Piano Concert 4 hands 2 pianos

On Friday I was reluctant to travel for 50 minutes to a concert but after a beautiful productively busy day when I was rewarded by a long walk and apricot tartlet I decided to go.  It was fun and the standard was extremely high.  The two pianists were Russian.  Yes, 4 hands playing two Steinway grand pianos facing each other in a 'being-renovated' stable block belonging to the Château de Crémault, on the banks of the River Vienne at Bonneuil-Matours.  For many years I wanted to go to the concerts but not drive the distance. I made it and how glad I was.  I arrived to find people standing in the dark... aha ... this is a French thing... this happened to me the last time I went to a concert a few weeks ago.  I am told that the time of the concert has altered and would I like some tea.  Tea never arrived but our group was ushered into the private chateau where we were shown the art on display.  I found the textile sculptures of African women fascinating and longed to be able to do that sort of thing.  We were in the back three rooms of the castle with a view of the river, if it were not night.  Beautiful, simple but not rich, paneled walls on which hung abstract paintings of 'sort of one colour' until up close you could see the texture and different hue of paint daubed onto the surface.  There was a marvelous table around which were 18 chairs!  Imagine sitting there in Georgian style.  I liked another table on which were silver plates, glass containers, candles, dried lavender flowers, bottles of liquor, glasses, huge vases of champagne corks, a pottery angel, a cornucopia of walnuts, a panoply of peacock feathers,  and much else besides on the table, under the table and around the table set against the wall with a mirror to reflect the bazaar.  After listening to our host we were taken outside to the ancient orangery where no orange flowers bloomed but his paintings of the sea hung on the wall. He elaborated in detail before confessing they were his.  I liked them very much but my interest was transfixed to the dilapidated, open window.....

It was time to buy my ticket and choose a seat... oh with difficulty.... two grand pianos facing each other and seats on all sides of the pianos.....  I sat by the window but later moved when the ladies played 4 hands at one piano.   I was in awe. Yes they had music scores but the quality of the pianistic skill was impressive, certainly of any city concert hall. How could they play so fast AND turn those pages over? They played Liszt, Schumann, Chopin, Ravel, Messiaen, and William Walton"s Valse from Façade.  I couldn't get a play list.

Afterwards we were invited to have a glass of wine and were served sweet biscuits which gave an opportunity for people to mingle. I was surprised to be speaking to our host, the painter who had given us the arrival tour.  It must be costing an absolute fortune to renovate one of the two stable blocks with oak flooring much the same as mine and then have the cost of the  ceilings, lighting, "candlearbres" (how do you spell that word? aha ... candleabras - it looks so strange when I know that les arbres are trees and les bras are arms!)  as well as heating for the regular concerts. Do they own these two pianos or are they hired?   Whatever ... I had a wonderful evening, returning at midnight, and enjoyed an experience again like no other in England or in France.  The ticket for such musicianship was 16e. I can't afford to go to their weekly concerts but I shall definitely think about making the effort more often.

A kaleidoscopic summer in 2010

May 2010 to August 2010

After sand blasting.....there was a kaleidoscope of activities. These were certainly colourful but not always pretty!

It was impossible to relax when decisions had to be considered and made, shopping for materials and tools was necessary and living was all go, go, go with increasing tensions.  I had help but hindrance seemed to be by the side as I attempted to face the consequences of purchasing this particular house.

Life seemed to throw me several lessons all at once.  I've known myself to be a slow learner and have often had to experience several lessons.  Repetition though is part of the learning process as I used to tell those I taught. Awareness, observation, courage, confidence as well as time to reflect help! I certainly was having all this thrown in my direction. 

ADMINISTRATION
May is the time for tax return forms - not as simple as it sounds! Several visits to the tax office and then they were happy!  Every year is not easy!
Accounts of expenditure had to be kept.  I quickly began to lose the plot when I had so much else to do and think about.

CLEARING OUT
Two large attics were cleared of debris that had been left from the previous owner ...
masses of old cardboard, duvets and blankets used as insulation to protect the water against the frost,
empty wine bottles, rubber pipes, old books,
polystyrene sheets,
clothes in wardrobes,
useful knitting wool and fabric,
wood, nails, hooks, metal, blue farming twine (all affectionately renamed as Augés, after the previous resident, he solved all conundrums with bits of wood, metal, string)
tiles, old kitchen crockery,
kitsch items such as a sequined santa!
old mirrors (these are to go in the garden)
old furniture some of which served useful as building site seats and tables but then disintegrated,
garden rubbish - oyster shells, chicken and beef bones and metal littered the garden,
... to name but just some of the stuff that made mountains in the courtyard until it was taken to the dechetterie in cars and remorques.

