacon sizzling in a pan - but it was a very lovely compliment.
The mention of bacon makes me realise that it is one of the very few things I miss about home. Suddenly I want a bacon sandwich. It's not often that I crave for things from home - but a good, or better still a bad, bacon sandwich is hard to beat, with fresh tomato and salt and pepper, naturally.
I met Patrick this evening. We watched the UEFA Cup Final on a TV in a bar where nobody could have cared less - actually we weren't that bothered either. Patrick needed to let off steam from a frustrating day of trying to get his French bank loans sorted for the bar and the predictable delays caused by the fact that nobody French has done any work for the past fortnight.
I had tried to tell him before but he hadn't believed me - but finally he might have given in to the fact that he needs to operate on Carcassonne time. He's still being a bit Chicago, though - storming into the bank today and demanding stuff in badly spoken French - it isn't going to get him what he wants because they always play their trump card - the shoulder shrug, and they are better at it than we are.
So we shared a bottle of red and tucked into a couple of plates of duck (what else) and had a general moan and a good old gossip - just like a couple of regular French blokes.
The Oxfordshire guests were very sweet when they left - vowing to send his mum and dad over for a stay. He admitted that my breakfasts here had converted him from full English to continental - we'll see how long that lasts without the same quality of fresh fruit and someone making him a nice smoothie every morning and the irresistable smell of English bacon sizzling in a pan - but it was a very lovely compliment.
The mention of bacon makes me realise that it is one of the very few things I miss about home. Suddenly I want a bacon sandwich. It's not often that I crave for things from home - but a good, or better still a bad, bacon sandwich is hard to beat, with fresh tomato and salt and pepper, naturally.
I met Patrick this evening. We watched the UEFA Cup Final on a TV in a bar where nobody could have cared less - actually we weren't that bothered either. Patrick needed to let off steam from a frustrating day of trying to get his French bank loans sorted for the bar and the predictable delays caused by the fact that nobody French has done any work for the past fortnight.
I had tried to tell him before but he hadn't believed me - but finally he might have given in to the fact that he needs to operate on Carcassonne time. He's still being a bit Chicago, though - storming into the bank today and demanding stuff in badly spoken French - it isn't going to get him what he wants because they always play their trump card - the shoulder shrug, and they are better at it than we are.
So we shared a bottle of red and tucked into a couple of plates of duck (what else) and had a general moan and a good old gossip - just like a couple of regular French blokes.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Ready to go
Today was the lull before the storm. Tomorrow I have to do my first ever same day room changeover on both suites - politely usher the existing guests out after their breakfast, strip out the rooms of bedding, towels and rubbish, clean from top to bottom and remake beds and re-stock kitchens and bathrooms - whilst collecting new guests from the airport on the lunchtime flight and dropping off old guests for the afternoon flight.
Although today was relatively quiet, there is an air of expectation about tomorrow. So I sorted out a lot of small jobs that needed doing including getting my hair cut (well overdue), washing the car, replacing the battery in the car key fob, stocking up with breakfast fruit at the market and ironing everything that I could lay my hands on so that I have two piles of clean pressed sheets and towels ready to go asap in the morning.
So nothing very exciting to report on really. France went back to school and back to work, one set of guests went cycling, the others went to Toulouse shopping and the sun came out again.
Although today was relatively quiet, there is an air of expectation about tomorrow. So I sorted out a lot of small jobs that needed doing including getting my hair cut (well overdue), washing the car, replacing the battery in the car key fob, stocking up with breakfast fruit at the market and ironing everything that I could lay my hands on so that I have two piles of clean pressed sheets and towels ready to go asap in the morning.
So nothing very exciting to report on really. France went back to school and back to work, one set of guests went cycling, the others went to Toulouse shopping and the sun came out again.
Monday, 12 May 2008
Holiday
Mondays are normally quiet, but today turned out to be even quieter than usual. It was a holiday here today in France - something religious called Pentecost, which apparently refers to the fiftieth day after Easter and marks the day that the Holy Ghost descended from heaven and appeared before the apostles (and yes I did know that without having to look it up). Therefore, it is a moveable holiday and this year is especially early because Easter was early.
