Sunday, November 22, 2015

Chateaux and aggro

Saturday 21 November 2015

Cold with showers and double rainbows 9 degrees

Awoke to rain hammering on the gravel and rooftops.  Felt very chilly outdoors.  Morning somehow passed very quickly and then all too soon it was time to head out into the rain and meet two English ladies who had come to see a the big chateau with the terrifying amount of work.  Talked to lovely lady from the group who is going to set up the first regional crafting group.  Very exciting times.

I got there at the same time as them and spotted them hiding in their 60 reg car.  We ran to a bar and got soaked in the 20 yard dash.  One lady was hoarse.  The other looked exhausted.  For some reason, they had not looked at the map and thought the rv was just 45 minutes from Bordeaux, where they had to return for their hotel booking.  It is easily two hours...  they had a sandwich and we talked about this region and what it has to offer.  The bar was full of locals, watching sport on the telly.  Town was deserted.

The sun came out briefly and we headed off to the chateau.  It was spectacularly backlit with a ray of sunshine in the pitch black skies.  They were thrilled as we drove up.  More nervous people would have thought it looked like something out of a Hammer Horror film.  The lady had moved out and her son had managed to remove a surprising amount of stuff.  They took pictures of the falling down ceilings and the rising damp and the cracked plaster. They talked about knocking out walls and changing rooms and I was thinking they would need half a million to do all they wanted to do.  An hour and a half went by and we went to see another house which has no work to do but they were still very taken by the first one. Four thirty came around and they left for the long journey back home and I had a hot chocolate.

Back home and walked dog.  He was very bored at the shortness of the walk and we had a barking competition and he won and then had a snore.

Watched Strictly from Blackpool.  It was stunning.  There is something about Blackpool which stimulates people to produce their best efforts.  I went on Instagram afterwards and noticed that one woman had made really nasty comments about Peter AndrĂ©.  I said she was being negative.  She responded with the most virulent comments - abusive, spiteful, nasty.  Others jumped in and she was equally awful.  I had assumed that she was a foul mouthed adolescent but no, she was 42 years old.  Things got a bit heated and my account was temporarily suspended.  I protested.  When I got back in, she had been obliged to remove her most offensive comments.

To bed late and oblivion.