REMOVAL and REPAIR
Radiators were removed from the walls,
external shutters were sanded and painted and sanded and painted...
and to add to difficulties the car started to have a repeat of electrical problems, all to do with the remorque lights blowing the fuse!
The ceiling between the beams was plasterboarded, plastered and painted.
The walls lost their wallpaper with tears and laughter whilst music helped to keep the rhythm going. As I worked my way around the room, the concave walls were filled as best as we could not having the correct tools (months later I bought the correct trowel!)   Plaster filling resulted in dust, dust and more dust and needed the patience and determination of Job.  My gratitude is vast!
In the midst of chaos artisans came to give estimates for roof repair and electricity repair.

TOIL, TROUBLE and inevitable TOLL
The backs of the two men took a toll from digging ditches, distributing rubble in country lanes, cutting a door hole in a French breezeblock wall and reaching high to the ceilings.  To work hard as a skivvy was my way of demonstrating my gratitude as well as the fact that it brings me enjoyment to provide breakfast, coffee, tea, lunch, cakes, ice-creams, beer and wine, as well as to sweep the site clean, several times a day.  Sanding woodwork was not so pleasant for me  but I was ready to lift buckets of rubble, problem-solve and add ideas for project management. 

FAILINGS
I was being pressured to design, choose and buy bathroom furniture when clearly I had no idea.   I wasn't confident with what I wanted nor what to buy. I was also lacking confidence in considering where electrics should go, calculating tiling and paint, even though over the last 12 years I have become well-used to house renovation and the inside of DIY stores. The difference this time was the scale of this project. It was not just redecoration.  I respect interior designers and builders but the client also needs to be respected. It was my own fault in many ways to bring in the workers before I had had a chance to decide what the house required. Retrospectively, I have no qualms now in a) bringing men to work as it made things happen... and b) being indecisive etc  because out of those inadequacies I may have caused the builders a lot of frustrations but I am achieving the style of house that I like. 

SUCCESS
In the midst of chaos we ate brilliantly... and somehow I, him and him, made cherry clafoutis, paschka, bread, prawn lakhsa, enjoyed barbecues, casseroles, roasts and swam in the river, went to music concerts and brocantes, sat in the garden and talked and talked. It was a lovely experience and fun.
We did our best to rise above the challenges which seemed to hit us anew each day, designed to destroy a dream enveloped amidst the kaleidoscope of emotions.

REGRET
It makes me sorrowful, regretful and I thought I was the catalyst for what has happened but I know that it was not all my fault and that deeper psychological traumas are responsible for feelings that have been mismanaged by myself and others.

ENJOYMENT
Midsummer came and Eve was fun!      ( I'm looking for the PHOTOS.......)
My son and I decided to burn one pair of the several pairs of clogs that had been taken off the walls..... this pair were doomed as the rites were read.  We had a marvellous meal I seem to remember and sat reflectively under the stars when my son told me he'd much prefer to see his mother dancing and laughing

JULY 2010
After 7 weeks my world was rather topsy-turvy. My son went home and I went to England where I stayed for the first two weeks of July 2010 and wished I'd stayed there for longer as my birthday in France was the most depressingly, miserable birthday I had ever, ever, ever experienced.  No one to share it with. No special meal. No cake. No presents until after the day.  My son sent me LOVE because that was all I said I ever wanted and what a surprise to open 4 sculpted letters and my daughter sent me a beautiful glass necklace. I cried.

Love on a mantelpiece which has been replaced by a woodburner.

Pretty glass tear drop to accompany the love I yearned for.

AUGUST 2010
July disappeared. I rallied. August seemed so cold. When the weather improved two of us spent about 20 hours clearing two gardens where the grasses were over 2 feet tall. Another 10 hours cleared the debris from my stable garage building.

BAD DREAMS
I was sleeping between two houses and on the morning of 7th August 2010 I had a dream with a hugely sized number '7/2/24'.  It was telling me where to go on this date.  It was rather like the NEON sign 'LOSE' in my dream that I had in March 2010. It was a warning.  I camped in my house.

FRUSTRATIONS and SETBACKS
I tried to sand and paint a small room but the finish of the walls and woodwork was poor to start with so how could I make silk out of a sow's ear!  It was not what I wanted to achieve.  I became angry and frustrated with everything and everyone, recounting in my head past actions, words, emotions and how it could have been made better.  I despaired at the whole idea of having bought my house because it seemed that by and large it had brought me hell, unhappiness and thrown my life up into the air in shards of glass, fragments of dust, meaningless matter and all at my age and his!
My daughter sent me a text message to say that there are reasons why I have come to this house and I have to learn what the lessons are.  She gave me strength to carry on when all I wanted to do was to crawl into a pit somewhere. On reflection as I write this 17 months after my purchase I consider she was correct.
Then a friend was hospitalised and weirdly this resulted in further worries, deceits, confessions and miseries!  When would it ever get better? Because it can't get any worse.... or can it????????
There is a Law of Attraction and a Law of Thought and I have been guilty of the two with my anxiety and paranoia. I also believe that paranoia from elsewhere was also responsible.

