Today it was the turn of the winemakers and the farmers to have a protest. This afternoon half of Carcassonne was restricted by road closures and parking restrictions, there were police on every street corner and there was a mass demonstration that brought the town to a halt for an hour or so. Songs of solidarity were sung, speeches were made, fire-crackers were set off and some idiot set fire to a waste bin - there is always at least one isn't there? - which could have been just the excuse the gendarmes were looking for to wade in with their batons.
Fortunately, the crowd was very good natured and, the little bit that I saw of it, passed off without trouble. I guess the police were right to be prepared though - I have heard stories of dynamite thrown at Government offices and pitched street battles in the past. The Prefecture and other official buildings weren't taking any chances today and they all closed at lunchtime just in case they came under attack.
I tried to work out from the newspaper what their complaints were and even with the help of my English/French dictionary I'm still not fully clear. They want a reduction in the local tax they pay - the taxe fonciere - but I'm not sure on what basis or why they should be a special case, they want some guaranteed payment up front of 15% of something and finally they are all moaning about the price of fuel, which isn't at all original as everyone in the world is moaning about the price of fuel. As long as they keep making wine, everything will be alright.
As a result of the demo, we Bastide dwellers were confined to town for a couple of hours because all the roads were closed and Chris and I had to wait until early evening before we could make our weekly trip to the industrial zones for materials and tools and the hunt from shop to store for someone who had some goods actually in stock. Remarkably, we got everything we were looking for and only had to visit two stores.
Back at 42rvh it's quite quiet this week - which is good after a couple of manic weeks - although I must admit that I quite enjoy the full-on nature of guests and changeovers and am feeling a little lost with time on my hands. I'm also feeling a bit lost and lonely because Debrah went back to London yesterday.
I should enjoy the calm whilst I can because from the middle of next week we are pretty much fully booked until the end of the month, which is fantastic and amazing. I had a call yesterday from a Brit in Uganda who wants to come here in July for his wedding anniversary because he was so impressed with our reviews on tripadvisor and then the photographs on our website. I still can't quite believe how well it has gone so far.
Meanwhile, there is a big test of my new found dedication to the service industry looming on the horizon - it's called Euro 2008. I will, as always, be desperate to watch every game - which means I am seriously considering cooking lunches instead of dinners and stealing back the big telly from the Studio.
And in the absence of the overpaid and badly coached England team, the eternally unlucky Scots and Irish and the plain useless Welsh, I will have to pin my colours to someone else's mast. It should be a straightforward case of "Allez les Bleus", but this is border territory and I might just be shouting "Viva Espana" instead. All of which, inevitably means the Germans will probably win. I shall enjoy finding out anyway - guests permitting, of course.
Showing posts with label french strikes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label french strikes. Show all posts
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Wednesday, 28 November 2007
Crikey
After four interesting and varied and tiring and valuable days in London, I returned to Carcassonne today. I had arrived in London with a heavy cold and left with the after effects still in evidence.
As a result, Saturday was a bit of a write-off as I spent all day in bed or on the sofa watching telly or reading the papers and generally 'getting better' - not a total write-off as I predicted a Bolton win over Man U which duly followed.
On Sunday I dragged myself out in the middle of the day for a pub lunch with my Mother-in-law and my just turned eighteen year old stepson. Christian bought a legitimate round of drinks and then had to 'borrow' ten quid for the rest of the day - not quite self-sufficient but then who is so I don't hold that against him.
On Monday I was at work all day but managed to fit a haircut in and on Tuesday I was at work all day and didn't finish until 9.30pm which was a bit of a long one but not unexpected.
And so it was that I returned to a sunny France but a cold apartment and to the news of riots instead of strikes (I somehow missed the baton change from unions to youths over the weekend) I still don't understand the obsession with torching cars and libraries - bunch of pyromaniacs - it must be the French equivalent of Guy Fawkes - "giv us a euro an I won't burn ya mota"
The big big news, however, was that we had our very first genuine enquiry about booking the Apartment. Oh bloody hell - that means that people mighty actually come and we might actually have to put the theory into practice. If only we were ready! Still, it's only an enquiry as yet - best not to get carried away, but I better look again at that long list of things we still haven't done and get on with them - no pressure then.
Yeesss, Nnoooooo, Yes.
Sorted.
