Coup de Cœur – Part Three: I beg your pardon …
I’m no magician and smoke and mirrors are not part of any repetoire I possess however much I might sometimes wish they were. In arrant contrast, it was abundantly clear that the incumbent owner of the house was a maestro of the art. What greeted us was a filthy mess though there were still a number of rather lovely pieces in the house. But we had this feeling, this sense that it can be, will be, beautiful again. We signed the Acte that made us the legal owners exactly a year after we first viewed it. A year that will remain forever tatooed on my little brain and a year that provides the reference for a novel in progress in my head.
Three months after signing the Acte, the process of cajoling the previous owner (who mostly spends his time in Marseilles and seems mostly to be unable to leave his bed though he was beyond vigorous when we met) to come and take what he wanted from the house before the start of les grandes vacances on 1st July or thereabouts, was ongoing. The village had been totally and remarkably supportive of us and we had agreed that they could use the ground floor as an Office de Tourisme and that they could revert to the years old tradition of using the house in their famed Nuits de Marcolès. In France if the owner of the effects wants them you have to dance a lengthy gavotte before you can retain them or eject them. We danced. The village stowed things upstairs to make way for their tourist office. We continued to dance. The summer festivites came and went. We still danced. Le Monsieur came and went sporadically and things disappeared. He was clearly suffering from the cold further south in Mediterranean Marseille because he decided to rip the radiators from their moorings excavating chunks of wall with them. All this is legal by the way. We carried on dancing. Finally about a year ago word came that he had taken all he wanted. Exhausted, we threw off our Red Shoes and stopped dancing.
I drove south to my newly empty house. Wind back. Empty? Nah! Every stick of junk he possessed was still there. Somehow my enchanting house, the place I fell in love with on the internet, remember, had turned into a cold, unwelcoming landfill site. We had known it was impossible to walk across the grenier (attic) floor, my husband had kept the worst secrets of the cave (cellar) from me on the basis that the ladder was dodgy. Lies, all despicable lies – I’m quite the mountain goat on the quiet and I bound up and down ladders quite nimbly, thank you. But I chose not to argue, nor look, frankly fearful of what I might find. The truth was far worse than any imagined fiction. And sandwiched in the middle of top and underground floors are two others, which somehow seemed to have sprouted their own detritus. Abundantly.
.
Enter the town. Monsieur le Maire de Marcolès is officially my hero. His assistant can clearly trace her ancestry to celestial angels. The town would see to the emptying. The least they could do in the face of our saving their jewel (they call it their emblem) … well actually they didn’t need to, but my goodness me we snapped their hands off with the speed and certainty of a Kingfisher skewering it’s supper.
The town workers (generally referred to as les ouvriers) set about their task. They fitted it in between their routine and other jobs. I journeyed down after a month and was overjoyed. A week later I went again and could not believe what greeted me – there was even more debris than the week before. This bizarre and unwelcome routine continued for weeks. Smile-despair-smile-despair. Every single time I thought there was nothing else to unearth, the jolly ouvriers found more. Not that I was complaining, they were moving the damned stuff. And it was just stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. The physical incarnation of a clearly disturbed mind. The demented collection of a frenzied, and almost certainly certifiable magpie.
In November, we were in the Mairie (town hall, if you will) discussing something or other with the beatified assistant when the chief ouvrier came staggering in. He looked at us, shrugged the most glorious gaelic shrug I have EVER seen and told us we were entirely and clearly mad to have taken on the house. The beatifeic one laughed angellically. I felt sick.
Christmas loomed. We were to spend it in England. HB² arrived at my mother’s house on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day (his birthday incidentally), he checked email. The beauteous creature who is the assistant to the mayor of Marcolès (I’ve recommended her for canonisation) had sent us a note: ‘The house is empty. Happy Christmas’. We danced.