What I find interesting about it is that in France the holiday follows the movement of Easter in the calendar, whereas in the UK it doesn't. In the UK, Pentecost is known as Whit Sunday or Whitsun - and whilst Easter moves around the calendar dependent on the moon or whatever, Whitsun is always the last Monday in May - so we move Easter every year but keep Whitsun the same - doesn't make political or religious sense to me, but then when did anything claiming to be political or religious sense actually make any sense.
What is much more interesting is the complete and utter stagnation of the French economy over the last two weeks. You might think it would be hard to notice a change of pace of an economy moving at snails pace but I assure you that it has been especially hard to get anything achieved here over the last fortnight.
By my reckoning, since the close of business (at 4.45pm) on 30th April, most of France has worked at best three whole days in the last twelve.
May day was the Workers Holiday, introduced in the depths of time to give the poor oppressed downtrodden workers a day of respite from their capitalist overlords - surely the most redundant excuse for a holiday there could be in France today but jealously guarded by all true Socialists, which every Frenchman becomes around this time of year.
The 8th of May is VE day and marks the liberty of France from the Nazi oppressor in 1945 - a day when every true Frenchman claims to have either actually played a huge part in driving the Germans out of the country and to have been a true patriot and staunch member of the resistance and to have never ever collaborated with the enemy, or to be descended from someone just like that.
Finally today was Pentecost, and everyone went to church to give thanks for the Lord Jesus or just stayed at home in bed and muttered a prayer or two. Our French friends were planning a weekend in St Tropez, which says everything about the religious devotion of French catholics, and were only denied by the atrocious weather forecast ahead of the holiday.
Three holidays, four days of weekend and two days that fell between holidays and weekends which weren't worth going into work for - and I bet a lot of people didn't bother with the other three days either. 'Mon Dieu' - you might say.
It was business as usual at 42rvh though. Breakfast for the guests in the Studio and then get the Apartment ready (just in time) for new arrivals around lunchtime and finish last nights washing up, spend an hour or so doing admin and answering emails, check with Chris that all was ok with the upstairs renovation (and get the latest Chris and Patrick exploits from the weekend - those boys are going to get the wrong reputation in this town!), a trip to Tridome (shockingly open for business) for some materials and hopefully an early night.
What I find interesting about it is that in France the holiday follows the movement of Easter in the calendar, whereas in the UK it doesn't. In the UK, Pentecost is known as Whit Sunday or Whitsun - and whilst Easter moves around the calendar dependent on the moon or whatever, Whitsun is always the last Monday in May - so we move Easter every year but keep Whitsun the same - doesn't make political or religious sense to me, but then when did anything claiming to be political or religious sense actually make any sense.
What is much more interesting is the complete and utter stagnation of the French economy over the last two weeks. You might think it would be hard to notice a change of pace of an economy moving at snails pace but I assure you that it has been especially hard to get anything achieved here over the last fortnight.
By my reckoning, since the close of business (at 4.45pm) on 30th April, most of France has worked at best three whole days in the last twelve.
May day was the Workers Holiday, introduced in the depths of time to give the poor oppressed downtrodden workers a day of respite from their capitalist overlords - surely the most redundant excuse for a holiday there could be in France today but jealously guarded by all true Socialists, which every Frenchman becomes around this time of year.
The 8th of May is VE day and marks the liberty of France from the Nazi oppressor in 1945 - a day when every true Frenchman claims to have either actually played a huge part in driving the Germans out of the country and to have been a true patriot and staunch member of the resistance and to have never ever collaborated with the enemy, or to be descended from someone just like that.
Finally today was Pentecost, and everyone went to church to give thanks for the Lord Jesus or just stayed at home in bed and muttered a prayer or two. Our French friends were planning a weekend in St Tropez, which says everything about the religious devotion of French catholics, and were only denied by the atrocious weather forecast ahead of the holiday.
Three holidays, four days of weekend and two days that fell between holidays and weekends which weren't worth going into work for - and I bet a lot of people didn't bother with the other three days either. 'Mon Dieu' - you might say.
