Tuesday 1 July 2015
30 degrees cloudy at first then sun later. Very high humidity
Up and showered for 9 am and ready for the water meter people to ring and summon me. Spend a couple of hours filing papers and tidying up the chaos in the kitchen. Try and put horrible emails from absolutely infuriated seller out of my mind. Being called unprofessional and in cahoots with with the US woman is so unfair. She obviously never intended signing the release letter. After reflection, and much tidying up, send the copy emails over to the head of the agency and ask for back up. She has gone to Paris to see The Who and the phone connection is terrible. She says she will think up a plan of action and get back to me by tomorrow morning.
The phone rings and it is the water people so I go down town and the man is late and I sit on a concrete bench and wait. A man approaches, slowly, with the aid of two walking sticks. A number of cars pass by, people go into the laundrette, someone tries to park. The man gets closer. People are on the balcony of the Mairie, watering the flower boxes and baskets and showering the unwary below. The man gets level with me and pauses. Do you know all the varieties of apples? He enquires. I say that I do not. Do I know the apple called Reinette? Yes I do. How do you call it? I say I call it a Reinette. He says no, you peel it with a knife. It is a pun on words appeller versus eppeller. Appeller to call and Eppeller to peel. He loves word games like this. Another one of his favourites is to present you with a piece of folded paper and ask you which tree it resembles - the answer is poplar - peuplier. The paper is slightly folded - un peu plié. I say the weather is very hot at the moment, n'est pas. He looks at me as if I am an idiot and says '97 years old' and staggers off to perplex the boulangère.
My renters appear, bearing cake and we have a chat and they say they would be interested in having a look at the rental unit which we are doing up. The water man also arrives so I leave him to attach the meter and show the people the new flat. They enquire about price and then go and so does the meter man and I go back home and pick up my phone, which I had forgotten, and then out to see a 1980's house with gite and pool.
The sun has come out and it is great for the pictures. The house is classic style for its village and has a small outbuilding which has been translated into a gite however the bedroom is a mezzanine and up a ladder and not much head room. Fortunately the building is well insulated or the heat would make you pass out. The main house is chock a block with all of her stuff and a massive, balefully glaring wooden seagull is suspended from the already low ceiling. Its eyes follow me around the room. The lady has stuck on decorative laminate wooden panels to the sides of the cheminée. They clash stylistically with the rough rendering on the actual fire breast. She offers me some Perrier which I gratefully accept and then talks non stop to such an extent I have trouble getting out of there and back home. I am starving and then exhausted and climb into bed at 2.30 and to my shock, it is 6.30 when I wake up. Humid heat just saps your strength and energy. Am covered in mosquito bites and they itch like mad. Apply Sudocrème. Marvellous stuff.
Have bacon, beans and tomatoes for supper and have a shower and sit down and watch two ladies battling it out on the delightfully green turf of Wimbledon. OH fidgets and says he is worried there will be a leak at the flat and why didn't I turn off the meter and I say for heavens sake stop worrying. He goes out and decides to check to see if all is OK. Peace and thwacking of many tennis balls. The phone rings and it is OH and there is a huge leak and 30m3 of litres of water have been used up and I need to ring the plumber. I ring him and the darling says he will come out so I grab the neighbours key and get down town to find that the plumber has managed to turn off the water and we then mop out the neighbours flat and bring back her soaking wet stuff. She is in Limoges and hasn't been at the flat in a while but it is for sale. Her ceiling is dripping wet. I wonder how much has gone into the ground floor dry cleaners shop? It could well have soaked all her clients clothing. It may also have tripped out her electric - our neighbours electric isn't working any more. OH says we shouldn't tell the neighbour until after we have signed on our flat on Friday and I say if it has gone into the dry cleaners, then the owner is going to assume that it has come from the neighbours flat and in any case, we need to declare the leak tomorrow. OH goes on and on about it and I go to bed to get some peace and quiet and he stays up until the early hours and watches the England lady's football team knock themselves out of the competition by putting an own goal past their goalie in injury time.
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