PS: The picture shows me clasping a rose. A rose plucked by the Mayor the first time we showed him inside a house he remembered from his childhood throughout his adolescence and for a large chunk of his adult life when it was always, always part of village festivities. Until the previous denizen moved in. The rose-bush flourishes on the side of the house. The Mayor has taken it upon himself to keep it tended in our absence. And tells me whenever he has pruned, or re-fastened it to the wall with a liberal sparkle in his eye – sparkling at ladies being something I have noted, he is more than rather good at. I may not have been promised a rose garden, but I beg your pardon – I got one tended by the highest official in town!
And just because I can and I fancy giving you a bonus … here’s Moira Shearer again but this time strutting her red shoes to Joy Division’s ‘She’s Lost Control’ … let’s face facts, I know the feeling.
Catch up on the previous installments of this noble saga here which contains a link to part one
OMG – this is spectacular even by French standards – They are incidently, a nation of hoarders – I could cry when I think of the treasured and semi valuable things that I sold for a song in the car boot sale in Wales, because there would be no room for them in our small one bedroom flat – only to have Marc stuff every nook and cranny with empty Felix cat food boxes amongst other things! (he goes on to fill these with more junk!)
Not quite such a horror story, but when we saw the flat (which we rent) it had a kitchen of sorts, when we moved in all tat was left was a sink (all they have to have to call it a kitchen apparently!)
So we were off to IKEA buying and building kitchen units on the day we moved (22nd December) as my daughter and her partner were coming on the 24th to stay for Christmas!
What a super village you have landed in though!
P.S. I am sorry, after 6 years, I must be becoming French as I am eyeing up the old wine crates in the photo………..
Oh Lindy! You have me laughing out loud all by myself and hoping the neighbours can’t hear! You had me at cat food boxes but when you then own up to eyeing the wine crates – mon dieu! I live in a rented place too – a story in itself – whilst we struggle to make some sense of what can be and will be lovely!!! It’s extraordinary though, isn’t it that all you need to say its a Cuisine is a sink? At least the commune who own the appartement I live in had the grace to give us a few cupboards!!! Bon courage ma brave! xx
You seriously didn’t throw them out! I give you another 12 months and you will be looking at those photos again thinking ‘hmmm Lindy was right’….
Get counting! 😉
@Lindy….. I can’t think you will ever read this but you had me hickupping with laughter AND nodding too – when you said you were eying the wine crates, it made me think of the photos I took when we visited our house and the things that clearly belonged to it but were gone when we moved in. Rubbish was left but the original enamel/metal labels nailed to the wooden inbuilt wine racks were all gone. All of them. I could prove the date with wines stored in the years 1932 etc….. The previous owners bought the house in 1970! I wonder if those stolen goods brought them happiness.
Ha ha I can believe it, someone took the insert out of our fireplace leaving us with a gaping hole – ditto for the rubbish……
Haaaaaa….. you know after 10 years living amongst the French not much is surprising me any longer. I MUST have had a very charmed and naïve AND innocent upbringing. Stealing those things just wasn’t an option in my life (still isn’t).
In your case they probably tore the fireplace out so that they had some place to put their rubbish in…. 🙂
Yup – our chap to the insert too!
Haa – no actually all the rubbish was burnt at the back, we had to giant mountains of ash to prove this. We had it from a very good source at the ‘advent’ apero party (almost entire hamlet squashed into a small garage knocking back vin chaud from two big vats and eating a mixture of sweet and savoury offerings as they arrived!) that the person who cleared the house took the insert as payment – fair trade I would say, as I am sure you know and Osyth can bear witness too, the amount of rubbish can be impressive. The lady who lived in our house was renowned for throwing nothing away and there were certain room that it was impossible to access, they had become large over filled cupboards. Where are you Kiki?