A SUMMING UP 

In the months from May to August 2010 I was aware of being:  active or still, hardworking or lazy, reflective or unable to think, animated or tired,  happy or sad,  positive or negative,  enthusiastic or struggling,  proud or ashamed, confident or embarassed, overjoyed or depressed, competent or overwhelmed..... and so many other conditions of JUST BEING that appeared to fluctuate seemingly incessantly,  as I waited for each moment to tell me what to do next.  Increasingly I heard of people who were unwell and I worried about  my own health and that of the people I love and knew that life should be celebrated and not reduced to the negativity, inner injury and tears that seemed to be knocking on my door and that of the people I love.

   

With regard to my very own house, by August, it felt as if a kind of secret was being revealed to me, demonstrating a range of unexpected feelings; trepidation, fear, anxiety, excitement, energy, enthusiasm, shame, embarassment ( the amount of rubbish destined for the décheterrie), then stillness and calm as I tried to understand how the house wanted to be looked after.  I began at some point to feel quite content as I listened to the silence and sounds within and without the stone walls and imagined times gone before and times to come.

I'd been rejected but I was still in love

He says this in his speech - Steve Jobs 2005.

That's how I feel exactly ... but hey ... I love so many people and so many things and even I am beginning to love myself ... passion must be like a fire or a candle - it needs to be kindled so that it can burn brightly before it dies.

Love is a treasure. It is not sacrifice. It is patient and kind. It too has to be kindled and kept alive.

I learn in life that wherever there is a hello there is bound to be a goodbye ... 
who are we to know when our joy and sorrow will arrive.
I am able to laugh and then in almost the self same moment pour forth tears and vice-versa.
It's probably healthier to be somewhere in between.

There are stages in my life when I return to a most beautiful source of wisdom for solace - the book called 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran.  

On Joy and Sorrow  

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine, the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Blast

Events in May and June 2010

Blasting appeared to take on a whole new meaning. 

Everyone was exhausted, stressed and almost killed off by the end of May. 

All the delightful, leisurely moments that as a team we had enjoyed, appeared to be meaningless, as if they had never existed. 

I'd performed at my piano teacher's pupils concert and the practice required probably got on everyone's nerves! I was annoyed with myself when I made a mistake playing too fast and had to stop, start again!  One Sunday I did a 10km walk alone but with the village group.  

In May there are a lot of feast days. Brocantes were galore at the weekends and on the hottest day ever we went to La Villeperdu, Valencay and St Maure but really it was just, just too hot.  

After sand blasting there was the neck-breaking sanding of the beams.  Men on site were covered in more dust as new plasterboard replaced the damaged board between beams. This was not envisaged!  Then taping, jointing, filling 'dinks' in walls and ceiling and much, much more sanding of plaster.  This required repetition, time and patience.   

BUT ... Oh what a beautiful result was produced and I AM DEEPLY GRATEFUL.

Every time I look at my huge beams I remember the cost involved and I don't mean just monetary.

I remember too that machine and the scaffolding and I continue to appreciate the effort that two men contributed to making a difference in what was a former barn before it's conversion about 26 years ago.

Wall paper stripping continued....the scaffolding was mine  to reach the top of the extremely high walls! 

L'art et Lard at Le Petit Pressigny

What a wonderful day!

I can't possibly show you in photographs all the artists' works that were exhibited around the village in houses, gardens, sheds, caves (pronounced as carves but some were trogladyte caves...) as I did not take photographs of their talent.  There was such creativity and inspiration. One young female painter whose exhibits were the earthy colours of Utah ...... told me how she walked in those canyons about 20km each day all by herself for 6 weeks !!!!!!!
I think my favourite art work at the festival exhibition were:
photography: Rieja Van Art avec les textes de Michele Guignandon and also those of Serge Lopez. The photographic content was the traditional cotton and linen of France.
sculpture: Claude Eybert  - he worked in wood, zinc, glass and broken crockery and the work is very tactile.
pottery: Dominique Maroille makes beautiful garden flowers and I love the miniature coffee mugs of Magalie
paintings:Charlotte Guérineau captures the subtlety of the ochre in rocks and sand and charm in her confident self is expressed in the passion she has for the desert.

If I were to have the time, I will later learn how to make a slide show of my humble photography.  Meanwhile here are some of my own art images, as taken apart from the first which was cropped:

Steve Jobs becomes an icon

I love my Applemac.  It has enabled my creative writing of text and poems and allowed archiving of other written documents.  It has prompted me to improve my neglected photography skills .  It has stimulated me to develop blog and website creation and facilitated research into learning and life by using the internet.  It has helped me to listen to a wide range of music, explore wonderful events, people, places and quite frankly be in touch with so many different subjects in this vast world.  The world is accessible!  In turn other software has allowed me to communicate with others.

The format is easier to use than Windows.  I think that once bitten by a Macbookpro it is difficult not to have one.


