Chapter 3 (PIFIFF)

When we first arrived at La Feuillade we refered to it as Paradise (tongue in cheek). The land was beautiful and bountifiul ; what with walnuts, sweet chestnuts, puff balls a plenty (there is a very scrotal theme going on here!) and recently, more Kiwis than you will find in Auckland (more of this later). But as we all know Paradise is never what it at first seems.

Last week I visited a place alien to those with scrotae. A place with Cilit Bang (something to be found on a dutch prostitutes menu perhaps, main course of course), limescale remover, scrubbies, and Vanish. I ventured under the sink. Why I hear ask do you go there? That is not a place for men.

As you know we are metered for water here and being frugal, having a leaking tap under the sink is not good sense, financially.

Having played Monsiuer Le Plomberie back in the UK on many times. I thought 'Pas de Problem' .

Error.

Cue PIFIFF (" Plumbing in France is Fucking Frustrating"). I grabbed my circular pipe cutter, and the leaky tap, after a little resistence was excised from its moist location. Victory is mine. But no. The Frenchie's plumbing doesn't fight fair. The inlet was 20mm, the outlet was 22mm. I had heard rumour of these different sizes but had paid no heed. After all, we all know, size isn't important.

Three hours later, 50 miles plus and having visited 4 different outlets I returned home with a 20/22mm connexion and appropiate other bits.During these three hours I saw many a shrug of Gallic shoulders, accompanied by the utterance 'Desole',or ' Quel dommage' and learnt that 20mm is no longer available.It is only found in old houses. Very helpful/useful. But finally (with help of Batiland* a DIY outlet not a country for homosexuals) I can see and end in sight to this unecessary water loss. But how naive I was.The 20mm pipe continued to drip. Mocking me with its wettness. To solder copper pipe it has to be dry.

Eventually I conceded defeat.

Call for Yannik. ( he cleaned my stack 2 days earlier).

Much to our surprise he appeared a mere 1/2 hour later. A French Chevalier in his gleaming white van.

After explaining the problem he disappeared behind my boiler, unconnected a pipe and blew out the offending l'eau.

I showed him my presoldered connectors and my compression joints. We took it in turns,and he showed me how to do it properley ( copper connectors and manually applied solder)

We shared a special moment when finally we were plumbed and sec. A cup of coffee and he was gone, in to the night.

But it wasn't over yet.

It leaked.I couldn't call him back. It was one of my joints which oozed.

So after flooding the kitchen, drenching the back of the boiler and the Chrissie decs, and eventually applying a touch more solder and heat to the offending joint, I claimed victory.

But as some geezer said somewhere ' The battle may be won but the war is not over'. I fear that the spectre that is French plumbing will return, stronger and more frustrating.But this time I have Yannik's number to call, and call it, I will. For as we all know life is too short to be spending time blowing old French plumbing behind one's German boiler.

Now, those Kiwis I mentioned earlier.

We have a glut. We have more taut testicles than a knackers yard. Kiwi fruit when not ripe are very firm, brown and hairy.

Ma has told me how to make them soft. But I have no recipes for Kiwi jam? Kiwi vodka? Kiwi jelly? Kiwi soap?

Aidez moi SVP.





* : Bati is caribbean slang for gay

Chapter 2 (En Vacance)

It's Wednesday morning, the fair one lies dormant upstairs, the enfants terribles are gently squabbling next door, nothing changes.

Well that is not quite strictly true. If you happened to be a tired old sweetchestnut tree you wouldn't be feeling so smug this morning.As you lie in a crumpled mass of rotting stump in the detritus of your fallen leaves.It was dead already, a health hazard and it was asking for it.

Yesterday my new petrol driven chainsaw went hunting. No longer the apron strings of electricity to tie me to plugs of the maison. This thing has teeth and it was hungry. The branches and stumps which previously mocked me with their immunity to the chainsaw soon fell to the awesome power that is my Stihl M250 BC-S. I need to get out more!! ....And so I did.

Back to our front of house. For those of you ignorant of what I am a wittering, at the front we have a stone wall topped with a nice french grille with intermittent pillars. Previously enshrouded in ivy, brambles, and wild honeysuckle. But no more. The snip, snip of our seccateurs and lopers have ensured the demise of the aforementioned shroud. And Sonia armed with her roller and paintbrushes have turned this in to a wonder to behold. Certainly our voisins appreciate what we are up to, and frequently pop over to cheer us on with such rousing phrases as : 'Bon courage' and Beaucoup travaille'. However we get the feeling it is a good thing as we are also informed the house can now breathe and it looks fantastique.