It was business as usual at 42rvh though. Breakfast for the guests in the Studio and then get the Apartment ready (just in time) for new arrivals around lunchtime and finish last nights washing up, spend an hour or so doing admin and answering emails, check with Chris that all was ok with the upstairs renovation (and get the latest Chris and Patrick exploits from the weekend - those boys are going to get the wrong reputation in this town!), a trip to Tridome (shockingly open for business) for some materials and hopefully an early night.
Sunday, 11 May 2008
Full
I'm relieved that tomorrow's new guests are here for two nights on a bed and breakfast basis - I don't think I could face another four course dinner having just prepared and eaten two in two days - partly because I just feel full and partly because I am just tired.
We had a very entertaining dinner last night - husband having finally joined wife. we had a lot in common (London, media etc) and there was a lot of conversation about the buying and wearing of shoes which clearly only involved the two females at the dinner table - and I suspect that more shoe conversations and further get-togethers will ensue as a result. There was a very funny story about the Savoy Grill, some pressed duck and an aspidistra - but I honestly couldn't reveal any more without betraying confidences.
Debrah arrived here on Friday for a very short break, and immediately the weather turned for the worse - not that I am linking the two events in any way - that would be ridiculous thinking. About an hour after she left this afternoon, dodging the drizzle, the clouds disappeared and a beautiful evening followed - just co-incidence I'm sure. It was so windy on Saturday lunchtime that the clientele at the Saillan were visibly disturbed by gusts of wind blowing their full glasses of wine off the tables - and nothing upsets a Saturday lunchtime drinker more than the waste of good, or even bad, wine.
During the same lunchtime, it came to my attention that there appears to be someone masquerading as my wife in the town - someone who clearly isn't my wife - which is bizarre, fascinating and disconcerting all at the same time. A local estate agent told me that she had met my wife ten days ago and offered to give her French lessons - which was a complete mystery to Debrah and also to me. I am so intrigued - further news forthcoming when I get to the bottom of it.
Chris has suddenly turned into the 'Casanova of Carcassonne', as Debrah described him. He has at least two women seemingly intent on getting to know him better and even my limited French understood the phrase 'couchez avec moi' even if Chris pretended not too. He treats it all with a stoic nonchalence and has even developed a classic gallic shrug to use when asked about it.
I have just finished the second dinner of the weekend with my new guests - a very sweet and very young couple from Oxfordshire. I think they had a good time - I've done (most) of the tidying up and now I am going to bed before I fall asleep on my keyboard,
Just before I go - a short cheer for Bolton Wanderers, who not only avoided relegation but also helped to stop Chelsea winning the league - hurrah on both counts.
We had a very entertaining dinner last night - husband having finally joined wife. we had a lot in common (London, media etc) and there was a lot of conversation about the buying and wearing of shoes which clearly only involved the two females at the dinner table - and I suspect that more shoe conversations and further get-togethers will ensue as a result. There was a very funny story about the Savoy Grill, some pressed duck and an aspidistra - but I honestly couldn't reveal any more without betraying confidences.
Debrah arrived here on Friday for a very short break, and immediately the weather turned for the worse - not that I am linking the two events in any way - that would be ridiculous thinking. About an hour after she left this afternoon, dodging the drizzle, the clouds disappeared and a beautiful evening followed - just co-incidence I'm sure. It was so windy on Saturday lunchtime that the clientele at the Saillan were visibly disturbed by gusts of wind blowing their full glasses of wine off the tables - and nothing upsets a Saturday lunchtime drinker more than the waste of good, or even bad, wine.
During the same lunchtime, it came to my attention that there appears to be someone masquerading as my wife in the town - someone who clearly isn't my wife - which is bizarre, fascinating and disconcerting all at the same time. A local estate agent told me that she had met my wife ten days ago and offered to give her French lessons - which was a complete mystery to Debrah and also to me. I am so intrigued - further news forthcoming when I get to the bottom of it.
Chris has suddenly turned into the 'Casanova of Carcassonne', as Debrah described him. He has at least two women seemingly intent on getting to know him better and even my limited French understood the phrase 'couchez avec moi' even if Chris pretended not too. He treats it all with a stoic nonchalence and has even developed a classic gallic shrug to use when asked about it.