I am self taught with the computer.  I just click what's on screen in order to find out what it does and how it works.  For several years I had responsibility for IT development, until wearing so many hats,  having so many responsibilities and unable to keep pace with the pace of time I eventually returned the responsibility to my Senior Manager!  It was frustrating as no sooner had we bought one computer to meet government requirements, the next was necessary and it was a different configuration.  Buying piecemeal was hopelessly uneducational!

On the day of Steve Jobs' death I heard on the news a few words about 'time in our lives' which resonated with what I'd been recently experiencing. I just keyed in those words which had been a snippet of his 2005 speech.  It is so inspirational.  Please take the time to listen to it and or read it.

http://www.ted.com/talks/steve_jobs_how_to_live_before_you_die.html

http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2011/oct/06/steve-jobs-pancreas-cancer

http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2011/oct/06/steve-jobs-quotes

His words have touched me.

I am a fatalist. I believe that lessons, knowledge, experiences, information, and I don't know what come to the person when needed.  His speech came to me when I needed it. 

I am going through some challenging times in what I think is a transitional period of maturing or growing up and having realisation about life issues that I haven't learned.

I am also trying hard not to waste my time living anyone else's life and it is a struggle keeping to my business and it is a struggle to keep focused on that and to ignore the business of others.

Keeping on my track and not getting derailed onto someone else's track or just derailed completely is a several times daily challenge.

I am having to re-educate myself and do one task at a time so that I am 'on track'.  I used to be able to multi-task. I now realise I was probably very inefficient at what I did. Maybe I was just younger and better at circus tricks!  When the myriad of tasks that have accumulated crowd in on me and I end up trying to do several all at once, or I look at them all and do nothing,  I have to say STOP. Then having STOPPED I have to concentrate very specifically on one thing only, however long it takes, and even though it should take a few seconds, if it takes longer it does not matter. I am doing it. And hey, I am gradually, albeit very slowly, ploughing through the jobs.

I am also having to re-educate myself to re-learn Time Management. Now that linked to the problem above is an interesting one.  Planning is difficult!  But I am learning how to do it again!  I know a tidy desk is a tidy mind and I try hard to keep organised.

Time is limited. I have wasted and waste much time. But it appears that what is the now in my life has had to exist.  It is part of the process of why I am where I am now.  It is part of the process where I am trying to make my own decisions and not be influenced or pressured into issues that are not entirely mine own.   I am not someone else. I am not responsible for any one else. I am who I am. I am no one else. If people cannot accept me, respect me and know that I am doing my best then it is none of my problem.  And what is happening in the now is THIS  ... and This is This!

Facing death is a matter that has really dawned on me since I became 60.  Even though I have sat with relatives who were dying and even though I have been bereaved when friends and children of friends have died,  this important matter has never caused an imprint on me as much as it does today, when I realise that the clock is ticking, that mortality is short-lived, that we are here on this earth by the grace of a God and that pleasure, achievement and kindness should be our only purpose. Increasingly, because of scientific development we hear more and more of people with cancer.

A humble THANK YOU to Steve Jobs for his research, learning, insight and development of  computer technology and Apple products.

I thank him for his role in the internet, bringing vision to my ears and helping me in the faltering progressive steps towards my modest fulfilment of dreams.

Sand blasting beams within a month of owning my house

May 2010
The cost of La Sableuse to be delivered and collected was almost 100 euros, then add hire costs and the many bags of sand. My little Clio with its small remorque would never have managed. In fact the size of this professional machine was scarily impressive.
A French neighbour remarked that the "sableuse industrielle est pour les specialistes".  Fortunately, my son had worked with these machines before when he removed 25 tons of rust and dirt from his steel vessel. We would not recommend this unless you have a very strong team as it is more than a one man job!

It was ENORMOUS and made a lot of noise with the extremely loud humming drone of the compressor, its rising tones sounding like a factory signalling the time of the working day, whilst the phwshshshsh of the sand was sucked into tubes and splattered against the beams. Every now and then the pop of the sand eater indicated that it needed to digest more sand. Trickling, tinkling sand sounded against the walls and the glass window panes of the French doors before falling to the floor. (Later we discovered that the glass panes and some of the secondary glazing had been ruined.)

It was important not to let the sand get into the respiratory system, nor into eyes, nor onto the skin.  Silica sand on skin starts to softly tingle and almost burn. The two men couldn't see through their protective masks because of the cloud of dust which made it dangerously unsafe whilst reaching to the ceiling from the scaffolding. It was a gloriously hot day.  The clouds of sand billowed from the dusty room and silvered the climbing red roses on the outer wall.

Eventually when everyone felt that the beams were free of the brown lasure it was time to clear the beach!  In the silence we scooped sand into empty sacks as we sang "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside".

I was proud and in awe of what these two men had achieved. Apart from their own personal satisfaction of a hard job well done, the next most important reward was to wash away the grit in a warm bath, then relax and enjoy a glass of Saumur accompanied by duck with onions, apples and orange in a cognac sauce plus haricots verts beans.

