We spent the public holiday (raining with a chance of showers) inside the barn, working away on our separate projects: G applying coat # 2 of vitrificateur to the stairs; me painting shutters and coat # 2 on the shower room door. Despite the grey day, the light inside was amazing - and the new floor enhances it, which is good.
The driveway alongside the barn was jam-packed with cars, since Mr and Mme across the road were the focus of this year's festivities. Over the course of the day, various family members wandered past and stopped to say hello or introduce themselves: Jean-Marie, his wife, his son (and friend) and his daughters...
At 12, the noon bells in Chabrignac let us know that it was lunchtime, and Jean-Marie promptly appeared at our front door to invite us to join them for lunch. We were paint spattered and rather enjoying our quiet companionship, so politely refused... Besides, we had Plans for lunch - a picnic on the the floor of the barn - baguette and chêvre, tomatoes and carrots, and tea!
In the late afternoon, once the painting was done, we tackled the dépendance. First, G and I took turns up the ladder, chopping away the dead remains of the lierre that had infiltrated the roof. It was dangerous work, because the heavy slate roof tiles were sliding off, so it was important not not stand below them. Then we attached a string and rope to the eyelets of the enormous tarpaulin (bâche) and tied a heavy metal thing to the free end. G threw the metal thing over the roof and then, climbing up on the high bank opposite the dépendance, I pulled and G pushed, until we had the heavy tarp up and over the crest of the roof. At one point, the string broke under tension and I ended up flat on my back in the long grass. Think Mo of the 3 Stooges.
Jean-Marie couldn't resist the temptation to join in and together we wrestled the tarpaulin into submission. By this time, the rain had begun in earnest and the wind was getting up, so picture the three of us in the driving rain, struggling with ropes and flapping corners... In the end, though we three were soaked through and cold, we had the little building wrapped like a big green Christmas gift, and it was gratifying to see the rain sliding off the tarp.
We got home at nine that night, heated up some leftovers, and reflected on a very successful Labour Day.
Friday, our last day, was supposed to be a day off. We'd imagined mooching about the Troc, window shopping for a fridge or a bed, stopping for a coffee, staring into space... Like all best-laid plans, it did not exactly turn out like that. We must have driven miles. We collected the basin, returned the paint, bought an old kitchen table and a little armchair from Troc (two separate trips; an hour round trip each time)...We found coir matting for the front door and woodworm treatment for the old lintels too. We even managed to squeeze in a visit to Joan and Boris, which was lovely.
Saturday, we woke extra early, packed up and and were at the barn at seven. Dressed for travelling, there I was, balancing on a chair held steady by G, painting the two oak lintels in the living room of the barn (that we suspect of having woodworm past or present). Then the military operation swung into action. G dropped me in town, so I could do some shopping (for gifts for offspring), while he headed off to Troc to get some 'Van Gogh' reed-matting chairs that we'd spotted the day before. He had to get them packed away in the barn, say goodbye to neighbours, check out from the accommodation and be back at the hire car place before they closed at 12. (Amazing what one man will do to avoid a bit of shopping.)
We met at the hire car place, caught the train to Paris, then the flight to Sydney via Dubai...
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