Things are hotting up!

Wednesday 25 March 2015

Cold and showery 8 degrees

Had some trouble getting started today.  Looked through very long list of things to do and did not feel motivated at all.  Rain.  Looked through the window and told the weather to buck up or no one was going to buy holiday homes.  Put the calor gas fire on and the dog promptly came and blocked the heat.  Moved the dog.  Drank tea.  OH went down to the rental unit.  

The phone rang three times.  People were responding to the advert I had put out last night, asking for beautiful homes with gites and lots of land.  The budget was the honey.  The first respondent lived down in the mountains but it sounded promising, large land, lovely house (he sent pictures) and outbuildings and not too expensive.  He told me the name of the agency he was with and it turned out that they don't actually have any ads on their site. They must pass them on the various property portals.  I couldn't find his house on there either. Not much competition for me then!  Arranged to see him Friday.

The second caller had what he described as a remarkable house in a remarkable position. The price he wanted was also remarkable and his house would have to have its feet in the ocean to realise such a sum.  I said I would keep it on file.  May pass it onto my colleague and see if she can beat a more reasonable price out of him.

The third caller lived in a place so remote that his phone signal kept on cutting out and when I finally did manage to find the ad he had put out, it transpired that it was at least an hour from the nearest shops and my client's llamas would feel they were back in Peru, the mountains were so huge.  My clients live in the South East of the UK.  There is changing landscape and there is changing landscape, but this place would have been a change too far.

I ring some places we found on the Internet yesterday and book in a fabulous one for Sunday.  I am under the cosh to find something as the client arrives on Wednesday and the house he was going to buy is the one taken by my lovely Russian clients.

Towards midday I head down town and meet up with a colleague who shows me a house in centre of town.  It is very ugly from the outside but a complete delight once you are over the front door, with clean modern interior, double garage and enclosed garden.  I recognise the owner as she works on the tills in a local supermarket.  Her husband comes in during the visit and he is extraordinarily beautiful in a Michelangelo way.  He is followed by his two little angels.  They smile shyly and twirl their hair.  I say I will be back tomorrow. Unfortunately I may have OH in tow (;)  

I then take my colleague to a house which is up there with the most visited on my list. Constructed in the 1950's, it is of unlovely appearance and is over 250m2.  It is also divided into two separate apartments and has the most villainous wallpaper I have ever seen.  Dark in colour and wildly beflowered.  Heavy, head cracking, wooden light fittings complete the look.   We go around and my colleague is very enthusiastic and much better at re-imagining the interior than either myself or my many clients.  Make mental notes.

Back home and take the dog for a walk.  The rain has eased up and we are at the head of a very muddy lane, when the dog shoots off down it.  I tear after him and he completely ignores me for at least half a kilometre.  I am too breathless to shout at him and wave my brolly within an inch of his head in such a way that he realises that he has been very bad. He does it again within 15 minutes.   Get back home in very bad mood and tell OH I am not walking that stupid dog any more.

The owner of the house which my Russians are buying rings and says that there is only one house that is suitable for them and if they can't move quickly, they will lose it and then they may have to think twice about selling.  Following the on going nightmare that is the would be buyers and the house down town, I now know that she can't change her mind but I say nothing.  Promise to kick the notaries into shape with great rapidity.  Ring notary who says it is the other notary who is preparing the initial reservation contract.  Ask her to kick the other notaries butt.  The diagnostics guy rings and says the house may be in a flood zone. (it wasn't) and the owner prepares a long list of things to include in sale.  Either the Russians need to come back next week to sign, or they need to sign remotely.  The heat is on.  My neck starts to itch and I realise the eczema is back.  Oh the joys of estate agency.

I have another message on the phone relating to a house but the caller hasn't left their number so I have to ring through all the incoming numbers on the phone before I finally get to him.  It takes some time as some of them are pleased to hear from me and some have an axe to grind.  It turns out to be happenstance.  Yesterday, when I went to see the vast property with all the rooms, the owner had said that his neighbour was also selling, and had given me the name and the town.  I had then rang all four people of this name and found the seller who said she had it on exclusive contract with a friend and wasn't interested in selling with me.  The person who rang me today is an uncle and he is also thinking of selling his house in my nearby town.  Booked him in for Monday.  Must change answerphone message to insist people leave their telephone numbers.  I am not psychic.

Make chili and sort out the running order for tomorrow's visits.  Talk to two people who want to rent our little rental unit over the summer and get them booked in.  Feel very tired and hit the hay early.

Accountants, thin doors and badly behaved trolley type of day...

Monday 23 March 2015

Cool and showery 11 degrees

My accountant's emails were starting to sound desperate so I had booked in a visit to see her today.  Over here, the financial year end is December and the accounts are supposed to be in by the end of March.  I find that by cutting it short, the work gets done after the rush and I get the results very quickly.  Note that she had not been desperate enough to actually pick up the phone and ring me.  That happens when you get to the last 7 days.

