A drama but not a crisis

There is a steep staircase and a very low beam at the top of the staircase in our Studio suite. I always point it out to new arrivals and ask them to take care. Even so we have had the odd slight knock and "I won't do that again" comment, but I guess I always knew that one day someone would really bang their head on it - so it was today.

My new guests arrived yesterday afternoon and seemed very excited and very jolly - if I have to describe them then she is five months pregnant and he is from New Zealand - another first for 42rvh.

When I knocked on their door this morning, with their breakfast tray in hand, I heard the sound of someone jumping out of bed on the mezzanine followed by an almighty thud, a pause, a very large groan, someone running down the stairs, someone trying to open the locked door, another groan, an apology, another pause, then the key in the lock and finally the door opening.

The door was opened by my NZ guest clutching a bloody tissue to his forehead and the words "Mind the blood on the floor"!

Naturally, I asked if he was alright and if there was anything I could do but he insisted he was absolutely fine. Five minutes later she knocked on my door and said that she thought he needed to see a doctor. I don't have a doctor here in France, but I do have a fully qualified nurse living upstairs, which is handy, and Brigitte very kindly came down immediately, when asked, with the biggest home first aid kit I have ever seen - "Je suis une professionelle", she responded when I asked about it.

It was in fact all something and nothing - he felt much better once a 'professional' nurse had cooed over him with an antiseptic swab and a soothing "Ce n'est pas grave". She felt a bit embarrassed for having bothered Brigitte about it - if he didn't have a headache after banging his head he will have done after she given him what for all day for over-acting, and I got on with clearing up the little bit of mess on the tiled floor - at least he had the good grace not to bleed on the carpet, which is to his credit.

Brigitte had previously asked my help with replacing the lock on her 'cave' (cellar) door by playing the role of helpless female when it comes to anything to do with a screwdriver - which I don't believe for one minute. It was a very simple job which took me five minutes, or an hour if you include measuring the existing lock and going to the DIY store to get the new one. No matter because I wanted her to do something for me as well so it was a good quid pro quo.

The studio apartment next to Brigitte's on the floor above is for sale and Debrah and I have been talking about whether we should try to buy it - and we think we should. So it was that I asked Brigitte, as newly elected President of our co-operative and obviously a fluent French speaker to contact the owner to start the process of viewing and negotiation. If we can get him to come down on his price a bit then we might have a deal in the making.

This evening I popped down to a bar in the square, Cité des Aromes, that was staging a 'vernissage' or viewing of a new exhibition of paintings. This being the south of France and heavily influenced by all things Spanish, the paintings were all of bulls and bullfighting. Yannick, Lesa's partner at the estate agents office, bemoaned the lack of naked women in local painting - "just bulls", he said.

Having looked at the paintings, I couldn't have agreed more.