Wednesday 11 February 2015
2 degrees rising to 12
sun at last feeling like it has some warmth
Retook mandate on a property which I had had some time ago. Perched on a ridge and with a fabulous garden and a swimming pool which is in great condition, it is inhabited by a lady from Andalusia and her Portuguese husband. We speak of Ronda and she tells me how much building has gone on there, that the last time she went with her sister, it was an hour before they managed to find the house in which she had lived the first 15 years of her life. She spent many years in France, as did I, and she said she found the French very 'closed' - meaning not open to relationships with others and also with the meaning of not entertaining new ideas. I asked her why the Spanish are so different - why do they all live in apartments, even in the middle of the country where there are acres of land - why they all promenade in the evening - why no one goes to bed before the early hours of the morning? She didn't know but said that everyone knew everyone in a town and that could only be a good thing. We laughed and agreed that the Spanish were not at all, in any way, like the French.
Their house is not so lovely from the inside and has the most villainous artex, in a selection of patterns for the visitor to detest, over all of the interior walls. Not sure I could live with it. It transpires that my clients for tomorrow have indeed seen the house and the artex was a big no-no.
Back home for quick lunch then had to take the utility vehicle for new tyres before the MOT tomorrow. A long wait, horrible coffee from the machine, and an interesting article on how people in French kitchens are abused, treated like dogs, made to drink water that they have over salted, kicked up the bums and punched. Shame on you Joel Robuchon!
Finally liberated and went to take back a Livebox to the phone shop, then tried to get a certificate out of the social security office for an English couple who have gone back to England and are still officially in the system because they have not asked for this certificate. You have to write a letter - text the man, who we were great friends with and give him the words to write. Have good coffee and doughnut in a local store and watch the locals drinking wine and beer and small children warming up on hot chocolate and cakes. Back to our town and pick up some keys for the visit tomorrow. Look at the car and realise the poor MOT man will not be able to see a thing so have to take it to the car wash and blast off the mud and crud.
Back home and OH is making a throw it all in the pot casserole. Rabbit and red wine that was too horrible to drink with some chili. Not his most successful dish.