Travel to France the new house

Woke at 5am and headed off to the port of Dover only to find that Calais was blockaded by strikers. P&O were all tied up and the tunnel was closed. Fortunately we were booked on the DFDS line that still was operating on the Dover – Dunkirk route, and they managed to get us on the 8.30am crossing.

Glorious crossing, the sea was like a millpond. Arrived in Dunkirk at 11.30 French time only to find that the roads were all stacked up with lorries trying to get into the port. Crawled and inched our way towards Calais, only to find that it was at a standstill. All the lanes were full of lorries or French strikers holding the traffic up. After an hour and a half we managed to slip of the dual carriageway and get onto the Paris motorway.  There just any way we were going to get round Calais and head out to Rouen, our usual route.

 

The going was excellent until we hit Paris, which was horrendous due to volume of traffic and a couple of accidents.

Eventually got to Mike and Annette’s late in the evening, totally shattered and wet through. The temperature had not dropped below 38 degrees all the time we were driving. Even with the aircon on it was uncomfortable.

 

 Wednesday was glorious. Just sat around, ate and drank with Annette and Mike and there other guest Haig. By the time we went to bed totally entertained by our hosts we had forgotten all about the trip down. In fact we had to look on the overall event in a positive manner. We at least got over. Thousands of other people never managed it. And the blockade was not lifted until the Thursday. 

 

Thursday was signing day, but first we met Pam the estate agent round the house we were  buying. We wanted to make sure that everything was as agreed. In fact it was better than expected. The vender and his son had cleaned the whole place up and left loads of very useful items. Gin, Pineau, beers, tonic, lemon. What more could you ask for.

At 3pm we all met up at the notaire and after an hour and fifty or so signatures the deal was done. Hands shook; smiles all round and money transferred we headed off to our new holiday home.

 

Offloaded all that we had crammed into the car, pilling it up in the hallway ready for a quiet time when we could empty the contents around the house. Then it was back to Annette’s to collect our cloths and the food we had been storing in her fridge freezer. 

Then it was back and the excitement of looking around the place properly. Not disappointed. After a disturbed sleep (horrendous thunder claps overhead during the night) we awoke and had a long strong coffee before starting work on the essentials. Shower curtain changed, curtains up, paintings and ornaments not to our taste removed, curtain poles changed and new curtains fitted.

After a shower and breakfast it was time to inspect all the nooks and crannies before heading out for supplies.

 Friends continued to pop over to see the new house, have nibbles and drinks and to wish us well in our new home in France. Its as if we have never been away

 

The house as buckets full of charm, but we will have to add the home comforts and a little panache to make it truly ours. Yet it’s down to time, priorities and access to the right equipment.

The lists have started and the garden is being attacked at present. Trees, shrubs and plants are being begged and borrowed and its already starting to take on a loved appearance.

But enjoying oneself is biting into my work time. And to be honest, its great to have the balance right for a change. We have only been in France for six days and we already have been to a Chasse lunch that started at noon and finished in the evening, BBq’s out, dinner’s out, entertaining in the house and lots of impromptu visits by neighbours and friends, resulting in the downing of tools and the picking up of a cup or more frequently a glass.

This week we are out for another BBQ and a visit to St Privat and a moules and chips supper. Its all too much enjoyment.

 

 

Jobs to Do in the new house?

For the moment l am just content to sit under the covered abri, sheltered from the early morning sun sipping coffee and eating croissants.

Its so easy to fall into a rhythm called rural France.

We look out onto spectacular views, a chequer board made up of sunflowers, mixed woodland, rustic farmhouses and freshly cut and wheat, whilst listening to the melodic birdsong and the gentle thud of apples as they tumble to the ground.

A Montague Harrier floats effortlessly over our neighbour’s field looking for its morning feed. Whilst our neighbour’s racing pigeons take it in turn to exercise their wings and circle the rooftops, making a whooshing noise as they dive and bank in formation over our heads.

 

Its summer time in France

The temperature is in the high 30s, so it’s hot, but undercover, protected from the blistering sun, sipping a cool drink its sublime.

If you want to do some work, get up at 6am and potter around. Then relax until it cools down. Prepare for the evenings frivolities, make the nibbles, make some ice, slice the lemon and chill the sauvignon blanc. If you are really in need of work, make a Pimms with all its garnishes.

 

With the sun come the storms. No rain just thunderous roars from the weather gods and the odd lightening.

On Sunday morning l was awoken by the loudest bang l had ever heard. At first l thought the house had collapsed around my ears, perhaps the gas cylinder had exploded, or we were having an earthquake. But it just turned out to be a thunder crack. The lightening had it two electrical pylons and turned them into pieces of bent metal. Surprisingly enough, we still had power. Our French neighbour mentioned it was loud and disturbed his pigeons. Whilst his nextdoor neighbour, the Dutch couple had thought it was a terrorist attack. I don’t think we are that important, and ISIS are looking for maximum impact, not a dozen locals in the deepest part of France. The news media wouldn’t have given it a second glance.