Lindy; I’m just outside of Paris, in the South-West, still Ile-de-France. But many say that I am clearly all-over-the-place, so maybe I should add that to my profile?! 🙂
PPS – love the title of this post – but now I cannot get the damn song out of my head – cheers Olyth
Sorry! It had to be done …. I made the mistake of finding the youtube clip and playing it so we are one in Ile de France the other in Auvergne innanely playing a beehived chanteuse in our heads!!
The video is no longer available due to a copyright breach – but we can still look up all the histrionics of the Red Shoes!
That may have something to do with territory. I can play it fine here and my husband has just tested it in Boston with no problem 🙁
Smile for a while and let’s be jolly……….
Life shouldn’t be so melancholy …..
Anyone under the age of 45 will think we’ve gone stark raving mad…..
Fine by me – after all along with the sunshine, there’s got to be a little rain sometimes 😉
I’ve seen worse, we bought worse, I am channelling the little sparrow …………..
Chapeau for what you have achieved 🙂
It’s a marvellous tool, digital photo editing………………………
The previous owner is a professional photographer – smoke and mirrors, I rest my case 😉
I think I would have been looking for hired killers to deal with your prevaricating owner….or arranging a booby trap with some of the heavier items….or – a surprise for him – a new trap door under his rubbish….
He has no idea how lucky he is to be intact, Helen 😉
Oh my goodness, what a heap of junk! You must have been overjoyed to get it all removed. Have you been working on the house since then? I would love to see how it’s coming along. (Sorry if I missed a post on that!)
We are working on the house – you haven’t missed anything (there are three posts on it so far the first in July and the second two in the past week). I will write another installment in 3 or 4 weeks time – it only gets worse 😀
I love this post! I love how you write and your language! Your picture is lovely next to the roses and yes happy Christmas indeed! You said you danced, magpie, sorry but I just love your language and had to read it again!! What a pile of “stuff” to contend with! Love all of the pictures!
So glad you enjoyed it. It gets worse …. 😉
I cannot imagine!
There’ll be another installment in two or three weeks … don’t want to peak to early 😀
Cant wait!
Like ZuZu in A Berkshire Tale, I do so love happy endings! You are truly very patient souls.
Cripes, even my personal wailing wall in the garage is tint in comparison to that mountain of crap! Holy Moses! Three cheers for Mr le Maire and his gang of willing hands.
It was epic …. bordering on biblical! 😀
The parting of the oceans, but with a sea of cardboard boxes 😀
Not tint, tiny. I think I should go to bed now.
I thought it was some sort of very hip north London gangster slang – ‘woah – that is tint!!’
London gangsta girl. Yeaaaah. *LIKE* 🙂
Love your written and even more love your rock walls….I can see past the junk and see the beauty….did you still have the beautiful turquoise chandelier…..its spectacular…it is a gem in the rough….your very lucky….and I am very jealous…..LOL
Sadly he took the chandelier (took all the lighting except a storm lantern which he seemingly couldn’t remove. You are totally on my wavelength – it will be beautiful. I was sad that he took the lights and mirrors but console myself that I shall be able to spend hours in flea markets, antique shops and best of all at auctions finding the right pieces to show off those walls! Thank you for seeing our poor battered beauty as she really is!
I am jealous, what a beauty you have bought…I was telling my husband last night how much fun it would be restoring the house how you wanted it…I can’t wait for the pictures as you move forward….kat
I feel pretty spoiled as it happens …. I’m so glad you are enjoying the posts. There will be another in 3 or 4 weeks – I’m playing them out a bit until we are up to present. There are a few bumps in the road until we get there 😉
as to be expected…bumps only make the smooth part of the journey all the more enjoyable…
When I’m stamping my foot like a horrible toddler my husband reminds me that it’s all just bumps in the road that make the smooth bits smoother – you two would get one!