I have just finished the second dinner of the weekend with my new guests - a very sweet and very young couple from Oxfordshire. I think they had a good time - I've done (most) of the tidying up and now I am going to bed before I fall asleep on my keyboard,
Just before I go - a short cheer for Bolton Wanderers, who not only avoided relegation but also helped to stop Chelsea winning the league - hurrah on both counts.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Bits missing
The Studio guests left today and new guests arrived. Well, actually it was a new guest because her husband had taken their son's passport to Stansted airport rather than his own and so couldn't get on the flight - but she came anyway and left him to follow on behind tomorrow - way to go girl. Apparently, he did a similar thing on their honeymoon and she went without him then as well.
I was beginning to worry when I couldn't get the car started with guests on board for the airport run - the battery in the key fob had decided to pack up and so it wasn't disengaging the engine immobiliser - whatever, it wouldn't start. Finally I remembered the alternative method and away we went - but I am glad the car is going into the garage in the morning to have a few bits sorted out.
All in all an eventful day which has flown by as usual - all morning spent ironing before the airport run, then a nice break for a bit of lunch with Gary and Chris before more cleaning, another trip to the DIY stores, putting plasterboard up on ceilings in Denis' flat and Niall dropping in with the scale plans that we had requested - then drinks with my new guest, find her a restaurant and a bit of tapas and a glass of wine with Patrick and Chris and the day is over
I didn't get to make my cake, which was a disappointment.
I was beginning to worry when I couldn't get the car started with guests on board for the airport run - the battery in the key fob had decided to pack up and so it wasn't disengaging the engine immobiliser - whatever, it wouldn't start. Finally I remembered the alternative method and away we went - but I am glad the car is going into the garage in the morning to have a few bits sorted out.
All in all an eventful day which has flown by as usual - all morning spent ironing before the airport run, then a nice break for a bit of lunch with Gary and Chris before more cleaning, another trip to the DIY stores, putting plasterboard up on ceilings in Denis' flat and Niall dropping in with the scale plans that we had requested - then drinks with my new guest, find her a restaurant and a bit of tapas and a glass of wine with Patrick and Chris and the day is over
I didn't get to make my cake, which was a disappointment.
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
A Normal Working Day
Today was nothing more than a mundane working day. I spent the morning ironing, making a breakfast, shopping and cleaning - I say morning, but I didn't stop until 2pm to have some lunch which is bound to get the French 'garde le midi pour dejeuner' lobby up in arms.
I started by ironing the bedding and towels for the appartment and then went down to town to buy the viennoisserie for the guests breakfast. To my surprise I met Chris at 8.15am on his way up to Denis' apartment to start work - that bed of his at Susan's must be very uncomfortable.
I was also surprised to find the Thursday market, because it was Wednesday - and then I remembered that tomorrow is yet another 'ferié' and the French world as we know it will come to another grinding halt. Actually, the French world had only just got back into first gear from the last holiday last week, so a grinding halt was a bit of an exaggeration - more like knocking it back into neutral and coasting for a bit longer. Some places in town didn't just make a bridge last Friday, but cantilevered all the way into this week's holiday - well it wasn't really worth opening for the three days in between - I mean, they might have made some money but then they would have actually had to do some work!
So I had to rework my plans for the week (heh - planning is important) and so after sorting the breakfast for my guests I went back down to the market to ensure that the Thursday shopping list was covered off.
The cleaning was in the Apartment and in my bedroom. I have new guests arriving tomorrow, so the Apartment needed to be spotless and my bedroom had been neglected somewhat, inevitably when all my focus is on guests, but I wanted to make it a lovely clean spot for Debrah this weekend - aahh.
Then this afternoon turned into one of those frustrating tours around various DIY shops with Chris, looking for stuff that we need for the renovation that was there last week but seems to have disappeared this week and just elicits 'I don't care' shrugs from the staff at these places when you ask when are they going to get more stock - it is payback for being a bit lucky with the toilet last weekend.
We were so frustrated that we had to go and sit in the square and have a couple of beers. It was really windy today - we didn't really notice until we were sat out in the open enjoying a cold one, even after driving around with the top down in the car. It was actually quite a nice day, very warm and mostly sunny but just a bit windy - so it was a bit of a surprise as we sat there in our short-sleeved T-shirts to see the bloke sit down at the next table in full raincoat apparel fully buttoned up to his chin - the chance of rain today was less than zero. He didn't look mad, he just looked stupid - but then they are still many French people who haven't yet put their coats away because, let's face it, 25 degrees isn't all that!
