House archeology

Our new (old, 50s? 60s?/70s?) house is a maze of discoveries - some wonderful, some less so. From climbing about in the attic it seems as if the original building must have been a small barn or dwelling made of the local stone - Tuffeau', which was added onto at various times during aforementioned epochs. The electricians, on showing me a blunted huge drill, said it's extrêmement custo meaning blooming ek, it's solid, and not going anywhere - which is great news for us, less for them and their equipment.

During the signing for the place the notaire did mention something about a dispute between the owners before us and their previous owners do do with a pig and chicken outbuilding; no sign of it now but there is a large garage that dates back a long time, no doubt without planning. Talking of such a thing . . . these days to put so much as a new down pipe in you have to get permission, but this whole road including our house looks as if things just developed rather than being planned. 

There were apparently 32 windmills along this road, the area presumably covered with wheat fields not vines as is the case now. The vestiges of about five  mills are visible, and we have some very ancient garden walls which maybe housed one of the mills. When I've slowed down from painting walls and trying to arrange building works I'll go down to the archive office and enjoy poking about - love old maps!

    

             The reason why the windmills were up here - highest point around for some distance

An excellent DIY person and myself have been tackling the weird shower room/kitchen on the ground floor and its associated bedroom as I can see we'll probably need financially to start doing B and B again. Of course, in my mind I assumed this would take a day or two but during the house archaeology we have discovered prehistoric glue that refuses to come off under the vile plastic flooring, and hideous polystyrene ceiling tiles that I'd thought . . . yeah, they'll do with a good coat of paint, but they won't, and I remember my mother's daily occupation when we lived in a London flat years ago of re-gluing the various tiles that had gently spiralled down during the night. It's got to be wood which requires a frame, and so on . . .

It'll just take a a day or two . . .

Anyway, it'll all get done and one day the salon/hunting lodge will look great with everything back where it should be when I've finished the walls and the electricians have figured out how to rewire it . . .

temporary (sort of) chaos in the salon

90% there

I think. Maybe 85%, possible 92% depending on how much I peer in depth at our construction site next door. A quick glance in through the doorway - which now has very beautiful attached oak door - thank you Micheal - gives me the impression of, nah, not really too much to do now, where as a more thorough check though and list made . . . and yes there's still a fair bit to do; mostly finishing details, a bit of searching for old light fittings/remaining second hand furniture, filling a lot of holes with lime mortar (chaux) and a couple of things that neither Mark or I can do properly.

In France, or at least in our area, it seems really difficult to find someone who is a general (and reliable) all rounder DIY-ist, or Bricoleur in French. Every step of the renovating procedure has involved specialists in their own fields: stone mason, electrician, plumber, roofer, etc, and virtually no one who is capable of doing all of it to a certain level. I suppose it avoids mess-ups, and over confidence - 'yep, can do that for you, and the roof? yeah, no probs. I know this great shortcut using cardboard and old tyres.' 

But it would be great to find someone just to help with the last few bits - bit of a kick up our collective backsides to get the project finished.

But it will be finished, and when I look back at what we started with, well, we've come quite a long way in a year.

Building site playlist

Most builders, plumbers etc we have encountered on our building reconstruction year have appeared with special dust/accident proof radios which blare out a cornucopia of current French chart stuff - in fact, less cornucopia more old croissant and dregs of coffee; just my opinion of course.

Our playlist - thank you Spotify - built for fuelling the moral at the start of whatever physical task is to be undertaken, needs updating and a few over-listened-to songs booted off but many remain as staple, super-energising and sometimes nostalgic works of pop and rock. 

These songs will forever hold images of these dusty and paint-covered moments in time, yesterday for example: What have I done to deserve this by The Pet Shop Boys on a searingly hot day sanding a ceiling in the top room. Or, tiling to the musical mayhem of Mr Bungle (see above).

If you have a few minutes . . . it's not the best live recording but marvel at the sheer energy, timing and eccentricity of this group, and the extraordinary vocal talent of Brian Patton. Shame they disbanded years ago . . .

A selection of other tracks:

Ibiza: Sleaford Mods and The Prodigy

Vicar in a Tutu: The Smiths

Scarecrow People: XTC

Goldfinger: Shirley Bassey and the Propeller Heads.