The job continued the next morning and was completed in time for collection. After pushing the machine along the street it was hoisted by crane onto the lorry! This in itself was a fantastic, regimented procedure.  The French know how to make tasks easy using machines.

325 kilos of clean sand was blasted into used and dirty sand. A year and more later it is in dry storage waiting to weigh down the fabric around newly planted hedging plants. The grit took several weeks to be eventually vacuumed from nooks and crannies! 

The beams are now a lighter colour and do not dominate and oppress the room. 

Lighting woodburners as dark nights draw in.

September 2011
The woodburner installer returned to show me how to operate the levers on my brand new woodburner and keep it burning throughout the night.
I'd followed instructions carefully,  gradually increasing the size and intensity of the fire over several lightings since June. This is important so as to not shock the enamel.  I had also been slowly building up a bed of ash.  He thought that I had not been charging the fire sufficiently with plenty of paper and small kindling wood before adding the oak logs.  Once the fire has been going strongly for about an hour, I can close the vents.  The steel pipes that go up into the chimney to meet the flexible pipe need to be hot. The same thing at night.  Before I wish to go to sleep I must charge up the fire so that it is burning brightly and fiercely, then close the dampers.  He says it should stay in overnight if I do that.  In the morning again charge it with lots of paper and small pieces of wood again until the fire is fierce before adding the small logs to begin with and then the larger ones.
I was also instructed in how to open the front door and side door. Basically because I have a side door I should not have to open the front door once the fire is well lit. However I still feel that the fire is not drawing enough draught.
My second woodburner is the same brand but a smaller version.  I bought woodburners which are made by Dovre with the Seguin brand name on them. Nothing else is different except the price!  This woodburner in my Oval Room sounded as if it was dead when I lit it on two occasions.  The second time I managed to confirm that smoke was emitting from the exterior of the woodburner into the room! Oh horror.  The doors had to be opened and left open to get rid of the smell of smoke.
However, the charming and helpful Monsieur Jerome Lachaume arrived and solved the mystery by sweeping my pristine new enamelled steel pipes visible in the room and the flexible piping within the chimney itself.  No, it was not blocked with rags which we thought might have been left up the chimney during the previous winter when we were renovating, trying to prevent heat from the electric radiator escaping up an open chimney.  No, it was not a wasps nest.  He said it was a spider's web and has seen this happen before even in huge chimneys.  The silk prevents the air passing through! 
He lit the fire.  Problem solved. There was no smoke coming out of the air vents and entering the room. The fire sounded alive and burned brightly.  Like the other one I must over 4 or 5 days charge it so that the enamel does not get shocked and again to build up a bed of ash.

The larger one is singing away to itself as I write.  Hummmmmmm!
ADDENDUM: several days later I still have room full of smoke when I lit the smaller woodburner. Something is wrong! 

Symphony for an Autumn Solstice

September 2011
In the Tourist Office is a poster for a concert featuring Doublebass and Symphonien - hm..looks interesting!  What better way ‘to glam up and do something different'.

The concert was advertised to be in a village where I know several people, therefore the opportunity to converse in English was inviting. The name of the property sounded rather grand and being as there are some beautiful properties in Boussay and I'm going to an evening concert, I chose a little French black dress, my Wallis black jacket, black court shoes, my Sri Lankan necklace and I felt confident, happy and a woman! However….standard French attire in this region, meaning trouser, jeans or slacks would have been more appropriate!

It was to be a 30 mile return journey so I googled (such an interesting modern verb) the venue and yes, it was quite some way further north of the village!  Google does not lie, but in disbelief, as surely Boussay has a forge, I proceeded to the village.  Dusk is falling. No one is visible. I stop at the only house where I can see a flicker of humanity and ask for directions. Sure enough Google is correct! Would you believe that in the few moments that I'd parked my car and crossed the road to speak to the gentleman, another car arrived to enter the dark cul-de-sac!  Never assume in France that there is no one about! Onwards, past l'eglise and le chateau, alongside castle walls and head down smaller lanes, eventually crossing the disused railway line, over two river bridges, along narrower lanes and there it is clearly signed "La Forge", un Salon du Thé, which appears to be in the middle of nowhere. I drive in the narrow entrance and park alongside one other vehicle and enquire of the small huddle of people whether there is a concert here tonight.  Mais oui!
We pay for a ticket to a most charming lady and we wait in the open barn which clearly is a tea room!  Chairs around a white linened table are covered with old French cotton smocks / petticoats.  The table is laid with some food. Other chairs of various styles and age are scattered around the pea-shingled earth floor. There is a huge, fairly modern, cooking range against one wall and interesting paraphernalia.  Fascinating.  These days in my life I try not to pre-judge because I am always attentive for the French surprise!  Feeling overdressed but not bothered by this small matter, I wait calmly and patiently because the hour that the concert should start has well passed.  Eventually as the chouette (owl) hoots, we are ushered up a grassy slope at the back of the barn, where we emerge  in the upper floor of the barn for another surprise. The French would say "chouette".  A medley of seats are arranged in a huge attic not dissimilar to mine.  Wow… there is the double bass and there is a table arranged with drinking glasses filled with different levels of water. This is the Symphonien!!!!!!! There were about 35 various shaped glasses filled with different levels of water, all tuned and arranged like a piano keyboard.  It takes the musician an hour to tune them.  He started to learn with two glasses eight years ago!  We listened to their version of  “Autumn Leaves”,  "Gymnopiedes no 1",  "Caravan".