LOL we just see life through the same rose colored glasses…LOL
Osyth; same here with ONE ceiling chandelier – they just couldn’t remove it – another one we paid for – everything else we wanted, promised to be left (they moved to an appartment) was gone. Karma – more powerful than any thoughts of revenge (we don’t do revenge)
We actually decided that whatever he wanted he should take. It’s hard to describe quite how mad this person is and we, and the town, shared a vision of being murdered in our beds if we put up any resistance. Sometimes one has to just accept that things are things and there will always be others 🙂
I love the writing, hate the junk. I’ve not seen worse, and obviously haven’t bought worse – guess I live a sheltered life. Anyway, bon courage.
I suspect there are few worse in truth, Arby – the pictures actually make it look better than it was after Mr Magpie had done his worst! There is junk and then is junk of biblical proportions. However, like beauty – perhaps it’s in the eye of the beholder – mirror, mirror, on the wall 😉
The patience of a Saint yourself Fiona.
OMG! How do you cope, it must be like living in another country 😉
Can you imagine the same scenario here in the U.K? I think not!!
Nope – I’m good but I can’t imagine that! Then again, the village councils tend to a bit less ahem hands on over the water as I recall 😉
Yes, if your house here was full of rubbish a couple of years ago, you would certainly find it still full of rubbish today because helping thy neighbour or do something worthwhile from a position of power are a long forgotten memory in this country for sure!
Long may it last here – I’m not at all convinced they appreciate what they have … like us all I suppose 🙂
I am so loving reading this as I was privileged to see La Maison Carré when I visited Fiona in 2014. I remember the rose which we pruned a little to tame it. Inside the potential was clear in spite of all the detritus. I am very happy for you both that progress is being made!
It’s baby steps Jenny, but there is more to show … my cadence for these pieces should be around one per month so I hope you will be psyched up and ready for the next in November. On a personal note – I remember so well our trip to Marcoles, our taming of the rose (now taken over by Christian Montin but hold that thought because I feel I may want to have some say about what goes in the flower beds even though they aren’t technically mine) and all the other laughs we had on that little holiday 🙂 Come back soon xx
vraiment épique… 🙂 coup de coeur ou de foudre?… btw, who’s that pretty lady?!… 😉
C’est moi … pas heureuse!
What a great read at 1:30 in the morning with jet lag 🙂
Some sort of delirium is certainly helpful 😉
Lovely story. What a great community
Thank you! They are pretty special – we are hugely fortunate.
Woo hoo. That is one impressive pile ‘o stuff. Good to know it’s not just Americans who get attached. Congratulations and hope this Christmas is even happier. What this last Christmas? Cheers —
It was last Christmas … 🙂 Thanks so much for the comment – have a great day, and don’t hang onto TOO much 😉
The previous owner is likely now sprouting a new hoarders nest.. You and hubby must’ve been sporting some mighty blisters from all that dancing !
I want to hug the mayor and vote for him ! Though neither are possible, please let him know that this american admires him..
Cute pun on the rose garden 😄 I used to sing along on the radio when it came out..
The boxes, the junk, 😨 WOW
I will pass your admiration to M’sier le Maire … he is actually quite an inspirational fellow and I will devote a post to him some time. As for the junk junkee ….. I know where he lives and I won’t be visiting!
Is that a blocked up passageway by the cellar steps ??? I was going to say if it were my project, I’d start pulling out stone 2′ from the cellar floor, every 2′ all the way around.. simply because the building was built in 1203.. I think that’s the year I read.. anyhow, so many centuries ago, could there be a tunnel for quick escape for residents in the medieval era ? Or a more modern body dump ? Jimmy Hoffa still hasn’t been found.. Geraldo would be first to help you there.. Is there a catacomb littered with bones of mislead doomsdayers, sealing themselves up inside, trying to escape Armageddon that hasn’t arrived yet ? There could be a city of bodies in tunnels that wind under.. Or could there be a box full of relics, a time capsule or maybe capsules from different eras in the walls ? Or treasure ?
Btw, if you start finding bodies, someone with a badge will be visiting Mr. Hoarder if they’re recent..
