"Good fences make good neighbours"*

The geomètre and her assistant came and went on Tuesday so the boundary is now marked out between our house and Georges’ empty one next door.  After they left,Georges and Spouse  worked happily together  preparing the formwork for the foundations of the fence/retaining wall to divide our properties. “With a bit of good luck,” we thought, “we’ll get this done before we leave next week.”  Thinking they were finished for the night, Spouse turned to attack the fig tree and Georges continued to put up the forming. 

Alert as always, Spouse muttered to me that one of the tiges (metal spikes inserted by geomètre) seemed to have migrated towards our house, so we diligently dug around and moved it back.  “C’est mal mesuré?” said Georges innocently.  “Bien sûr” we nonchalantly replied.

Georges went off saying he’d be back on Friday to pour the concrete, as he had another commitments in Bordeaux. This was fortunate, as during those 2 days we had time to assess the work he had done. Not only was the forming extremely crooked, it was crooked in Georges’ favour and our little path was becoming narrower and narrower. Having excavated the metre deep , 1.37 metre wide path by digging out the rubble Georges had dumped there,  we wanted the wall on our side of the boundary to give us control of it. Repairing the wooden wall damaged by the rubble was an expensive and time-consuming task for Spouse and we had paid for most of the materials for the cement wall.  Nevertheless, we felt a little guilty for I am not sure what reason, as we pulled the forming down and rebuilt it. 

Time was running short as  Sunday came to a close. Our departure was set for Tuesday and Spouse was determined to have the wall begun and therefore clearly in place.  At the end of the day, Louis from across the road sauntered over, made approving noises about the forming and suggested that he and a couple of other neighbours come and work with Spouse on Monday. As Georges had made no appearance, either to help with the wall or to sign the geometre's official document, this offer was gratefully accepted. Joy oh joy! Help and expertise!

As well as finishing the little wall, we are repairing the wood on the side of the hangar and will coat it with the black mixture of sump oils that seem to be most recommended to preserve the wood. This quaint practice explains the plethora of black sechoirs/ hangars/tabacs in the surrounding properties. Many have been converted into  two storey dwellings; others sit rather forlornly on fields, used as storage sheds, vestiges of another era.

And we have good news about the fountain (“delivered in three days” said the company website.) It is now 17 days since the order was made and 15 days since it made it to Bordeaux. However after sundry complaints to Mondial Relay and to Oogarden (I know, it’s an odd name), it has finally arrived and Louis has promised to install it in our absence.

It’s always chaos when we leave but at least we will have made some progress. Paris here I come!

at least it is calm inside

* From "Mending Wall"(Robert Frost)

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Autumn, the “season of mist and mellow fruitfulness", has arrived and with it, a torrent of falling leaves. In the waters of the canal, the trees, changing from green to russet, seem to have multiplied.

To protect it from the leaves, we have put the cover on the pool and ripped down the bougainvillea and la vigne verge  (virginia creeper) leaving the house a little bare and sad. Still as one summer fades, we can look forward to the next.  It is good to be here at this time of year as we can attack the garden with relish, knowing that next year, it will be less dominant. 

Everything grows so quickly here. We have cut down the fig trees (growing entwined) down near the creek that makes one of the boundaries of our land, although they will probably return next year. Their wood has been stored for next year's heating and I indulged my primeval passion for fire, by burning off some of the trees we cut down last year.

However the huge crop of figs has not been wasted. Its bounty: jars of fig jam, spicy fig chutney and figs in rum.

Of Tiles and Trenches

There’s  bit of a lull in the proceedings here at the moment. Autumn has come and it’s cold and wet. I have spent quite some time searching for an online template so I could make round labels for the tops of my spice bottles  that sit in a drawer and hence can’t be identified. Then I dried the garden herbs (basil, tarragon, thyme and oregano) and threw out the old purchased ones which were well beyond their use-by date.  Pathetic I know, but it’s cold and wet and what can you do? From upstairs at the computer came for a few hours, the drone of Spouse at the computer humming ( or was it singing or even groaning, “John Brown’s body lies a- moulding…..”) Seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

Dried basil

The tiles with their regrouted joints are finished, I think. I can’t say they look a lot better. When the trusty workers took a lunch break last week, I went out and inspected their work.  It looked pretty awful so I tried to improve on it, and then called Spouse to take a look. Admittedly he was in the middle of some Much More Important Computer-based Work, and not in the mood to discuss the problem so he hosed out all the joints they had done in the morning. 

On their return, they assured me, that they had not finished and had the final stages planned for after lunch. As they started again, with little good grace, our neighbour, Arthur, who is chef de chantier dressed us down for interfering. Rather chastened by this, we took the opportunity to escape to the local village pick up point where our new fountain was supposed to be ready for collection. It was not there. 

Yesterday, I got to work with acid and a power hose trying to clean up the concrete that seems to be everywhere on the dalles.  I guess they must be finished as we got the facture for their labour.  Could be an end of month bill though.

On a more positive note, Spouse and  Georges are making progress with the trench next to the hangar.  As I’ve said before, it looks as if we are ready for the next World War 1. They seem to have come to an agreement and we are waiting for the geomètre (surveyor ) to come next week to confirm the bornes.  These are the markers that delineate the boundary. It is illegal to take one out as they define property lines.  Georges produced one from under a rock while he and Spouse were digging. Apparently it is common practice for the locals to keep theirs in their barns and to insert them in the ground when needed. Sadly, we will still need to pay the géometre his 750 euros when he comes on Tuesday

Une borne