As a result, Saturday was a bit of a write-off as I spent all day in bed or on the sofa watching telly or reading the papers and generally 'getting better' - not a total write-off as I predicted a Bolton win over Man U which duly followed.
On Sunday I dragged myself out in the middle of the day for a pub lunch with my Mother-in-law and my just turned eighteen year old stepson. Christian bought a legitimate round of drinks and then had to 'borrow' ten quid for the rest of the day - not quite self-sufficient but then who is so I don't hold that against him.
On Monday I was at work all day but managed to fit a haircut in and on Tuesday I was at work all day and didn't finish until 9.30pm which was a bit of a long one but not unexpected.
And so it was that I returned to a sunny France but a cold apartment and to the news of riots instead of strikes (I somehow missed the baton change from unions to youths over the weekend) I still don't understand the obsession with torching cars and libraries - bunch of pyromaniacs - it must be the French equivalent of Guy Fawkes - "giv us a euro an I won't burn ya mota"
The big big news, however, was that we had our very first genuine enquiry about booking the Apartment. Oh bloody hell - that means that people mighty actually come and we might actually have to put the theory into practice. If only we were ready! Still, it's only an enquiry as yet - best not to get carried away, but I better look again at that long list of things we still haven't done and get on with them - no pressure then.
Yeesss, Nnoooooo, Yes.
Sorted.
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
Reality Check
I slept longer than I had planned and woke up a bit late this morning. I guess with Chris having gone, sub-consciously I knew I didn't have to be up and ready for anyone else.
Chris clearly made the right decision to drive to Paris. Overnight, some militant strikers sabotaged a large part of the TGV network. Personally, I don't think it was a very shrewd move - the country has been struggling to get to work for six days and negotiations between Government and Unions were due to start this morning - if they wanted to turn public opinion against them they couldn't have done a better job - talk about shooting yourself in the foot. Anyway, I had a text from Chris to say he was boarding his plane, which was good news.
After yesterday's slightly heady bit of euphoria, the reality of everything still to be done - by me, on my own, between now and Christmas - hit home today. I think I said no more sanding, but when I looked a bit closer at the office ceiling before under-coating could commence, I realised that it needed a bit of work on it before it looked even reasonable. So, there I was stood on a scaffold, sanding plaster above my head once again, realising that it was just me in this vast apartment and while this bit of plaster was being sanded, nothing else was being done - which was a bit deflating to be honest.
But it got done, and the under-coating of the office ceiling and walls and all the new door frames and skirtings that were fitted yesterday also got done. Actually I think I could do with a day off but I'll push on through one more day of work here before I go back to London on Friday - then I can have a weekend to relax with Debrah which will be wonderful.
On a different tack altogether, when I took some more rubbish out to bins earlier on, I noticed that the starlings are back - not in such great numbers but definitely there doing their dusk time swooping and swirling. So much for false falcon noises and rockets - seems like they just moved somewhere else for a week and then came back. Oh well, another unsuccessful French campaign.
I love France and the French and their ideosyncratic ways but it does amaze me how they have survived as a nation - not since Napoleon marched all over Europe have they really had anything to shout about (and he was a Corsican). You might think I'm stretching the point a bit but I'll happily argue it. For years the TGV and French railway system has been held up as a model of efficiency and wonder, but the truth is you can only use it when the drivers decide you can and successive French governments have ignored the fact that they can't afford to pay for it so continue to put the country further into debt.
It will be interesting to see if President Sarkozy can introduce the same reality check on France that I experienced today in my apartment.
Chris clearly made the right decision to drive to Paris. Overnight, some militant strikers sabotaged a large part of the TGV network. Personally, I don't think it was a very shrewd move - the country has been struggling to get to work for six days and negotiations between Government and Unions were due to start this morning - if they wanted to turn public opinion against them they couldn't have done a better job - talk about shooting yourself in the foot. Anyway, I had a text from Chris to say he was boarding his plane, which was good news.
After yesterday's slightly heady bit of euphoria, the reality of everything still to be done - by me, on my own, between now and Christmas - hit home today. I think I said no more sanding, but when I looked a bit closer at the office ceiling before under-coating could commence, I realised that it needed a bit of work on it before it looked even reasonable. So, there I was stood on a scaffold, sanding plaster above my head once again, realising that it was just me in this vast apartment and while this bit of plaster was being sanded, nothing else was being done - which was a bit deflating to be honest.