The passageway that isn’t is actually just where they have put stud walls in to make a bathroom … we are going to remove it and the pre-cast concrete blocks that are holding up the stairs (very unattractive). The bathroom will go upstairs and we hope to put a small WC into part of the bathroom space but want as much as possible reclaimed for the kitchen – a room close to your heart …. The opening to the cellar is going to have a glass door on it and we will light the cellar so that people can glimpse the ‘guts’ of the building which hopefull will not be revealing any petrified guts from a byegone era!!!
Sigh, I was so hoping for a catacomb or even a little tunnel.. grrrrr..
But there’s a lot of wall all the way around.. I can at least dream that a tattle tale stone will loosen and drop to reveal secrets from beyond !!!
I think its awesome that ppl will be able to glimpse a view of the cellar.. If I could, I’d like to see it all, it really is an amazing structure.. It’s one of those buildings you’d love to have the walls talk.. The history it’s stood thru, the ppl who have walked the floors..
It’s an extraordinary place. Quite unique in fact. There are a number of watchtowers intact in the area but ours fell down and the stone was pillaged and then someone rebuilt, on top of the existing remains, with the remaining stone the house that you see today. That was in 1830 and it is my mission to understand why they did it … what prompted it. Inside, according to the Mayor, it is changed downstairs from his childhood when it was 3 or four tiny rooms … now it is almost open plan with the exception of the bathroom which we will move but upstairs the original walls are in place and I will be writing a piece all about them in the next month or so. I’m a bit of a suspense fiend so I am only posting these once a month … otherwise I will catch up with where we are now too quickly. We hope to be finished by mid-September but that may not be achievable. And you never know – it may still have surprises in the cellar – it was after all the Tour Seignorale and originally inhabited by a priest …..
Oh my God! This looks so much like a Tim Burton movie! 😉 And am I happy that your husband didn’t´t let you go into the cellar – the spiders must have been Aragog-sized! Brrr! All this stuff and clutter – imagine having to get it out all on your own! One would have spent years and years! The roses though are pure delight! 😀 xxx
Honestly, I don’t think we would EVER have managed without the help the town gave us. We are so indebted to them and will do everything in our power to deliver them a place that delights them. I couldn’t bear it if they were whispering behind hands in the bar that we had wrecked the place … actually the Monsieur who had the place before provoked not whispers but cries of horror but that is another story! Xxx
That monsieur sounds intriguing… maybe you can give him a chapter of your book? 😉 xxx
He IS the book…. an absolute gift of a character 😉 xxxx
Oh and yes! Tim Burton! How I love him ….
OMG!!! Well I didn’t have to clear out a thing – so lucky girl I! Our barn was empty – totally bare. We found a lovely bedstead in the garden, a couple of doors that now swing happily on hinges on the ground floor and that was that. I think though that is something we Brits know we might find in France – some houses we looked at seems fit only for squatters and that the squatters were still in residence – not respectable middle-class Frenchie’s. Looks are deceiving sometimes.
The previous owner was un peu spéciale is the thing. He plays a rather significant role in my novel and I have had to be very careful in how I have placed it etc as I think he would sue in a heartbeat.
Reblogged this on Half Baked In Paradise and commented:
An occasional series chronicling the tale of the renovation of a former medieval watch-tower in southern France …. what do you call a beastly illusionist? If there is a word. That ….
Good effing grief. You are the saint. I like the two kinds of dance and the rose garden joke
With a pretty tarnished halo, I fear 😉 …. I’m glad you enjoyed the rose garden – this is still my favourite post title for that very reason!
Unreal. And here I’ve been complaining. When I bought my house the realtor insisted, after the promesse was signed, which gave me no legal remedy, that the seller clean out the mess. And she did. In the end, it was broom clean. The radiators and all other fixtures remained. In fact, we refurbished them, the radiators, at least, and they remain to this day. And poor MM, with his little mancave that looks remarkably like one of your « before » photos: he was told, in no uncertain terms, that that stuff was coming out of storage and would be put to use or sold or sent to the dump. Outside the mancave, all was to be clean and tidy. We’re nearly there, too. I had no clue that I was running up against centuries of French tradition, even French law. Yours is a cautionary tale for the unwary and a reminder to me to count my blessings.