In the early days, when I was earning stellar amounts of money, I used to be seen by a partner.  When hard times hit, I got busted down to an accounting clerk and we have stayed together ever since.  S is on the telephone when I arrive so I chat to the receptionist N who is a lovely lady and gets slightly fatter every year.  It has been eleven years and she is now filling the chair.  She eases herself out, offers a coffee and settles me into a spartan room with views of the car park.

I have a problem in that I am about to have a good year.  Good years mean I will suffer immense amounts of social charges.  S arrives and shuffles through my paperwork.  I may be always late but it is always complete and well prepared.  The social charges, which pay for health, pension, sickness and a proportion of the national debt (yes, really) are levied at 40% of income after sales tax and related expenses ie my net profit.   I ask her for some ideas of how to reduce my net profit.  She sucks her teeth and suggests I go out for lots of nice meals.  (yes, really).  I say, how about if I buy a new car and what if it is eco-friendly. She says that there is a maximum amount I could spend - 25000 euros but not all of that can be written off - only 18500 euros.  What happens to the rest?  It just stays in your balance sheet.  And that is only for cars with under 20 grams CO2 emissions.  If I were to buy a gas guzzler, I could only write off 9500 euros.  My hatred of the taxation system is rekindled.  Why the hell cant you write off the lot?  S shrugs.  It is the law.

I ask her for other ideas.  She is starting to look hot under the collar.  I say how about if I rent an office.  Yes that would be OK.  How about if I rent an office for myself or keep a room at home and charge expenses (shouldn't these ideas have been coming from my accountant???).  S says how would I pay for that with my current bank balance.  I ask about changing regime to a more favourable one.  S says she needs to ask the partner I used to see.

OH is lurking outside and reading a tome on the Peninsular Wars.  Please don't ask me what these were about.  

We repair to McDonald's which is no where near the amount, apparently, I should be spending on lunch and then go to the large DIY store where we try to find a very narrow door.  OH has decided to try and hide the massive and luminously white water tank which the plumber has stuck onto the wall in the new rental unit.  Finding a very narrow door, as you would imagine, isn't that easy.   There is only one trolley left in the bay and it is of the badly behaved variety, with wonky wheels and rotting base.  OH charges off into the shop, shouting 'follow me' and I try to keep up but the trolley has other ideas and veers off into displays, causing chaos.  It responds neither to pushing or pulling and I have to holler at OH to come back and we contain it by seizing a side each.

It occurs to me that I may be able to find things for my latest crafting obsession so I go in search of a hand drill, spray on glue and silica balls.  Various men send me off on various wild goose chases.  Find OH wrestling with the badly behaved trolley and two metres of long thin wood.  Manoeuvre this and the thin door into the car and I get to sit in the back seat which means I can play on my phone all the way home without OH complaining that I am rude and ignoring him.

I have three missed calls from the would be buyer of the house in town.  I don't know why they keep ringing me.  I cant help them with their dilemma.  I don't have a time machine to go back and get the owners to sign their offer first.  We need to wait to hear from the sellers advocate.  Ring the seller.  Her only defence is probably temporary insanity.  I suggest, very subtly, that she must have been very stressed.  She is very stressed and it is about 15 minutes before I get a word in edge ways.  I suggest a trip to the doctor to TALK ABOUT HER STRESS and get medication might help her case.  I must have been too subtle and she must have been too stressed because she definitely didn't take anything on board.  I cant face talking to the would be buyers.   

We do a catch up of the emails and tasks for the day and I peel two boxes of prawns before going for a swim.  Have a rental enquiry so speak to him and then try ringing some other people who aren't in.  OH makes utterly delicious chili seafood risotto.  

Drooling over the New Look and Christian Dior

Thursday 19 February 2015

Brilliant blue skies 6 degrees warming to 16 later



A good to be alive day with many small birds tweeting and a blackbird tink tinking on the roof of the barn.  Fuelled by tea, I leaped out of bed, informed OH I was going down town and to my surprise, he hauled himself up too and surprised the dog by accompanying us part way along the road to town before getting out for a walk.

My trousers are 'descending' as the locals say, so went to the charity shop to see what was on offer.  Found a brown leather belt, a white leather belt and a rather strange yellow crocodile effect one, complete with Radley style dog badges.  I could hear the voice of Del Trotter in my head, saying 'wear that one, gel, and you'll knock 'em bandy'.  Three euros. Cant go wrong at that price.  There was a ravishing, full length wool coat but it was brushing the top of my shoes.  I looked like I was standing in a hole.  'Ah' said the German lady who helps out there 'you need to be taller'.  She was, of course, much taller than me and looked really good in it.  

Sometimes I find brilliant things in this shop - a beautiful tapestry jacket with exquisite buttons and from some snazzy Parisian boutique, Per Una blouses from the days when Per Una was still pretty and floaty, heavy cotton sheets that pin OH down and stop him stealing all the covers from me on a chilly night.  Today, there was a lot of tat and faded bling.  The German lady was sifting through a bag of china figurines, of the type which are included in the three kings cakes and lie in wait to break the teeth of the unwary.

