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Vive la France! Finally! It seems we have been operated on various countdowns, so it does feel good to have touched down, quite literally. Munch declared, ‘I’m so excited to be in France!’
The kids travelled well, all things considered. A smooth flight, in every sense. Roissy is still perhaps one of the most unpleasant airports I’ve had the misfortune to pass through. Charles De Gaule, sorry. It’s in serious need of some over-enthusiastic bulldozing. We collected the car, again all very easy, and, if one ignores my 40 minute detour around the northern ring road of Paris, we arrived safely in Thiersanville at around 11.30 am on Saturday. About 24 hours of travel, door-to-door.
Two nights ‘chez les Gramps’, and then the drive down to Saulzais. The kids were again delightful and slept the whole way – a bonus we couldn’t have expected. We drove past our little house, all anticipation and excitement, to discover that the guy we met with last year and arranged for over 5000 euros worth of work (including, most obviously as one drives past the house, a new front door) has done, in the vernacular, squat. On closer inspection we discovered that this initial impression was indeed accurate. Worse, the mason, with whom he was supposed to coordinate work on the rear of the house to knock a hole in a wall and fit double French windows, has completed his half of the job. That is to say, we have a very neatly finished space where French windows will no doubt be very attractive at some future time. For now, though, we have just a hole in the wall, open to the elements and, indeed, to anyone who fancies popping in to visit. I would name and shame this menusier if I thought any of his potential customers would be reading this. As I think that is highly unlikely, I shan’t bother.
We spent yesterday doing the tour of DIY places, hiring a wall-paper stripper and buying paint, dustbin liners, mops and all that kind of paraphernalia. I was suitably keen to get going so managed to strip a couple of walls in what will be the kids’ bedroom last night. The garden is a jungle, the wiring is scarily antique, the loft isn’t insulated or floored yet and there’s a chimney to knock down and block up, buy hey, it’s home.
The kids travelled well, all things considered. A smooth flight, in every sense. Roissy is still perhaps one of the most unpleasant airports I’ve had the misfortune to pass through. Charles De Gaule, sorry. It’s in serious need of some over-enthusiastic bulldozing. We collected the car, again all very easy, and, if one ignores my 40 minute detour around the northern ring road of Paris, we arrived safely in Thiersanville at around 11.30 am on Saturday. About 24 hours of travel, door-to-door.
Two nights ‘chez les Gramps’, and then the drive down to Saulzais. The kids were again delightful and slept the whole way – a bonus we couldn’t have expected. We drove past our little house, all anticipation and excitement, to discover that the guy we met with last year and arranged for over 5000 euros worth of work (including, most obviously as one drives past the house, a new front door) has done, in the vernacular, squat. On closer inspection we discovered that this initial impression was indeed accurate. Worse, the mason, with whom he was supposed to coordinate work on the rear of the house to knock a hole in a wall and fit double French windows, has completed his half of the job. That is to say, we have a very neatly finished space where French windows will no doubt be very attractive at some future time. For now, though, we have just a hole in the wall, open to the elements and, indeed, to anyone who fancies popping in to visit. I would name and shame this menusier if I thought any of his potential customers would be reading this. As I think that is highly unlikely, I shan’t bother.
We spent yesterday doing the tour of DIY places, hiring a wall-paper stripper and buying paint, dustbin liners, mops and all that kind of paraphernalia. I was suitably keen to get going so managed to strip a couple of walls in what will be the kids’ bedroom last night. The garden is a jungle, the wiring is scarily antique, the loft isn’t insulated or floored yet and there’s a chimney to knock down and block up, buy hey, it’s home.
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