My own purchase was not the usual story of seller-immo-buyer-notaire. I have never written of it here for two reasons …. one the previous denizen is seriously bonkers and not in a good way and two the story is a story in itself and the fictionalised version is being novellised so I don’t really want to give it away. So I think the law applied in our case but possibly doesn’t if you buy in the standard way. Sorry for the slightly cloak and dagger approach – at such time as I am in the same room with you, I will share privately. Mancave? You are too kind 😉
This is totally unreal – but I know totally possible and true…. On the other hand, I now want to live in Marcolèse 🙂 What a wonderful bunch of helpful people. These are human beings I want to canonize (English?. I have never in my 10yrs in France heard of such help. Would you kindly thank them, now, a few years later, from me. They have restored some faith in the human race!
I LOVE LOVE LOVE the rose bush. A climbing rose was for me the ultimate sacrifice when we left our Victorian house in Devon in 2005…. I cried and cried because I just couldn’t take it with me. Long may it live!
You ARE tall, very tall – I wish you well. You will have deserved everything good you wished for!
Marcolès is a magical place … the next time I go down I will make sure they have fans further afield. When the house is finished (2-3 years looks like a reasonable estimate at the moment), I hope you will come and enjoy what the village has to offer 🙂
After reading that, all I can think of saying is: merde!
Appropriate use of la langue verte there, Clive, very appropriate!! xx
All those days spent doing A level French, all those years ago, haven’t gone to waste 😉 xx
Impressed sir! Xx
I remember the important words xx
When we first arrived in Grenoble in December my husband commented that I was a little uncertain with my French having not used it for a year except when shouting at cyclists on the pavement, punks au chien leaving their probably drugged dogs as a live begging bowl on traffic islands and other motorists who cut me up. As you say, the important words 😉 xx
xx
You always deliver. You mentioned throwing off the red shoes and then there’s a picture of you wearing, of all things, white sand shoes (or whatever you call them)! I was expecting red. But you never disappoint and so wisely provided a fitting red-shoe finale.
Any excuse to reference Hans Christian Andersson, Powell and Pressburger and in this case both is too much for me to resist, Peggy! Those, I would call them plimsoles, are no longer white (3 and a half years on) and have a mighty hole in the toe but they are still my favourite footwear even though the dancing remains tenuous!
Ah yes, plimsolls. I forgot about them. Do you know Captain Beaky’s entertaining song ‘The Ginger Cat’? The cat wore plimsolls and a paper hat.
I had never heard that (although of course I knew Keith Michell well an dremember Captain Beaky) it is superb. Wonderful. Fabulous. Thank you so much (lucky to escape from that in plimsoles and a paper hat!)
Poor John and the kids had very definite ideas about what they’d listen to when travelling long distance in the car. When we drove between Canberra and Rosedale, there were three cassettes that seemed to be on continuous loop—Burl Ives, Captain Beaky and Tina the Ballerina. Captain beaky is the only one I can still listen to and thoroughly enjoy.
I’m amazed your still in one piece! Tina the Ballerina 😂😨
No one was happier than me when the cassette tape broke!
Not at all surprised! By the way, I have Burl Ives ‘Ugly Bug Ball’ stuck in my head on loop repeat. Thanks for that 😀
Wow! I am shocked by how many hoops were placed in front of you, but also by the support of your local ‘citizens’. Love conquers all, and all that … x
We are so fortunate with the town – they have been and still are extraordinarily supportive and tolerant of the amount of time it is all taking. As you know, I honestly believe that love really IS all we need x
Oh, the pictures, I’d forgotten just how much of a mess it was.. Still no catacomb disvovery or hidden bodies in walls ? Still loving that mayor 💛 what a nice man..
