After our exertions of the previous week, I awoke on Sunday
so stiff that I could barely get myself out of bed. Apart from being completely
unfit, we had done a lot of walking on cobbles in unsuitable shoes and I was
now paying the price. Fortunately the stiffness wore off quite soon and I was
quickly back to normal.
We started the new week on a high note as it was the day we
went to sign all the preliminary papers for our house. A few weeks earlier we
had read a report in the paper about the notaires complaining about the number
of copies they have to make of everything, and we realised why. About forty
pages of all the details of the house and the sale were read out to us and then
we had to sign some and initial others and then we were told that a copy would
be sent to us too. It arrived by post the next day, and not one, but two copies
came, one in my name and another for Neels. Forty pages each of double sided
copies! Ridiculous! And if a syndicate buys a house together for their mutual
use, a separate copy would be sent to each of them too, even if they were
husbands and wives. However, nothing could dampen our feelings at having signed
such an important document - excitement,
anxiety, joy and fear all swirled around in our minds at the huge step we were
taking but overall joy won.
We had discovered an enormous second hand goods shop in town
which only opens once a week for sales and as that day was Wednesday, we
thought it would be a good idea to visit it and see what they had on the floor,
and see what the prices were like. The shop is really huge and sells everything
one could possibly imagine as well as quite a few things that we couldn’t
imagine a use for. There were tables and tables of glass, crockery and cutlery;
racks, disappearing into the back of the shop, full of men’s, women’s and children’s
clothes; toys; gardening equipment; brooms, brushes and dustpans; furniture of
all sorts; elbow, knee and arm protectors for intrepid learner skateboarders,
and even snow skis. And probably, as they like to say on lists of sale goods, ‘
other items too numerous to mention’. It was quite sad to see some huge solid
wood , carved wardrobes or side boards, that must have come from some large
mansions and been disposed of as too big for a modern house. And being sold for
a nominal price. All that wonderful work being just given away!
Every now and again, perhaps once a month or so, a
restaurant in Vabre Tizac does a special fish and chips lunch for the British
ex-pats who live in the area. Friday was one of those days so the four of us
went off at the appointed time and found quite a gathering of people already
chattering in the bar. A few of them we had already met but others were new
acquaintances, but everyone was friendly and by the time we sat down to eat we
had spoken to most people. We all sat at a long table which made conversation a
little difficult and the noise level rose in direct proportion to the amount
the level of wine dropped in the carafes! Everyone seemed to have a good time
and the fish was quite delicious. There was also a salad starter, cheese and
dessert, followed by coffee. Far more than our normal midday meal and most
people seemed a little sleepy at the end of it.
The next morning we were up at a reasonably early hour ready
to hit the long road down to Peyrusse Vieille in the Gers, and beyond, to
collect some furniture we had bought from a couple who were selling up and
returning to the UK. On the way down we drove along one of the avenues of trees
that we love so much. There has been much discussion lately about these trees
and some people say that they are dangerous and should be chopped down. We say
that people should be taught to drive more carefully and there would be fewer
accidents. The French are not bad drivers on the whole, and respect the speed
limits and things like that so if they were made to slow down for the trees,
perhaps the trees could stay.
Our very good friends who have looked after our car for the
last five years, during the months that we are not in France, had offered to
help us with transport, so after calling in at their house we carried on in
convoy. Over the next three hours, the men worked like Trojans dismantling
things and collecting everything together so that we could pack the cars.
Somehow, it all went in and we returned to Peyrusse Vieille for the night. The
next morning we were back on the road again, still in convoy, all the way to
the new house where everything was again unpacked and stacked in the house. I
cannot believe that so much came out of only two cars! Because, although we had
agreed to take a certain number of items, when it actually came to the day, we found
more and more bits and pieces being pressed upon us until we despaired of ever getting
the doors closed in the cars! When we finally unpacked at journey’s end, we
couldn’t believe the amount we had got packed in. The lady of the house kept on
asking if we had ‘enough ‘padding’ around various corners of boxes and
cupboards and so on, and then producing something to use for this purpose. When
we sorted it all out after the trip, we found that we had been given three
brand new pillows; four duvets of varying sizes; about eight lovely thick
blankets and a whole bag of assorted sheets. To say nothing of the boxful of
handy tools, including an electric drill, and numerous fittings and cables all
of which will come in very handy in the future.
On the way home, we drove through a town called Septfonds
which was having a huge ‘Vide Grenier’ which stretched up and down the pavement
for quite a distance a swell as into the Community Hall. There were a lot of
items going cheaply that could have been put to good use, but sadly, the cars
were full to bursting. While we enjoyed a cup of coffee there, there was a
sudden commotion as a car pulled up and out climbed the most extraordinary
character. None of us were fluent enough to understand all the banter, but the
fellow looked so strange that I had to take a picture of him. He reminded us of
the students who dress up for Rag Week to collect funds from passing motorists,
but this chap was the only one in fancy dress and didn’t seem to be collecting.
Very odd indeed. Vive la France!
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