King Cake (Northern style)

King Cake (Southern style)

The cake traditionally celebrating Epiphany in France and Quebec is sold in most bakeries during the month of January. Three versions exist: in northern France, Quebec, and Belgium the cake called galette des rois (which can be either circular or rectangular) consists of flaky puff pastry layers with a dense center of frangipane or apple. In the west of France a sablé galette is made, a form of sweetcrust pastry. In southern France - Occitania, Roussillon, Provence, Catalan where it´s called tortell - the cake called gâteau des rois or royaume, is a torus-shaped brioche with candied fruits and sugar, similar in its shape and colours to a crown. This later version is also common to Spain and very similar to New-Orleans king cake.

Tradition holds that the cake is “to draw the kings” to the Epiphany. A figurine, la fève, which can represent anything from a car to a cartoon character, is hidden in the cake and the person who finds the trinket in his or her slice becomes king for the day and will have to offer the next cake. Originally, la fève was literally a broad bean (fève), but it was replaced in 1870 by a variety of figurines out of porcelain or—more recently—plastic. These figurines have become popular collectibles and can often be bought separately. Individual bakeries may offer a specialized line of fèves depicting diverse themes from great works of art to classic movie stars and popular cartoon characters. The cakes are usually sold in special bags, some of which can be used to heat the cake in a microwave without ruining the crispness of the cake. A paper crown is included with the cake to crown the "king" who finds the fève in their piece of cake. To ensure a random distribution of the cake shares, it is traditional for the youngest person to place him- or herself under the table and name the recipient of the share which is indicated by the person in charge of the service.

Formerly, the cake was divided into as many shares as there were guests, plus one. The latter, called "the share of God," "share of the Virgin Mary," or "share of the poor" was intended for the first poor person to arrive at the home.

The French President is not allowed to “draw the kings” on Epiphany because of the etiquette rules. Therefore, a traditional galette without figurine or crown is served at Elysée Palace in January.

The market was quite busy for Winter and to celebrate, two of the cafes had decided to close for the day.  Was obliged to go to Croaky Joe's and had to sit inside as the terrasse was packed.  Was amused to listen to a group of Brits who had had to come and sit down to recover from the shock of the cost of cheese on the market.  They were looking glum and the woman was not helping things as she looked at the weather on her phone and told her family that it was going to rain for the next six days.  

The woman had some experience of living over here and remarked that the locals were not at all interested in hearing about personal problems.  I reflected on this - it is true that they never, ever discuss their private lives or those of their relatives, with their work colleagues. You have to become an extremely close friend of someone before they will say anything and even then, it will only be occasionally.  The great British tradition of having a bit of a gripe when you are fed up, just doesn't happen.

I was just about to try and insinuate myself into their conversation - you never know if they are looking to buy or sell - when OH rang up and informed me that he had gone on an alternative walk and was no where near home and could I come and get him.

Back home for early lunch.  Those bloody ISIS people are still killing and blowing people up. Deaths in Copenhagen and Egypt.  Russian bomber planes chased away from coast of Cornwall by RAF.

After lunch, I was required to assist with wood cutting duties.  OH extended a long line of cable and put up the horse and started cutting the pieces of stacked wood in the far shelter. He must have cut about four large logs into chunks when the chain came off.  He rested the chainsaw on his knee and tried to get the chain back on.  No joy.  He then moved to a tree stump.  Again, no joy.  He moved into the kitchen and I loaded and stacked the logs.  An hour later, the chain was still refusing to tighten and I said I had had enough of playing with the chainsaw and wanted to go swimming.

OH decided he had not had enough frustration for the day, and I left him to battle with getting pod casts onto his Ipod.  

Took the chainsaw to the local DIY store and the guy in there performed the same operation as we had been doing for the past hour and a half, and the sodding chain tightened immediately.  He then undid it, and it refused to tighten.  I left it with him.

The pool was busy with annoying rugby players who didn't look where they were going and small children who didn't get out of the way.  I have now taken to swimming into people too. When in Rome, etc.   Practiced eye exercises whilst swimming up and down.  Wonder how long it takes before you 'see' the effect?

GBSB was brilliant tonight.  First task was to remake a 50s classic 'Walkaway' dress which, apparently, one could whip up in a morning before going out to lunch with friends.  Morning, for me, would have to start at just after midnight.  Lovely stylish shape to the dress.  Remake challange involved taking a pair of curtains and turning them into something wonderful.  All without patterns.  Very impressive.  Lastly they had to make a 50s garment in sheer material.   Nightmare to sew and the winner was a very stylish blouse.

Some exquisite Dior dresses showing the New Look.  Gave me goosebumps

 this lady seems to have accidentally been given a lampshade to wear.
 can you just imagine how fabulous this would be to wear?  How it would swish as you walked?

 the lampshade is back.  This was a core day ensemble of the New Look - love the contrast of the black gloves and the white shoes
 is there anything more elegant than full length gloves?  I think women today have a completely different shape from women in the 40s and 50s.  No one now has the shape of the model in the black ensemble.