Thursday, May 7, 2015

We meet a Transyvanian barista and the Pyrenees are spectacular


Wednesday 6 May 2015
Fresh 19 degrees sunny
Get email from Russian in response to my request to prove that he will be receiving the funds and asking as to their provenance.  He has replied that he does not see why I need proof of funds or to know where they come from.   We are now convinced there is something very dodgy about him.  I speak to the other interested clients in the afternoon and they are very happy that they are back in with a chance to buy and say they will come back tomorrow with an offer.

We ponder why the Russians would have driven over here, twice, in their car.  Perhaps they were dropping ‘stuff’ off on the way?

OH is in extra bad mood as the main computer will not switch on and he has all his music stored on it.  He has an unreasonable hatred of Apple iCloud and is now heartily regretting his luddite tendencies.  He is also still annoyed with WF for being unemployed and the internet and phone still being offline.

We set off in stony silence therefore, to see the large property with rental units, far south into the mountains.  The day is stunningly beautiful with the snow on the mountains and the azure blue of the skies and we stop for coffee in a town just before the property and are given a great cup of cappuccino by a guy who, it transpires, is from Transylvania.  He says the French are xenophobes and never come into his bar.  He gets all other nationalities coming in regularly.  He is a great lover of coffee and shows us the beans which he buys from Italy.  They are rich and brown and emit a heavenly aroma.  He says French burn their beans to a black colour which is why French coffee is always acrid.  He says his wife is a dentist.  Fortunately OH restrains himself from making any comment about fangs or blood.

Suitably fortified, we head to the property and it is in a valley with the most stunning views of the mountains.  There is the main house with a large three bedroomed gite and a separate three bedroomed gite.  Their potager is a thing of beauty and not a weed in sight.  We have lunch in Leclerc cafeteria which has a staffing policy of employing people who major in being surly.  If I had internet, I would be giving them extremely unfavourable feedback.  Crème brulée was excellent.

Back home and then down to the rental units where I attempt to do some more work.  OH comes down after a couple of hours and shouts at WF over Skype and then goes fishing.  I go to drop off keys from yesterday’s abortive visits at my colleague’s house.  She offers me wine and crisps and her little girl is the most ravishing creature – like Leslie Caron.  Her husband comes home and is rather disagreeable because we are drinking wine and eating crisps and no food is ready.  I leave them to it and get home and the house is a pigsty and the dog has not been walked.  I am also now in bad mood.  I am getting a cleaner.