This land is all so bizarre and all so charming at the same time.
I started by ironing the bedding and towels for the appartment and then went down to town to buy the viennoisserie for the guests breakfast. To my surprise I met Chris at 8.15am on his way up to Denis' apartment to start work - that bed of his at Susan's must be very uncomfortable.
I was also surprised to find the Thursday market, because it was Wednesday - and then I remembered that tomorrow is yet another 'ferié' and the French world as we know it will come to another grinding halt. Actually, the French world had only just got back into first gear from the last holiday last week, so a grinding halt was a bit of an exaggeration - more like knocking it back into neutral and coasting for a bit longer. Some places in town didn't just make a bridge last Friday, but cantilevered all the way into this week's holiday - well it wasn't really worth opening for the three days in between - I mean, they might have made some money but then they would have actually had to do some work!
So I had to rework my plans for the week (heh - planning is important) and so after sorting the breakfast for my guests I went back down to the market to ensure that the Thursday shopping list was covered off.
The cleaning was in the Apartment and in my bedroom. I have new guests arriving tomorrow, so the Apartment needed to be spotless and my bedroom had been neglected somewhat, inevitably when all my focus is on guests, but I wanted to make it a lovely clean spot for Debrah this weekend - aahh.
Then this afternoon turned into one of those frustrating tours around various DIY shops with Chris, looking for stuff that we need for the renovation that was there last week but seems to have disappeared this week and just elicits 'I don't care' shrugs from the staff at these places when you ask when are they going to get more stock - it is payback for being a bit lucky with the toilet last weekend.
We were so frustrated that we had to go and sit in the square and have a couple of beers. It was really windy today - we didn't really notice until we were sat out in the open enjoying a cold one, even after driving around with the top down in the car. It was actually quite a nice day, very warm and mostly sunny but just a bit windy - so it was a bit of a surprise as we sat there in our short-sleeved T-shirts to see the bloke sit down at the next table in full raincoat apparel fully buttoned up to his chin - the chance of rain today was less than zero. He didn't look mad, he just looked stupid - but then they are still many French people who haven't yet put their coats away because, let's face it, 25 degrees isn't all that!
This land is all so bizarre and all so charming at the same time.
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Red, Rosé or Champagne
We have had our first red wine incident in one of the suites - one of the guests knocked over a glass onto the carpet. It might have been worse if it had gone onto the white flocati rug but I would happily have taken a broken glass and a spillage on the tiled floor instead.
They were very pro-active in trying to soak the wine out but a red wine stain is the devil to remove. After I had dropped Debrah at the airport at lunchtime, I went off to the DIY superstore and the supermarket and scoured the shelves for a 'wonder' product that might solve the problem. I now own a whole array of products and as I type, I still have a red wine stain on the carpet in the Studio. No wonder.
I don't think it is any coincidence that we held an impromptu rosé wine tasting earlier in the evening. Myself and Debrah and Chris and Alan, the guest in question, sat around our kitchen table and tested four different rosés with the aim of finding something suitable as our house rosé for the summer. It was conducted in all seriousness and most of each bottle remains in my fridge - but rosé has a dangerous way of creeping up on you, even in small quantites - be warned!
As you will have gathered, Debrah has gone back to London - which left both of us feeling a bit miserable. It is only for a couple of days and she will be back on Friday but the place always feels a bit empty just after she has gone.
Maybe that contributed to my awful performance in my French lesson this evening. For the first time, I felt as if I couldn't understand a word that Amelié was saying to me - she did admit that she was pushing me to go on up to a new level - but I felt as if, suddenly, I couldn't speak the language - oh for one of those Matrix style brain implants - 'downloading modern French with southern accent and swear word addendums' - instant fluency but none of the 'fun' of getting it wrong all the time.
