Decisions and a disaster

It’s been a surprisingly busy week for me. I had my first French class, took Josephine (my Jeep) in for a service and went to look at some potential apartment purchases in Carcassonne. And of course, managed all things pool side. You will all be pleased to know that the bloody thing is now full and pump activated and has even had its first ‘swimmers’, Callum, Max and Arry. I did try to keep Arry out of the water, not least because the deck isn’t been constructed yet and there are piles of terre everywhere but his hysterical screeching (boys needed saving) dictated otherwise. I was assured that the temperature wasn’t that bad but it is October after all. Still, I am relieved that the flipping thing is finally sorted and I can now concentrate on the landscaping. The lovely Lionel assures me that he can get the fence done soon, I am a little concerned that the Mayor might notice we don’t have one yet.

I made it to my French class without any directional issues. There were only two of us which was a little disappointing but the teacher has assured us that numbers will increase. I honestly didn’t think my French was that bad but two hours later, I thought my brain was going to explode. I know it was only the first session and the other lady had been there before but I couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed about just how bad my grammar actually is. Mind you, it makes one realise just how hard the English language must be to learn – one word can have so many connotations depending on where and how you stick it in a sentence.

One of the things that I still can’t get used to in France is the lunch hour, or perhaps I should say, the lunch hours (12 to 2 pm). Having dropped Josephine off for her yearly service at the swanky Mercedes-Jeep centre in Carcassonne and told to come back a couple of hours later only to find that no-one was actually working at 12.05 p.m, it was a little annoying to have to go back in for a third time. Luckily Max, my nephew, enjoys driving and I did get a very clean Jeep for our troubles. They even smoothed out my little dent on the passenger door with no charge so all is forgiven.

I finally got to go apartment hunting this week. Not being all that familiar with the town centre, I was embarrassingly late for my appointment with Lesa, the immobilier. Grovelled apologies made, I went off to view a couple of very different properties to get an idea of what sort of thing I could afford. I did like the first one very much, it was small but perfectly located with parking, a wine bar and a coffee shop at one’s fingertips. Although the second one had a beautiful terrace overlooking a little square, I found it too big for the kind of rental I was thinking of. A lot to think about and I am glad that I have the wonderfully knowledgeable and effervescent Lesa to help me. I did take a stroll around the rues after we parted ways just to improve my bearings for the next time however!

I had a little disaster the other morning. I broke the piece of Poole pottery that Tony had bought for me some years ago. I didn’t close the latch on the bathroom window properly so it blew open and the vase took a dive. Amazingly it managed to break into large bits with the bottom half still intact, all of which Mumo has managed to glue back. There are a few tiny fragments missing (mainly because Madame Antonie the cleaning lady swept them away) so we had the idea of repairing it ‘Kintsugi’ style where you paint over the cracks with gold paint. This Japanese art of fixing broken pottery is said to symbolise acceptance of change and flaws rather than throw away the history of an object. Very fitting I think……

“It symbolizes how we must incorporate our wounds into who we are, rather than try to merely repair and forget them.” (David Wong)