Sunday night was memorable. As a special treat we decided to have a nice relaxing fire ( this time indoors) and have toasted marsmallows ( personally I can't stand them, but I am too old). Felix and I set the fire, and soon a real blaze ensued.. Unfortunately the blaze went up the stack and soon we had embers flying out the top of the chimney and falling back down and spilling on to our wooden floorboards.A stack fire : not good. First throw loads of water on your fire to put it out. Second get sodden blanket and seal off fire place ( cuts off oxygen supply and puts out fire).Three remain anxious, stay up late regularily checking that the temperature of your stack in the attic is coming down and that the fire has not reignited. We are now going to get it swept before we have toasted marshmallows again.

But frrom adversity often comes a bonus ball. Having spent a fair amount of time in the attic groping my stack. I happened to stumble across a rather fetching 60's retro three globbed light,which, with a bit of TLC looks F**cking fab. At the same time a collection of old lead fish hooks. life is so rich in the attic of adversity.

Sonia's quest for beautiful shutters is continuing at pace and now the gite has two sets in a beautiful bluey/grey. The shutters have proved a source for disharmony. The sleeping one wanted to replace the lot, the tight arsed one wanted to repair them as best as possible. However ACAS was in the area and the shutters are bodged and we will will get new windows.

Ellie is missing her friends but despite this seems happy. Rosie her rabbit regularly empties her bladder on both Ellie and Felix which is a source of much amusement and laundry. Today Ellie is going to her Folkloric dancing class. Today it is tres exciting coz she is being measured up for her costume. Both Felix and Ellie are slowly picking the lingo up and have friends at school.

Last weekend they had a sleepover. An english boy called Franklin came over and they played camps up by the wood. Never have I heard such peace in the back garden, or was it just that they were too far away?

Question: What do you do with your left over bagettes the morning after?
Answer: Make your French version of fried bread this time in freshly made duck fat.

You can buy kilos of duck fatty off cuts then heat them over a low heat for 2-3 hours and siphon off the melted fat and voila.

Anyway here ends today's written version of la verbal diarrhea

A Bientot

Chapter 1 (And so it begins!)

Morning to you all,

Today is Sunday. The sun is shining, Felix is hanging off my arm as I try to type you this note.

Today in store we have a Vide Grenier (boot fair to you) in our village. Bargains maybe. Last week we went to one and bought a cast iron bed in need of attention for £55.As if we don't have enough to do at present.
But not only is there a bootfair we have games for the kids in the school playground. A ballon competion and organised mayhem.And Petanque. What more could you possibly want want on a Sunday? Oh yes and fireworks.Which have the same safety qualities as those fabricated in India.

Our friends the Claridges left yesterday morning after a week of hard labour. They chainsawed, chopped, shredded, stripped, raked, cleared roofs and walls of pernious ivy and cooked and even entertained us?
We had the most enormous bonfire which is still going 6 days after it started.The excuse for a boat (it has more holes than my underpants) was placed in the L'Isle and duly filled with the rivers contents. It was emptied yesterday and duly refilled. Apparrently the wood needs to swell to seal the gaps. I have not gone down to examine for the latest. A job for later.

Food: Having visitors is tantamount to gastric cruelty. Foie Gras, Cassoulet, Multi Meat roast (duck, chicken, rabbit (wrapped in panceta), pigeon, saucisson,and not forgetting the roast potatoes cooked in goose fat) has resulted in a considerable increase in the utilisation of the salle de bain.Water is metered here so it could be costly.

Yesterday was round one of St Front's fete. So down to the school yard to assemble with around 30 other children all dressed as witches, pumpkins, skeletons and other suitably scary persons.Ellie won the most witchy prize and received a certificate to that effect. We did not know about the pumpkin growing competion so could not even enter. Next year. We will show them how to really grow a citrouille.

Then the treasurer of the local Amicale ( cross between round table and rotary club and madhouse) also dressed as a witch led the kids a la pied piper around the village to declare ' On veux les bon bons'.
In course terrified old ladies would emerge cluthching bags of sweets to ward off the swarm of enfants terribles.

Felix and Ellie unfortunately have now been introduced to the charms of bumper cars. But the sight of the pair of them, their eyes glazed with a certain mad glee and terror was a vision to behold.Especially as Ellie was face painted a certain post retro semi-decomposed green.Enchanting NOT.

All of this was a gentle distratction to memories that yesterday inevitably holds. Today is a new day.

So A Bientot