I was in awe at the talent.  Quite remarkable.  It gave a whole new meaning to when my father and uncles would have their scientific experiments and play with glasses and water to amuse us children!

And now the wonder of the internet brings us other glass music:

Tchaikovsky's Sugar Plum Fairy   and   Brahms Hungarian Dance no.5

During the concert, a warm red blanket was gratefully received to cover my bare legs!  It's Autumn and the barn was exposed to the cold night air! After the concert and when everyone had had a chance to wet their fingers and rub the glasses, we returned to the ground floor where we sat and chatted over a glass of wine. The artists had their supper which seemed to be nettle soup, a savoury tart, cheeses, salad and small tea cakes. I excused myself at a quarter to midnight. Everyone had been so convivial. I'd approached people, spoken in French and one gentleman appeared to be impressed with my level of French pronunciation even though I am still making huge grammatical errors.   The evening concert WAS an extremely different experience.

Can you believe that when I need it, I never have my camera but all was not lost as the owner of the house sent me these.

Boletus Luridiformis?

September 2011
One would not wish to eat this mushroom as red indicates poisonous, but not always so.

Possibly it is http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boletus_luridiformis

It was extremely beautiful with its greenish, yellowish stem.

I'd found it on the roadside verge at the edge of a mixed woodland.

Cleaning up

September  2011

It might not seem much to anyone else, but the exterior workshop attached to the house in a most bizarre manner, received a spring clean on the inside! It was not the best of jobs but now it's ready for the next bout of chaos-producing renovation, making space for the tools to return.

Brocante in Angles sur L'Anglin

September 2011

Not much left by the mid-afternoon!

Whether one calls it the end of Summer or the start of Autumn "Les estivales" have ended with the seasonal brocante.  A brocante implies that the stalls will veer more towards antiques than car-boot objects but I don't think anyone takes notice.  My stuff was certainly vide-grenier grade!  I truly did go up to my attic late last night and sort the items which I had reserved for the day when I would become courageous enough to sell in French!  The day had come.
A french friend had suggested that I could if I wish have a table in front of his garage door. I was to sell hist items but he only made one sale!  Unwittingly, he'd given me inspiration, courage and a reason for 'the kick up the pants' I needed to try and sell the saved junk from when I bought this house plus a few of my own rejects included.  My daughter also had a say in the matter and advised me that this should be a priority for my weekend.
I was suitably surprised and at the end of the day I was somewhat richer and lighter than I had been in the morning. There was no time to feel anxiety on my first ever in my lifetime vide grenier/ car boot sale because action required loading up my car, driving the short distance, unloading, returning the car to chez moi and setting up the table display.  There was no one to recognise or cause me embarassment about what I had on the table and ground!  In fact, surprisingly after a short while I did not feel at all ashamed of my things and a lot of the "rubbish" found new homes!   I priced it all low, so low that at one point I heard someone say in French that 5 cts was no price at all and it was therefore as good as free!  I also had a gratuit box which amused some and astonished others.  I am glad to have given things away for free; no one would have purchased what I gave away so the joy was in my pleasure because I did not have to take it home!  The box gradually emptied. One person even gave me a euro because she could not accept the 6 glasses for free.  Clothes went well at 10 cts per item, although I priced a jacket at 1 euro!  Some of what is left will be taken to Emmaus and some will go towards the next Brocante/Vide Grenier which will probably be in the Spring!
I was very tired by the end of the day as the cold wind had become bracing taking body warmth with it! Rain spotted during the afternoon.  By 5pm the clouds were beginning to look foreboding! Even though I packed everything away before 5pm, walking home to get the car, packing the car and taking it home again took almost another hour.  Then the friend had to take his dog for a walk and close the gallery so we were just in time to get a beer in "La Place" before they also closed their doors for the night.
At one point during the day I had a chance to reflect.   Yes, it was interesting to people-watch and when there were few people, it was almost meditational to sit and do little except wait for the next transaction.  The French are getting good at bargaining! Savvy vendors know to price UP the product because some buyers WILL price it DOWN!  There was only one object that I would not reduce; it was a tiny, decorative, brass watering can for a very small cactus or pansy; later the chap returned to pay the 50cts!  It seems I made less than 6 euros per hour so I was not jumping for joy but neither displeased; in fact, it was my pleasure to have empty boxes! Ho hum...... I know there is more emptying of my attic to do!
I learned that I did not need anyone to help me sort, carry, set up, and sell stuff.  I could speak in French, be understood and there were only a few occasions when parlance was not understood and we had to search our heads for other phrases. Everyone was so polite, even those who recognised from my accent that I was English.
I've come along way on my journey in France and today gave me pride, pleasure and self-esteem.