Take on Me: Aha

Total Football: Parquet Courts

Dare: Gorillaz

Psycho Killer: Talking Heads

Kick in the Eye: Bauhaus

Banana Skin Shoes: Badly Drawn Boy,

Cape Breton Wedding Reel: Boys of the Lough,

I see you Baby: Groove Armada

The Number One Song On Heaven: Sparks

Photoshop Handsome: Everything Everything

Jobseeker: Sleaford Mods

Human Behaviour: Björk

Bout de Bois: Salut C'est Cool

Tequila: The Champs

Americano: The Brian Setzer Orchestra

Egg: Mr Bungle

Boys and Girls: Blur

Such a Shame: Talk Talk

Hogwash and Balderdash: Black Midi

Elvis' Flaming Star: Pond

I'm so Excited: The Pointer Sisters

Our House: Madness

Dead Horse: Yard Act

The Wine Song: The Cat Empire

Let's dance to Joy Division: The Wombats

It's a Sin: The Pet Shop Boys

And . . . I'm too Sexy, Right Said Fred. I know, but it works for DIY.

     

Further, further, further proof

that the world is a mad and dangerous place.

On a trip to our local DIY shed a few days ago to buy a plank, I stopped in amazement at a display topped by a gabbling televisual advert for an incrementally-descending loo lid.
Yes, folks, it is true! There is an end to all that terrible worry and domestic noise pollution caused by the clack of plastic against plastic, or wood against wood if you have a posh lav. . .
For years I have felt troubled by this, disturbed you might say, even avoiding the toilet altogether and peeing in the garden so not to be plagued by this awful, house-vibrating sound . . . finally a solution! Praise the Lord of all invention!
But really. Who would buy such a thing for nearly forty euros? Quite a few people apparently if the diminished pile was anything to go by.
What could you buy with forty euros? Let me see . . . toilet paper to last for a year (if you are a little puritan with it - which one should be), lunch out for two, a good donation to Oxfam; the entire box set of Spiral (fantastic) a mahogany loo seat with gold hinges, a night in a sordid motel with your lover, a new shirt, a hairdo, a massage/reflexology/shrink session, a tree, or even two trees depending on the age of it/them, a budgie, a vast chocolate cake and a bottle of fizz and invite a load of people round for tea . . . or you could buy a plastic widget that will make your loo lid become silent.
I don't think anyone in our house ever puts the lid down anyway. Are we bad people?

Down the plughole

Are we heading for it - the end of everything?
When I see things like this, I fear for mankind - well some of us. There are plenty just getting on with their lives, not taking too much, not willfully destroying everything for the sake of More Stuff.
Things Like This in this case happen to be plugs. Sinks come with plugs - on a chain, or the pop up variety, which do have a lifespan, true, but it's usually the mechanism that dies, not the plug itself. So it is unlikely that any of us really NEED a new plug with a cat on it.
I'm sorry, whoever had this terrific idea/designed them/manufactured them and then sold the idea to this particular DIY store, but I just don't understand.
Why not design something that would actually be useful like a traffic warden-detector, or a special gismo that you could put under a café table leg to stop it wobbling, or some sort of herbal drug that would make gardening fascinating for kids.
I held up people-traffic in the shop while I just gawped at these Things. I've been chuntering (what a great and seldom used word) on about wastage of world resources for some time now, and trying to make our own small changes - little packaging as possible, recycling furniture, clothes, food (soup just gets better and better the day after and the day after) but on sight of such utter non-usefulness, well . . . I just don't know. Blogger stomps off to make more tea (loose, with organic milk, in second hand mug) what is the world coming to . . . grr.

DIY

On a forage to our local junk recycling emporium yesterday, amongst other treasures (large piece of 70s fabric for thirty cents, five glasses for a euro and a plastic cassette carrying case that Ezra is going to turn into something else) I found this absurdity.
We have a loo wall covered in such tat, but this piece is a Mona Lisa.
Added to the super-kitsch photo of frolicking Spaniards, is the fabulous attempt at micro-DIY. In fact, it looks just like something I would have done.

Oh, the key hooks have fallen off our costa blanca key holder. I'll just do a quick repair job with a large hammer and an assortment of nails, screws and allen keys (and anything pointy that happens to be gracing the floor of the shed). Shit, the bar's made of plastic not metal . . . never mind I'll just hit it a bit harder. There job done.

N.Y resolutions

Oh, not that again.
Actually I'm just going to stick to last year's which is simple: try and smile more generally. The other one I always start and then fail within a day or two is just do it meaning if the hammer is in the shed and I'm trying to hang something on the wall, go and get it - don't try knocking a nail in with a shoe or a cup as it won't work.
I was trying to find - and the net failed me this time - a memorable piece of performance art film we saw in the Ikon gallery in Birmingham years ago - a man trying to drill a hole in a wall and the cord was  . . just too short to reach. So instead of going to find an extension lead it became a eternal loop of him plugging drill in, reaching for spot on wall and plug coming out. Human behavior, or mine anyway.
Anyway, this year will be different. I've already cleaned the tidemark off the bath where I washed the dog some time ago, and hoovered behind the TV: life is good. Next I will unearth stuff in the bowels of the in-tray and make all those phone calls that I should have done last week - tomorrow.