Old haunts revisited

After many weeks, plusiers visits to SFR phone shops, and much testing of our rubbish language skills, we have finally got the better of Mr. C****y’s* French cousin, and now have a reliable connection.  We hope.

We’re now halfway between Perigueux and Bordeaux, having spent the last week or so visiting the area around Charroux and Chatain (where I lived from 1997-1999).  Seeing old friends and neighbours was lovely, and we were looked after very well, but – maybe because it seemed to rain most of the time - it did take me back to the struggles of living in an old house in France, and not entirely in a good way.  I have a lot of admiration for people who stick it out, learn the language and become, if not quite French, at least an important part of their local community.  I've been feeling quite sad that I didn't manage to do that myself. 

On the plus side, the van has proved to be watertight, as long as we remember to shut the air vents.  We only forgot once, and I don’t think we’ll do it again.

Going to Bonnezac almost made me cry too:  most of the house we lived in has been renovated now, but the part we were in is unchanged, even down to the three-foot-high shallow stone sink I used to wash up in – I had a twinge in my back just looking at it.  

 I also remembered Nathan and Laura, aged 8 and 5, arriving there and just coping with everything from beetles in their beds to being thrown into the French school system without speaking a word of the language.   I was – and am – very proud of them.

My barn, just across the lane from the house, has held up about as well as my French.  Once the most magnificent building in Bonnezac, it’s now not much more than a heap of very nice stone in a field.    

 

The field is bigger than I remembered, though, and apparently we could get planning permission for a whole estate of retirement bungalows – something to think about for the future? 

After all this dank rural stuff, we needed a bit of city time so we headed for Limoges, famous for its pottery.  Asking for somewhere open late, we were directed to a nightclub down a dark alley.  We were a bit confused to be handed a towel each and a locker key, but it seems that in Limoges, what you really want after your disco is a sauna. We didn't think too much of it, and the music wasn’t too bad – no Hi Ho Silver Lining anyway – but when we followed people upstairs we found that the sauna was really rather rude.   Obviously, we made our excuses and left...  

We spent today in Perigueux, wandering round the medieval streets and – naturellement – visiting a branch of SFR, where we discovered that not every SFR employee is an Anglais-hating sadist, and also why everyone seems to smile when Mike says his name – Michael Jones is apparently a rather saucy pirate in a TV show.  How fitting.

Tomorrow we’re heading for Mimizan, hoping for surf and sunshine. 

Much love to you all,

Madame Spanneur

 * Mr C****y is Susie & Nick’s alarm clock.  All extremely annoying technological/electrical gadgets – such as our dongle - are related to him. I did try to explain this to the SFR employee, but rather predictably I had to give up.