Rent  A  Traditional  Country
Farmhouse  in  South-West  France

Week 88

Monday 8th May to Sunday 14th May

let holiday house, franceThe second window is installed, and all made good; except for the cleaning of the oak sill on the inside, but it's in. And to the untrained eye, it does not seem much different, but opening a window with a smooth working handle, is a lot easier than breaking your fingernails on a piece of plywood wedged into the opening.

In between plastering the joints of plasterboard in what is the main bedroom and on suite bathroom, we've been gradually clearing the front of the house of unnecessary clutter. All the buckets and pots used for painting, pointing and plastering have been moved to the side of the house not seen by anyone except the occasional walker in the woods.

The plants all crying out to be transplanted from their pots; so much so that the roots have taken through the bottom of the pot into the grass are being moved to the same place; the nursery as the Boss calls it, and general rubble removed.

The story of the week is about a friend of ours (who for reasons which will become obvious shall not be named). Last summer he helped a French guy pick grape near St Emillion. They drove around some vineyards, and into the grape fields and picked a truck load of grapes. They then went back to the French mans house and he watched the process of preparing the wine. He really enjoyed the whole experience. This year the same fellow asked him if he'd like to come picking again. Of course he said yes and he had enjoyed it so much, could he bring his wife along.

Fortunately, before the grapes were ready, the French guys daughter had a quiet word in our friends ear. "Has my father asked you to go grape picking this year. Did you know that he steals the grapes and does not own any vineyards." It took quite a while for us to stop laughing. Needless to say our friend will not be picking grapes this year!

And as for the garden, so far I am on top of the weeds and we've planted more trees. An Acer and an Oak which was picked from the woods by Steve, as a seedling. Also, the Acacia which we dug; well pilled up from the woods too (with my bare hands, no shovel, despite the thorns) and we thought had died, has started to shoot. We've also moved a Horse Chestnut from it's pot to the garden.

Now I spend all day watering trees, and not doing any building. I never thought I would pray for rain and I don't know what the neighbours make of the rain dance in the evenings.

And I'm still collecting rocks and adding to the piles