BZZZZzzzzzzz

It's be a while since I updated this blog, a lot has happened and that's mainly why I haven't!  I'll try to catch up over the next few days and weeks and so fill you in on the various things that have been going on.

Just a recently a swarm of bees decided to take up residence in our garden, they were quite a sight as they form a house sized cloud above our roof buzzing like an armada of mopeds.

They settled in the corner of the garden wall (or the back of Retired Farmers house) about 20 feet up and we thought it a good idea to go and tell him.  In an uncharacteristic flurry of activity he came straight around and insisted that we all went to his house for our safety!  Competitive wife was expecting a visit from a hairdresser so he said it would be fine for her to stay indoors but I and Terrible two's girl really should come over to his and share a bottle of Rose (This is French Health and Safety practice in action) (Terrible two's girl did not share the Rose!).

Reluctantly I went and spent a lovely afternoon in next doors garden at the end of which Retired Farmer promised to be back at 8 that evening (When the bees had gone to bed!) to seal up the entrance as, in his opinion, they were not accessible for the local honey producer to come and collect them.

8pm came and went and we assumed that he had forgotten but a mere 2 hours later he turned up with his mate (one of the many non descript Frenchmen of a certain age who inhabit the village and have a repeating name, Jo-Jo, Ho-Ho, Fon-Fon, Lu-Lu etc, etc [that's not one]).  Clearly they had spent the evening up to that point drinking as Retired farmer staggered in with a ladder and his mate just attempted to push, kick, poke or barrack him at every opportunity.  Armed with paper and mastic he then set about closing up the entrance of the hive and by way of celebration insisted that I join them in his cellar for a bottle of wine.

3 hours later and 30 minutes after his mate had gone home we emerged from his cellar into utter darkness (The village lights were off) whereupon he looked at me and asked who I was!  Laughingly I tried to respond by shining the light from my phone on my face whereupon he fell flat on his arse.  Once I'd located him I helped him to his door where he once again asked me who I was and why did I have a bottle of his Vin d'Epine (which he'd given me an hour earlier as a gift) under my arm.  I replied as best I could and went home.

The next day the bees were free again and that evening Retired Farmer turned up with his son and a can of expanding foam!  I'm no bee expert but I didn't rate the chances of this plan working all that highly and funnily enough the next day the bees were free once more.  On the 3rd evening he turned up with a local builder and a pot full of plaster!

At the time of writing the bees are yet again free.

Mountain bike trials.

It's been quite a while since my last update but frankly nothing's happened! We’re still waiting for the house to sell and the move to happen. Best guess; it's still a few weeks away but in the mean time this little tit-bit...

One of our trips to France last year coincided with a mountain bike trial taking place in our village. It's quite a big deal apparently, a national level event where riders race over an insanely dangerous course which passed by the front of our house.

On the day we were visiting Grumpy Welshman (5 mins walk across the village) and, when the little one got tired, we made our way home to put her to bed.  Arriving at our house we found the way cordoned off and various neighbours chatting with course marshals in the road.  Retired Farmer from next door insisted that we hang on as the riders were due past in 5 minutes.

After 20 minutes of waiting and desperately trying to keep the little one happy we found that the only way she would calm down was to be put down on the road where she could play with stones and in the mud.  Wife came up with the genius idea of getting everyone a glass of wine which left us in the bizarre situation of sharing wine in a country road with strange Frenchmen and the baby sitting down playing on the tarmac and occasionally attempting to crawl off into the path of passing mountain bikes!

Standard day in village life I guess! :)

Welcome to the village.

One of my early trips to the houses was a week of intensive cleaning and painting of the little house.  I came on my own without knowing anyone in the village and with rather a single minded objective that would never withstand events in the village!

On about my third afternoon 3 gentleman approached the house and introduced themselves as the retired farmer from next door, "Local Service" (See below) and a grumpy Welshman (GW) who could do some translating for me (My French is probably better that school boy but not a lot) especially for Local Service (LS) as he speaks a local Patois which is barely French.

It was explained to me that as a welcome to the village I was to be taken into Retired Farmer's (RF) cellar. Once safely ensconced there I was thankfully served alcohol and none of the other things which came to mind. Drinks (Given this was mid-afternoon) included with wine (2 bottles), pineau (Eau de vie and grape juice) and some rocket fuel made from blackthorn shoots.

During my stay I was shown RF's collection of corkscrews and given a crash course on the local patois the LS regularly saying incomprehensible things followed by "Traduction!" as instruction for GW to translate. This game was fine and perfectly normal until he grabbed a topless calendar and proclaimed loudly "titties traduction!". There are after all many similarities between the English and French languages.

After this bewildering afternoon we emerged blinking into the sunshine and all piled into LS's car (Yes I know but still!) and drove about 200 meters to LS's house where he insisted that we start on the Pastis. GW had bailed by this stage and I was left to fend for myself for 40 minutes of stuttering French/Patois and sign language.

After I'd staggered back I have to confess I didn't get any more painting done.