All is possible …. keep reading 😉 M. le Maire de Marcolès is one of the most amazing men I have ever met. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him by writing a eulogy on WordPress but he deserves all the love.
I want you to know that this post has brightened my day, which you know I needed 💛
What a nice byproduct of your history refresh 😊
That really does make me happy. I will email you a little later and before I hit the sack. You are in my thoughts, dear friend – really and truly in my thoughts
💛
Wow, what a story! Incredible what you had to endure from the previous owner, and also, how incredible that the locals helped fix the problem…what a magical place
I sometimes wonder if I have slipped into ‘Brigadoon’ … the people are amazingly generous and kind. The previous owner was truly despised by the locals which has probably helped us but is such a shame for them. We will restore there emblem and give them back a place to be proud of and hopefully further help their tourism (which apart from cows is pretty much all the industry in the area) on the way.
It’s a beautiful building and I can’t wait to see how you restore for the entire community!
Just looking at that mess makes me a little queasy – what a nightmare!
It gets worse …. far worse 😀
Ugh!!!
🙂
You are brave. But as long as you have red shoes, and red roses tended to on your behalf, you are golden 🙂 The photo of you smiling away with a red rose in your hand is lovely. Does it not say that you are equal to the task? Btw, I cannot help but eye the turquoise chandelier. It is gorgeous. If you are thinking of getting rid of it, I shall pop by (so what if I am four thousand miles away) and bag it! xx
thank you … the sparkling mayor has a way of relaxing a girl – the rose had been placed gently in my hand by him. My husband is entirely unmoved by my Mayorial crush … arrogant so and so!! Sadly the chandelier belonged to le Monsieur and he took it back. Of course he did. It’s pretty – he only left detritus in his wake. But if I see another I’ll snag it for you 😀 xx
A sparkling mayor *sighs. Such are the advantages of living in a pretty little village. And one who tucks roses into your palms…HB2 might be quietly ‘jealous’ (put it down to the flawed configuration of men – they are just too nonchalant). Alas, the death of a chandelier wish. It has given me the yearning for rummaging in an old antique shop in Europe. Kisses for the kind offer of keeping your eyes open for one. xx
I surely will (got to do something whilst my nonchelant husband ignores mayorial sparkles) … they are actually not too rare here thought the colour is rather covetous and I am confidnet I will be wiring you with details of a truffle to dive upon before long xx
The old patina too. My nose shall quiver with anticipation as my friend the squirrel’s when he espies a plump nut. 🙂 xx
Lovely post😍 You know you could have taken all of it to Lille, called it brocante et voila! Sold it all, wine boxes and all…. x 😂🤔😳
And sadly risked benign stalked and murdered in our beds by a truly bonkers madman. the pity is we just have to start collecting all over again … what a fabulous excuse for a brocante-fest!!!
Oh 😳
How awful for you! Well done for keeping your cool or should I say, dancing shoes tapping. Onwards…..x
We were buffered by the town. Don’t want to say too much because I am fictionalising the story in my novel of the story – but suffice to say that at one point the Maire said ‘he REALLY hates you. But don’t worry – he hates me more!!’ xx
Holy piles of stuffffff!!!! But there did appear to be a few treasures. lol – I think we are all wanting those wine crates 🙂
Oh my!
You know how I told you during the housing crash a few years ago several homes were abandoned? I heard stories of previous tenants trashing the home before they left, tearing down cabinets, ripping up carpeting or taking a knife and slashing countertops and appliances. Which is terrible, of course, but I think you had it worse. Though the stone walls behind the debris are lovely, and the townspeople helping — it’s just begging for a novelization and I’m so happy you’re complying.
The rosebush — *swoon*! The mayor tending it — *double swoon*!
