Inconsequential archeology

 Our new abode is somewhat mysterious in its history. The agent had muttered something about 1960 or 70s, but the electrician discovered wiring he reckoned to be from the 40s, or certainly the 50s. Apparently the building has been added to over the decades - as whatever family lived here had expanded, or the goat shed had been noted as a future extra bedroom, or . . . who knows, certainly the sellers didn't have much idea.

The oddest bit of the house is where I am working to create our bed and breakfast/family and friends logement. The windows and doors appear to be from the 30s, possibly a bit later. Maybe they took them from another building, or maybe there are parts of the house which really are that old. Some of the walls are of the local stone - tuffeau, and some are breeze block, and there's a ton of plaster covering everything in states varying from - wow, this is great plastering! through to - this really ought to come off and we start again. The latter is in the bedroom I am painting/filling/painting. Proper builders like our friend Kevin would shake his head at the dents and grooves I am allowing, but I know when it's all under its final coat and with furniture added it'll look quaint and pretty. No one will see the dinks, and if they do, they won't care as there will be too many other more interesting things to look at. Well, that's my theory.

The oddest of the oddest bit of the house - in said bedroom, is a corner coated in ancient creme gloss paint, interspersed with small squares of fluorescent pink paint, or possibly felt pen. There must have at one time been a small cooker here as there was a chimney flue - now gone, just an inspection chamber left. Also, a series of warped air vents which on further inspection - one was very warped so I took it out - seemed to be just sitting in the wall where no air could pass. Odd. Perhaps the 'builder' had told the house occupants that he had put in special new-fangled air grills which would assure ventilation, and had just tacked them on. We'll never know; there's certainly no 'before and after' photo album from that era.

Small and odd bedroom which will be cute and art-filled

other end featuring the mysterious air grills 

And with its earlier layers of 70s/80s paper/gamelan gong storage area

The most unknown bit of archeology is yet to come. We may or may not re-do the hideous outside tiles which resemble slabs of composite ham, but as I've had an eye-watering quote probably not. Not this year anyway. Unless Londonia suddenly gets a film deal. Which might not be 100% impossible . . .

Gadgets

We don't have many, apart from the modern day 'essentials' - washing machine, TV, computer, soon to be totally redundant DVD player, et al.
The kitchen is almost without any gadgetry apart from the fridge, cooker, a 1970s yogurt maker and a sturdy blender. The boy has been nagging for a juicer but I'm resisting this as the blender does essentially the same job and we have little work surface.
However . . . I did recently succumb to A SODASTREAM. Yes, modern, plastic and quite large . . .
BUT. There are reasons. I love fizzy water but virtually never buy it due to the landfill element of the purchase; cold fizzy water is a great alternative to beer or wine and, well that's it really, but it's taken me about six years of indecision before taking the plunge and extracting my card in Darty - a huge French 'shed' full of domestic life-enhancements.
I did look at the 'retro' styled ones which would fit more with our slightly 50s kitchen but apart from the fact they were hideously expensive they were big and blobby with even more plastic than the basic versions. So I went for a mid-priced one, still lots of plastic but in a fairly attractive sort of badger 'colourway'.
So, is it remotely ecologic? Now I have discovered you can get the gas canister refilled at our local DIY 'shed', yes, I think it probably is, compared to buying bottled water. Of course the better option would be either move next to the source at Pellegrino (if they let you nick the water yourself) or just drink flat water, and be glad of it!
If I ever had the wonderful opportunity to appear on Desert Island Discs (one has to have daft dreams) I might well consider the Sodastream as my item of luxury. A continual supply of bubbly water to refresh myself while exploring, reading and generally lying about . . . if the deal included ice and lemon of course.

                                                      

Our black and white 'special edition' sodastream placed next to the 1970s yogurt maker. Hope they get on OK.