But it got done, and the under-coating of the office ceiling and walls and all the new door frames and skirtings that were fitted yesterday also got done. Actually I think I could do with a day off but I'll push on through one more day of work here before I go back to London on Friday - then I can have a weekend to relax with Debrah which will be wonderful.
On a different tack altogether, when I took some more rubbish out to bins earlier on, I noticed that the starlings are back - not in such great numbers but definitely there doing their dusk time swooping and swirling. So much for false falcon noises and rockets - seems like they just moved somewhere else for a week and then came back. Oh well, another unsuccessful French campaign.
I love France and the French and their ideosyncratic ways but it does amaze me how they have survived as a nation - not since Napoleon marched all over Europe have they really had anything to shout about (and he was a Corsican). You might think I'm stretching the point a bit but I'll happily argue it. For years the TGV and French railway system has been held up as a model of efficiency and wonder, but the truth is you can only use it when the drivers decide you can and successive French governments have ignored the fact that they can't afford to pay for it so continue to put the country further into debt.
It will be interesting to see if President Sarkozy can introduce the same reality check on France that I experienced today in my apartment.
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
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.
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.
Monday, 19 November 2007
Nearly There
What a week it has been.
When I returned to France and found out that Chris had booked a trip to the States - not for the two weeks we had discussed, but for four weeks up to the 19th December - it took me a day or so to work out the full implications of the work still to be done and the work that would be needed to be done when he came back. When the subject was raised, I thought for a while that we were about to fall out about it, but we didn't, and Chris understood my concerns about the timing so fully that the last week has been the most intense period of work we have undertaken here.
We have just finished eight days in a row working an average of twelve hours a day - Chris cramming into that period two bathroom fits, one kitchen fit, some shelving, a lot of tiling, two door frames and a host of general electrics and other work and me painting rooms as he went along to enable final finishing as well as general rubbish clearance, materials buying, work for a critical stage of product development in London and, very importantly, making coffee at a very constant rate all through the day.
At this very moment, late on a Monday evening, I can honestly say we are both very proud of what we have achieved in the last week and are both totally knackered. Chris is probably a bit worse for wear than I am because he has done more of the work - but as he rightly pointed out, I am paying him to do it and he will be sat on his arse for a while in the States whilst I still have a massive amount of painting to do between now and Christmas. Oh joy.
It is so difficult to put into words the genuine excitement I am feeling - the end really is in sight. Every day sees another completed bit of work, another sink in place, another wall painted, another room nearly done. I have now packed up the tile cutters and moved them into the cellar for storage - there is no more tiling or tile cutting to be done (the neighbours will be pleased - actually one of my neighbours moved out this weekend and I did speculate if she had had enough of the noise from downstairs and how ironic it was that she moved on the day the tiling was complete) .
All the old offcut tiles have been thrown out as well as a host of other stuff that we have been hanging onto 'just in case' it might be needed. Even now, I am still deliberating between putting odd bits of plasterboard or chipboard in the cellar or the bin. Put them in the bin for God's sake.
I still have a couple of tonnes of rubble down in the disused room on the ground floor, which nobody has complained about so far but is probably only a matter of time. I decided today, whilst in rubbish removal mode, to take a few bits out and so deposited a toilet and a couple of bags of concrete in the local bins this afternoon. I figure that a couple of bags a day should get rid of it in about six months, give or take.
Earlier on this evening, the doorbell rang and I was faced with two guys wearing flourescent yellow coats with the SITA logo emblazoned across the front and back. SITA is the local sub-contracted rubbish removal / dustmen company who do a fabulous job of emptying the bins three times a day seven days a week. I prepared myself for a question about broken tiles, plaster or rogue toilets - but actually just got a request for the Christmas fund. When they discovered I was English they turned tail and fled which was a shame, because if there is any group of workers in France who deserve a Christmas tip from me it is they, for they have hauled an awful lot of my building crap away over the year and nothing seems to faze them - I must try harder!
Naturally, life would not be complete without some last minute crises to keep everyone on their toes. Late on Saturday I had to dash to the specialist tile shop for another bag of tile adhesive which I managed with about five minutes to spare and late this afternoon I had to dash to the DIY store for some more grout for said tiles, which I also managed through the rush hour (rush 20 minutes) traffic.