Our Mayor is a serious old lady crush – believe me … and I’m not even a truly old lady yet!! Yup – he did get very angry … the novel will give the backstory (disguised of course) but in the end I had to concede that he is just what the French sweetly call ‘un peu special’ – in English that would be deranged and possibly dangerous. The bones are unpeturbed and three years on, although the house in many ways feels more exposed I can see how she wants, nay needs, to be put back together.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What a tale! How you persevered through all the chaos is beyond me. Thank goodness for the saintly administratrice!
She even has a Saintly name …. 😉
What a story, what a song, what delight in the details! Looking forward to more!
I love that song though I fear I’m being cursed by a few for getting it stick as an earworm!!
Wow, what a tale. How I envy you your maire and ouvriers in comparison to mine. The first takes his orders from the lady who runs the village shop and is overtly anti “foreigners” – ie anyone not born within 20kilometres of the village and our ouvriers do the minimum and then spend the rest of the time helping each other do up/maintain their houses using the equipment/ vehicles belonging to the mairie. However, leave all that grizzle on one side what a wonderful act of welcome for you. Despite the bordel you bought along with the house. Love the wood bottle crates. Hope you didn’t chuck ’em, there’s a good market for them.
There are a fair few Maires like that, sadly. We have so far been really fortunate both in Marcolès and in Champs sur Tarentaine where we kept a rented flat until September this year. That Maire married us in 2013 and remained a constant support. However, I know that there are others in the area who are less than helpful. The ouvriers presumably get well treated by the commune and have the respect of the Maire and Council in turn making them decent folk. It tends to work like that, I feel. The crates went the way of everything else. The previous occupant was quite disturbed and the Maire and we felt it was better not to hold onto anything that he might decide he wanted later on. So with regret we allowed them to go. Doubtless a beady eyed person will have born them off from the déchèterie but our consciences are clear and we feel safe to sleep in our beds. Actually once the Maire said dryly ‘yes, it is true M. D really hates you. But don’t worry. You are safe. He hates me even more!’
I am so enjoying these installments, but what you experienced was beyond nightmarish. The maire must have been seriously relieved that the previous occupant had left and that someone responsible was taking over.
Nessa, he was – I think the whole village was in some way scarred but these days they seem quite well healed!
It is good to see you smiling through all of this!
It was more of a grimace some of the time!!
I understand.
I’m not surprised you fell in love Osyth. The spirit of a beautiful community to support you can’t be bought and you didn’t need your pot of gold to experience it. You’ve transported me back to being about 7 years old when I watched The Red Shoes for the first time – in black and white of course! I can still remember that feeling of fear when the red shoes took possession!
I absolutely LOVE Powell and Pressburger and The Red Shoes was one of their finest. The community ARE a pot of gold. They humble me with their kindness 🙂 xx
I love all those old movies and Xmas is always a great opportunity to remind myself how brilliant they were! Yes – you’ve definitely found some brilliance within that community Osyth! How wonderful xx
This reminds me of my late in laws house. I don’t know how they fitted so much into a three bedroom terraced house. The removers had to go to the dump twice! You look lovely with your rose. I have been on antibiotics for a UTI – the cure was worse than the illness. Some migraines but will soon catch up on your blogs. Merry Christmas, my dear friend. 🌹🌹🌹
Oh Kerry! I am so sorry you have been felled by a so-called cure. UTIs are bad enough without having over-zealous side effects of the anti-B’s to contend with. Get well, you have to be well …. I hate it when my friends are off-par. Thank you for noticing the me with rose … I was so delighted with it and I did try to look elegant despite being in scruffs and not a pretty cocktail dress! Just you take care of you and don’t worry about silly old blog posts. And have a wonderfully happy and relaxed Christmas followed by the best of all things yet to come at New Year. I wish you dreams you don’t dare to dream coming true because you are a true and dear person who deserves all the good things you wish for xx
Mwah!!!!😍