Digging a trench

In May 2010 I had to exercise “un droit d’echelle”. This law means that a neighbour can access another neighbour's land for maintenance and repair of property ensuring that any damage to their property is corrected, that is, left in the state that you found it in.

We needed to dig a trench along the length of the exterior wall of my property which is in my neighbour’s courtyard.  The exterior level of the land is one metre higher than the interior level of the house. We had to make sure that the walls could breathe outwards!  We discovered that they were damp because cement from previous building work had been dumped alongside the exterior wall. This was not allowing water to drain away. No wonder the wall by the chimney breast was very damp! We also discovered that rainwater was overflowing from the gutter and although the waste-pipe took the water through the thick stone wall to my garden, when it arrived there it was just being discharged straight onto a different wall and down onto the ground!!!!!

First of all we scraped away the top layer of gravel from a width of about half a metre.  But our tools were not 'man enough' so we had to hire a jackhammer to break up the earth, cement and concrete, before scooping out the earth, stones and cement down to a depth of one metre with old saucepans using old saucepans and our hands!  Useful large stones were saved to back-fill the trench.  The rest of the rubble was taken to fill in holes on a public chemin where tractors had caused ruts. It was scorching hot and thirsty work so we had to start before the sun burnt our backs.  Once the trench had been emptied we purchased new gravel of the right size and poured this onto the layer of larger stones that we had returned to the trench.  It was a good job that we owned a trailer but the jackhammer necessitated two journeys of 34 miles to collect and then return.  It was noisy, difficult and dirty work but we did it!  At the time we hoped that the work would be one factor towards a dryer internal stone wall. I think it has paid off.

There are some photos when I locate them. 

 

Along the lane

Reflection on a dizzy dream from May 2010

Along the lane is a dream residence with aura and ambience.  It could become a beautiful, bijou ancient-cum-modern ecological residence.  I visualise myself sitting in front of the house reading my book, listening to the nightingale as I face the sun. 
Dreaming!

Bathroom and Bedroom as they are today

In June 2010, the bedroom walls and ceiling were painstakingly filled and painted. Electrical sockets were improved in May 2011.  Now it is habitable but awaits the oak flooring to be laid on the existing concrete floor. Then skirting board has to be fixed.  French doors / windows await double glazed units and draught insulation. The radiator has to be replaced and some boxing in of plumbing pipes needs to be achieved. The ceiling is beautiful.

The bathroom awaits completion.

Demolition, debris, reconstruction

WASHROOM FACILITIES

Demolition commenced in May 2010. We removed a wall which separated a long thin bathroom from the large bedroom, removed the nasty shower cubicle and vanity ware. Then the wall was resited.  At the same time the oak beams above a false ceiling were revealed for a bedroom.
In the winter the electrician installed the wiring for the new bathroom and work should re-commence in October 2011.

To this day, October 2011, I still have no functioning internal bath or shower room. The functioning toilet is in the exterior block.  There was a shower in this block but the gas boiler was condemned so it’s cold water only!  I’ve managed like people did years ago. The kettle is filled and boiled several times. A system of bowls and buckets or a strip wash suffices  and when I can I use a friend's bathroom facilities. In the summer the 50m hose pipe contained water from my rainwater cistern. This heated to such an extent that one could stand in the garden where neighbours could not see and have a good 2 or 3 minutes worth of sufficiently hot water for a shower! That was great fun!

The power of the internet allows me to edit this post in June 2012 to forward the reader to the end product of a new bathroom if you were to click here. 

GENERAL SORTING OUT

Whilst two men did the manual labour, I cleared the junk that had been left in the rooms and in the attics, keeping potentially useful items, and creating "mountains of material" for the dechetterie (recycling yard) and bonfire.  Unfortunately I didn’t take photos of the unbelievable piles of cardboard, metal, wood, polystyrene, bedding materials, hooks, nails, wardrobes, clothing, tools, kitchen items, and old furniture that just had to go from the house, the attics and from the garden! This wood never made it as a bonfire because a lot of it was laminated cupboard units...eventually it was sorted and taken to the tip. The cold frame was moved to a more sensible position.

WALLS
I began to strip wallpaper from every room. The hardest was in the salle de sejour where brown vertical strings had to be pinged off the paper before the steamer could remove the paper. The walls are high and it was just as well we borrowed some scaffolding from a friend.

My very, very, very fine house

May 2010

My very, very, very fine house

It consists of two buildings joined to make an L-shaped property:

1. the original long farm house with a centrally placed chimney / fireplace

2. a barn conversion

A neighbour, who used to live in this house, remembers the farmhouse section being one room,   The position of the entrance doors and chimney confirm this.  She used to wash in a lead bath in the room behind what is now the kitchen.  That room now contains the oil fired central heating system which I'm not using.  It was a very grubby, damp and unpleasant cellar type room.  I now call it the buanderie (laundry room).  It's interesting because this particular part of the property is on the Napoleon cadastral plan.  The neighbour also remembers the house being divided into three small rooms. What is now my ‘small room’ was once the kitchen and what is now the kitchen was once a bedroom. And what is now the oval room was once the living/dining room and still is.