This afternoon, because my French is better than his, I helped Chris get a couple of extra keys sorted out for his new apartment in town that he is sharing with Susan (they only had one key between them so had to keep calling each other to be let in). Then we went off to visit Niall in the money pit 'Domaine' to see if we could find a way of doing some work for him. Whilst nothing is agreed, we are making some progress towards working out a schedule and a specification and a price. We shall see.
And then finally, this evening, our first honeymooners booked to stay here, which is very exciting - and another first for 42rvh. All together now - aaahhhhh!!
They were very pro-active in trying to soak the wine out but a red wine stain is the devil to remove. After I had dropped Debrah at the airport at lunchtime, I went off to the DIY superstore and the supermarket and scoured the shelves for a 'wonder' product that might solve the problem. I now own a whole array of products and as I type, I still have a red wine stain on the carpet in the Studio. No wonder.
I don't think it is any coincidence that we held an impromptu rosé wine tasting earlier in the evening. Myself and Debrah and Chris and Alan, the guest in question, sat around our kitchen table and tested four different rosés with the aim of finding something suitable as our house rosé for the summer. It was conducted in all seriousness and most of each bottle remains in my fridge - but rosé has a dangerous way of creeping up on you, even in small quantites - be warned!
As you will have gathered, Debrah has gone back to London - which left both of us feeling a bit miserable. It is only for a couple of days and she will be back on Friday but the place always feels a bit empty just after she has gone.
Maybe that contributed to my awful performance in my French lesson this evening. For the first time, I felt as if I couldn't understand a word that Amelié was saying to me - she did admit that she was pushing me to go on up to a new level - but I felt as if, suddenly, I couldn't speak the language - oh for one of those Matrix style brain implants - 'downloading modern French with southern accent and swear word addendums' - instant fluency but none of the 'fun' of getting it wrong all the time.
This afternoon, because my French is better than his, I helped Chris get a couple of extra keys sorted out for his new apartment in town that he is sharing with Susan (they only had one key between them so had to keep calling each other to be let in). Then we went off to visit Niall in the money pit 'Domaine' to see if we could find a way of doing some work for him. Whilst nothing is agreed, we are making some progress towards working out a schedule and a specification and a price. We shall see.
And then finally, this evening, our first honeymooners booked to stay here, which is very exciting - and another first for 42rvh. All together now - aaahhhhh!!
Monday, 5 May 2008
Busy
This weekend was the start of an extremely busy two or three weeks - which is obviously good but also means I will need to be very organised to deal with the number of same day changeovers that are coming up - or I will need a bit of help.
Chris and I had a bit of help from Gary on Saturday afternoon. We had tried to organise the self-drive rental of the Tridome van during the week but Saturday afternoon was the only time available, unfortunately clashing with Debrah's arrival from London. We needed a goodly amount of plasterboard and a shower base and a toilet and numerous other things for Denis' renovation project.
Gary turned up here just in time to help us move it all up the two flights of stairs and very grateful we were for the assistance. It's been a couple of months since I had to put my back into a bit of manual labour of that sort and I am still feeling the effects a bit.
I took the van back as quickly as possible to cut down on the rental time and hopefully keep the cost to a minimum. I think I succeeded as the total rental cost was a massive €3.90, which was actually less than the cost of the 2kg of strawberries that I bought in the market that morning (€4) - another ridiculously fabulous bargain. I think it had something to do with the just under €500 worth of materials we bought at the same time - which didn't include the toilet we needed because it was out of stock and on order only. Funny then, that when Debrah and I went in to place the order today, we were told that it was in stock - arrived this morning! - sometimes things do fall into place when you need them to.
Saturday morning was a bit of a rush ahead of the materials purchase with one breakfast to sort out and two airport pick-ups and the market shopping to do for the rooms, for us and for the guests dinner on Sunday night. Poor Debrah was left to fend for herself as I rushed off to Tridome - no lazy lunch in the square, no love and attention lavished on her. So she put some soothing classical music on the ipod and pulled the chair up to the sunshine by the window and spent a happy few hours with the newspapers she had bought with her, curled up on the chair like a contented pussycat while the men sweated their way to getting 21 sheets of board up the stairs.