And, Chris is due to leave tomorrow evening on a train to Paris to pick up his flight to the US. Which is all well and good, except that the 'lazy French fuckers' (my wife's description) who operate the French railway have been on strike for 5 days and show no signs of getting back to work anytime soon - and all because they think it is reasonable to retain the right to retire on full pay at age 50. Ahh - this is France - if they had got wind of our working hours over the last week there would probably be a protest outside the appartment demanding that we slow down a bit and stop for lunch.
Oh well, what will happen tomorrow - Chris has a last few jobs to finish - he may or may not get his train to Paris and therefore his flight to the US - he may have to hire a car and drive - who knows. It will probably all work out in the end - it usually does.
Nearly there.
When I returned to France and found out that Chris had booked a trip to the States - not for the two weeks we had discussed, but for four weeks up to the 19th December - it took me a day or so to work out the full implications of the work still to be done and the work that would be needed to be done when he came back. When the subject was raised, I thought for a while that we were about to fall out about it, but we didn't, and Chris understood my concerns about the timing so fully that the last week has been the most intense period of work we have undertaken here.
We have just finished eight days in a row working an average of twelve hours a day - Chris cramming into that period two bathroom fits, one kitchen fit, some shelving, a lot of tiling, two door frames and a host of general electrics and other work and me painting rooms as he went along to enable final finishing as well as general rubbish clearance, materials buying, work for a critical stage of product development in London and, very importantly, making coffee at a very constant rate all through the day.
At this very moment, late on a Monday evening, I can honestly say we are both very proud of what we have achieved in the last week and are both totally knackered. Chris is probably a bit worse for wear than I am because he has done more of the work - but as he rightly pointed out, I am paying him to do it and he will be sat on his arse for a while in the States whilst I still have a massive amount of painting to do between now and Christmas. Oh joy.
It is so difficult to put into words the genuine excitement I am feeling - the end really is in sight. Every day sees another completed bit of work, another sink in place, another wall painted, another room nearly done. I have now packed up the tile cutters and moved them into the cellar for storage - there is no more tiling or tile cutting to be done (the neighbours will be pleased - actually one of my neighbours moved out this weekend and I did speculate if she had had enough of the noise from downstairs and how ironic it was that she moved on the day the tiling was complete) .
All the old offcut tiles have been thrown out as well as a host of other stuff that we have been hanging onto 'just in case' it might be needed. Even now, I am still deliberating between putting odd bits of plasterboard or chipboard in the cellar or the bin. Put them in the bin for God's sake.
I still have a couple of tonnes of rubble down in the disused room on the ground floor, which nobody has complained about so far but is probably only a matter of time. I decided today, whilst in rubbish removal mode, to take a few bits out and so deposited a toilet and a couple of bags of concrete in the local bins this afternoon. I figure that a couple of bags a day should get rid of it in about six months, give or take.
Earlier on this evening, the doorbell rang and I was faced with two guys wearing flourescent yellow coats with the SITA logo emblazoned across the front and back. SITA is the local sub-contracted rubbish removal / dustmen company who do a fabulous job of emptying the bins three times a day seven days a week. I prepared myself for a question about broken tiles, plaster or rogue toilets - but actually just got a request for the Christmas fund. When they discovered I was English they turned tail and fled which was a shame, because if there is any group of workers in France who deserve a Christmas tip from me it is they, for they have hauled an awful lot of my building crap away over the year and nothing seems to faze them - I must try harder!
Naturally, life would not be complete without some last minute crises to keep everyone on their toes. Late on Saturday I had to dash to the specialist tile shop for another bag of tile adhesive which I managed with about five minutes to spare and late this afternoon I had to dash to the DIY store for some more grout for said tiles, which I also managed through the rush hour (rush 20 minutes) traffic.
And, Chris is due to leave tomorrow evening on a train to Paris to pick up his flight to the US. Which is all well and good, except that the 'lazy French fuckers' (my wife's description) who operate the French railway have been on strike for 5 days and show no signs of getting back to work anytime soon - and all because they think it is reasonable to retain the right to retire on full pay at age 50. Ahh - this is France - if they had got wind of our working hours over the last week there would probably be a protest outside the appartment demanding that we slow down a bit and stop for lunch.
Oh well, what will happen tomorrow - Chris has a last few jobs to finish - he may or may not get his train to Paris and therefore his flight to the US - he may have to hire a car and drive - who knows. It will probably all work out in the end - it usually does.
Nearly there.
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