The barn conversion has a bedroom and bathroom and a large living room with a staircase to the attic plus access to a workshop and the rear garden.  The house decoration and barn conversion were made in 1985; the date under the removed wallpaper confirms this!  The large French-brown gates can be closed on the outer world for privacy in the courtyard or be opened wide!

This photo was taken in April just before I bought the property.

The neighbour's garden is behind my barn. The workshop has been constructed of old doors and windows but the footplan is concrete so it will be easy to gain permission to convert it into a pretty verandah. I have a huge water cistern in the ground which collects rain water from the gutters. Looking at the photo the building on the right is not mine.  Out of view is a scruffy shed area and a hen house. No I don't have any inclination to keep chickens.  The garden is L-shaped. It's a wonderful garden because it is very private!

A heritage song comes to mind:  

Crosby Stills Nash & Young - Our House (Live 1974) with thanks to YouTube

What happened to sensibility?

May 2010

To begin with, disbelief set in. I remember feeling disconnected with reality, attempting to pretend that the property was not mine! For a week or I was on avoidance by acting as a tourist at the local medieval event and then circumstances were such that I had no transport to travel the 30 minute drive to 'my house'.   Then my adult son, invited by both my partner and myself, arrived with strong arms, energy and expertise.....wake up RestlessinFrance and get your teeth into WORK! 

Within a few days I knew that I needed extra TIME to consider what I wanted to do with the house  but there was no TIME other than time to labour.   I adhered to the recommendations that one should not plan too much before becoming the owner of a property and also that one should inhabit a house for a while before making changes.  However, I could not have lived in the house in the state it was in.  It had a lovely ambiance but the wallpaper itself and the French brown woodwork would have driven me nuts!  I plunged in!

Indecisiveness had been an ever increasing problem for about 6 years, as a result of losing my career, bereavements and a major operation.  It's weird how the mind can be affected!  The  trauma resulted in mental and emotional dysfunction causing low self-esteem and it was difficult to manage in a mature way.  Now, on a steep learning curve, the men-in-charge needed me to make decisions and direct them as to what to do!  This pressure caused further anxiety when I had become used to deferring to others, and in doing so denying self-responsibility.  I always seemed to need multiple choices to see which one to choose!   It only caused disorganisation!

My son tried to teach me to have courage in the face of adversity.  He'd experienced a nightmare from hell renovation project when he and his girlfriend bought WendyAnn2 to convert to a house-boat.   If you read the start of his blog, dip into the postings and see today’s results you will marvel at their grit and determination to succeed where others would have given up.  It was character building.  I took heart from him.  There he was parenting me and encouraging me to think positively.   Mantras were necessary:

“I must tell myself I CAN make decisions.

I must NOT be worried about this and that.
I CAN do it.

I WILL do it.

 It will be OK!
     Don't give up!”  

I could see the enormity of work having removed the rose-tinted spectacles.  Depression on the Road to Hell was setting in!  Already it was clear that ambitions exceeded available funding and care would be necessary even just to update the ground floor.  

Initially the project was thought to be a make-over, however “maquillage” is camouflage.  My son was amazed at how I could think that the project could be achieved in a summer.  I didn’t want ‘to paper over cracks’  and gradually I realised what style and standard I wanted to achieve.  Oh dear, My mother always said I had ideas above my station.  A whole new spin was unknowingly developing inside my head whilst I stripped wallpaper from every room whilst I cried and fought internal as well as external battles!  My memory of this is etched on my brain!The top layer of stringy brown wallpaper revealed the paper firmly stuck to the plasterboard below.  It looked to be a long and painful endurance test to expose the bare walls but after several soakings with water and washing up liquid then applying the steamer kettle with one hand and scraping with the other the task became easier.  Little by little, it will be achieved!

My project carved itself into life. Physical exercise woke up the unused muscles which in turn began to creak at the end of a long disciplined working day.  It was essential to keep up the daily grind.  Social activities became fraught.  Life became ...'fall out of bed, rush to work, be active all day, rush home, have bath, cook meal, beaver away at domestic duties and fall into bed....late!'  Bizarrely, I loved the energy it gave me!  I had really slowed down and now I had the rekindled the kind of energy I had in my career days,  even if it did appear manic to those around me! I was also getting a good night's sleep free of anxiety! That was oh so GOOD!

Shopping for building materials re-entered our lives.  This became frustrating in its apparent consumption of time.  Travelling, purchasing and transporting goods in central France is not a quick fix!  N.B. When buying a house in Central France, ensure you have a DIY store nearby! I forgot about that on my list of criteria for buying a house!