It helped enormously that the weather was just fabulous - well, it helped Debrah, who had just seen rain all week in London. It was far too good to let the chance slip by - so having sorted our guests and despatched them off for a hot march around the Cite for the day - we went off for a Sunday drive out into the countryside and a bit of exploring places anew. We found ourselves in St Chinian just before midday and caught the end of the morning market before finding a shady courtyard full of families and bikers and a simple brasserie lunch - superb it was too.
We emerged to find that the temperature had gone up a good 10 degrees in direct sunlight. Nonetheless we headed home over the mountains, with the roof down, being beaten by the sun and the breeze, being amazed by the beauty of the poppies and violets and primulas covering the meadows and the roadside verges and stunned by the ever changing scenery. What a great drive and a great day out. We even got back in time for me to calmly sort the prep for dinner and for Debrah to have a little after-sun lie down.
Then we had one of our get all the guests around the same table and have dinner with them convivial evenings that seem to be going down so well with our visitors. Keith entertained us with stories of things he had 'found' on site during his career as an electrical contractor and his many house and business deals and the day that 'they opened the case and it had a sawn-off shotgun in it'!. He and his lovely wife have a house in Southern Spain - enough said really - but a great evening and very very entertaining - they can come back anytime.
More of the same over the next few weeks please.
Chris and I had a bit of help from Gary on Saturday afternoon. We had tried to organise the self-drive rental of the Tridome van during the week but Saturday afternoon was the only time available, unfortunately clashing with Debrah's arrival from London. We needed a goodly amount of plasterboard and a shower base and a toilet and numerous other things for Denis' renovation project.
Gary turned up here just in time to help us move it all up the two flights of stairs and very grateful we were for the assistance. It's been a couple of months since I had to put my back into a bit of manual labour of that sort and I am still feeling the effects a bit.
I took the van back as quickly as possible to cut down on the rental time and hopefully keep the cost to a minimum. I think I succeeded as the total rental cost was a massive €3.90, which was actually less than the cost of the 2kg of strawberries that I bought in the market that morning (€4) - another ridiculously fabulous bargain. I think it had something to do with the just under €500 worth of materials we bought at the same time - which didn't include the toilet we needed because it was out of stock and on order only. Funny then, that when Debrah and I went in to place the order today, we were told that it was in stock - arrived this morning! - sometimes things do fall into place when you need them to.
Saturday morning was a bit of a rush ahead of the materials purchase with one breakfast to sort out and two airport pick-ups and the market shopping to do for the rooms, for us and for the guests dinner on Sunday night. Poor Debrah was left to fend for herself as I rushed off to Tridome - no lazy lunch in the square, no love and attention lavished on her. So she put some soothing classical music on the ipod and pulled the chair up to the sunshine by the window and spent a happy few hours with the newspapers she had bought with her, curled up on the chair like a contented pussycat while the men sweated their way to getting 21 sheets of board up the stairs.
It helped enormously that the weather was just fabulous - well, it helped Debrah, who had just seen rain all week in London. It was far too good to let the chance slip by - so having sorted our guests and despatched them off for a hot march around the Cite for the day - we went off for a Sunday drive out into the countryside and a bit of exploring places anew. We found ourselves in St Chinian just before midday and caught the end of the morning market before finding a shady courtyard full of families and bikers and a simple brasserie lunch - superb it was too.
We emerged to find that the temperature had gone up a good 10 degrees in direct sunlight. Nonetheless we headed home over the mountains, with the roof down, being beaten by the sun and the breeze, being amazed by the beauty of the poppies and violets and primulas covering the meadows and the roadside verges and stunned by the ever changing scenery. What a great drive and a great day out. We even got back in time for me to calmly sort the prep for dinner and for Debrah to have a little after-sun lie down.
Then we had one of our get all the guests around the same table and have dinner with them convivial evenings that seem to be going down so well with our visitors. Keith entertained us with stories of things he had 'found' on site during his career as an electrical contractor and his many house and business deals and the day that 'they opened the case and it had a sawn-off shotgun in it'!. He and his lovely wife have a house in Southern Spain - enough said really - but a great evening and very very entertaining - they can come back anytime.
More of the same over the next few weeks please.
