I hope just to tell the story of moving from provincial England to very rural France. I'm not going to be doing too much navel gazing, just giving you a narrative on what happens and hopefully make you laugh at our antics/stupididty every now and then. If this inspires anyone to move over there, that would make me very happy (Just after I'd eaten my hat).

Monday, 21 May 2012

Nous Somme Arrivés

Well here we are, we've arrived in France and house in the UK is due to sell any day now (the point of no return, so to speak).  It’s all a bit chaotic, and flying by, so far so just a few bits and pieces here, possibly a better written and more cohesive entry will follow shortly!

The big house (there are 2 on the property, the other one we imaginatively call the little house) is coming along well, totally unrecognisable from two years ago when we first saw it.  It fights us tooth and nail to remain as it is with every simple DIY task taking 2 or 3 times longer than you would expect due to years of abuse from previous owners, I mean why use the supplied fixings to put blinds on windows when a blob of super glue does the job so quickly?  Changing things like blinds then becomes a far trickier job than advertised.

I seem to remember referring to our 18 month old as having premature terrible twos in my first post, well perhaps she thinks she should be living up to it. I had no idea how prophetic those words would turn out to be.  If anything fails to go her way at the moment she has decided that spitting on the floor will get her the reaction she is after.  Where exactly this new fad came from, neither Competitive Wife nor I are able to fathom.

Last week one of the local British imports of Prop Forward physique, asked me if I could help him unload a lorry bringing his sheds from the UK over here.  I said I'd be delighted but had little idea (nor, I think, did he) that it would take six men a full (and full on) 3 hours to unload.  At time of writing I'm rather sore.  Myself, Prop Forward, Local Service, Grumpy Welshman, the driver and a local plumber/electrician with 40 cats (40 cat man) managed to shift the equivalent of a small copse of trees from the back of the lorry and in doing so consumed (between us) 1 cup of tea, 2 Oranginas, 12 cans of strong lager, 5 shots of whiskey and a Pastis.  Apparently nothing can be done around here without offering an alcoholic drink afterwards or in this case during.  Grumpy Welshman was on particularly good form, turning up in a hi-vis vest and making sure the traffic got past the lorry safely, I'm sure both cyclists made it home all the more safely as a result.

That's all for now.
 





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