Friday, 2 May 2008
Reality check
Chris has had a bit of a reality check. After four years of living in fabulous accomodation that he helped build - firstly at Anna's chateau near St Emilion and latterly here, Chris has moved into a standard French rental apartment - and I don't think he was prepared for how basic it is, or the fact that there is, for the moment, no fridge, no cooking facilities and no shower curtain. The three flights of stairs to get to it aren't funny either. It does have a fabulous view over the square and across the rooftops, but that must be a small compensation.
So I cooked for him last night and then we wandered up to the Makhila bar for a quiet drink and then it all got a bit out of hand. As ever with such nights, it wasn't intended but it happened and today was very hard work as a result.
I jumped up early and went out for a ride on my bike, something I had been planning to do for a while. I soon realised what a mistake that was - after nearly coming of it three times I decided I would either end up in the river or on the bonnet of a car and beat a hasty retreat. Which was a shame as this was the first morning for a while that I didn't have to prepare breakfast for anyone but myself.
Yesterday was a bank holiday in France and, naturally, most people have made it into a four day weekend by not bothering with Friday as well. So imagine my surprise on Wednesday evening when my French bank called me at 5.55pm to check some details on a transfer that I had requested - nobody in France, unless self-employed, is still at work at five to six and still actively working, especially the day before the workers holiday! So, well done Credit Agricole Britline - it is the britline tag that gives it away - clearly they have to work 12 hour days with no paid overtime to make them feel at home.
The laid back doctor and his garden designer wife left on Wednesday, having thoroughly enjoyed themselves here I think, and then the two lovely Belgian boys turned up for a couple of nights B&B. They thought La Cite was terribly commercial and a bit vulgar so went off to Cap D'Agde on the coast to chase the boys - which from my standpoint is pretty vulgar in itself - tarts! One of them opened the door to me when I was delivering their breakfast tray dressed in the most inappropriate shorts I could imagine, but they left a lovely, if somewhat over-dramatic, message in our visitors book - 'they say perfection is boring - luckily it rained while we were here' - puhleese - guys, get a grip (if that's the right thing to say). I know Debrah is absolutely gutted that she missed them.
I picked up two new guests today, from Surrey, and we have two people coming from Shannon tomorrow - so another busy weekend in store - which of course is excellent and just what is supposed to be happening.
I'm very much looking forward to Debrah coming out tomorrow too - it's only been five days but it feels much much longer than that since I saw her.
So I cooked for him last night and then we wandered up to the Makhila bar for a quiet drink and then it all got a bit out of hand. As ever with such nights, it wasn't intended but it happened and today was very hard work as a result.
I jumped up early and went out for a ride on my bike, something I had been planning to do for a while. I soon realised what a mistake that was - after nearly coming of it three times I decided I would either end up in the river or on the bonnet of a car and beat a hasty retreat. Which was a shame as this was the first morning for a while that I didn't have to prepare breakfast for anyone but myself.
Yesterday was a bank holiday in France and, naturally, most people have made it into a four day weekend by not bothering with Friday as well. So imagine my surprise on Wednesday evening when my French bank called me at 5.55pm to check some details on a transfer that I had requested - nobody in France, unless self-employed, is still at work at five to six and still actively working, especially the day before the workers holiday! So, well done Credit Agricole Britline - it is the britline tag that gives it away - clearly they have to work 12 hour days with no paid overtime to make them feel at home.
The laid back doctor and his garden designer wife left on Wednesday, having thoroughly enjoyed themselves here I think, and then the two lovely Belgian boys turned up for a couple of nights B&B. They thought La Cite was terribly commercial and a bit vulgar so went off to Cap D'Agde on the coast to chase the boys - which from my standpoint is pretty vulgar in itself - tarts! One of them opened the door to me when I was delivering their breakfast tray dressed in the most inappropriate shorts I could imagine, but they left a lovely, if somewhat over-dramatic, message in our visitors book - 'they say perfection is boring - luckily it rained while we were here' - puhleese - guys, get a grip (if that's the right thing to say). I know Debrah is absolutely gutted that she missed them.
I picked up two new guests today, from Surrey, and we have two people coming from Shannon tomorrow - so another busy weekend in store - which of course is excellent and just what is supposed to be happening.
I'm very much looking forward to Debrah coming out tomorrow too - it's only been five days but it feels much much longer than that since I saw her.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
