A delightful encounter, and the sun is shining!

Wednesday 11 March 2015

Misty with warm sun later 15 degrees

Spent morning uploading property from earlier in the week.  There are fifteen pages of information for each property, plus writing the advert in French and English.  I also have to trim and improve the photos, cutting out distracting elements and lightening and brightening to give the best impression possible of the house.  I then crop and reduce pixel size.  Each property takes a good hour/hour and a half to load.  The phone is silent for once and I glimpse an array of blue tits and great tits devouring the fat balls on the bird table.  They are currently getting through two a day and are so fat, it is surprising they can take off from the platform.

WF rings to say that he has finally got his new computer up and running and is applying for his CII (insurance institute) membership and will start doing basic exams.  He also says his contract is not going to be extended beyond the three months, and that they are now having very few calls since the television campaign ended.  Yesterday, he spent ten minutes on the phones and the remainder of the eight hours playing board games with an African lady. Games supplied by the employers who are funded by government grant.  This has been a very useful first experience of work for WF who is now getting his CV in order and out to the Employment Agencies whom we found to be the best conduit for finding work.

Late afternoon, when the sun is low in the sky, and the fields are glowing orange, I head north and wait for my clients in a small village.  All of the shutters are closed and the only activity is in the municipal offices.  Birds cheep, a light breeze plays with the dead leaves gathered in the crook of the road, a plane passes overhead.  My phone rings.  It is the seller of the house in my town and she says my would be buyers needn't bother ringing her directly anymore because she has found another buyer and will be signing in the agents office this afternoon.  I think 'Bollocks, that is xxxxx euros up the Swanee'.  I ring the relevant agent and he gives me the name of the buyers and when I tell him the story of my would be buyers, he says Oh la la!

At that point, the clients arrive so we get out of our cars and say hello and then back in and they follow me to the property.  The lady, who is easily in her late 60's, is a slight sprite of a woman, tiny in proportion with wild curling waist length hair, Sybil Trelawny glasses and delicate hands tortured by arthritic joints.  She is wearing an ankle length skirt, overlaid with a camouflage jacket and many bangles.  The ensemble is topped off with a trilby which has been enjoyed by many ravenous moths.  She jumps down from the battered green van and skips over to me.  'My husband is very quiet!' she exclaims, breathily, 'but that is alright because I do the talking'.  She paused very rarely for breath, giving me chance to point things out, during the next two and a half hours.  She was an absolute delight and absolutely adored the property if it were not for the road noise.  The road is quite some distance away, down a track which has terrified previous visitees.  She exclaims that there is not a lot of work to do in the house.  I am thinking I need more French clients like her because the majority of them can find fault in a perfect house, never mind one that needs replastering, rewiring, new kitchen, new bathroom, new windows, new septic tank and decoration throughout.  I don't know what her husband thought of the house because he didn't get a chance to speak.  They left finally, saying they would have to think about it but they weren't in a rush, and I felt rather shell shocked.

Back home and we enjoy the rabbit and chorizo casserole which had been simmering in the oven for the past three and a half hours.  Yum.  Accompanied by a crisp white rioja.  OH is fed up of working in the rental unit.  He says if he was writing a blog, he could copy and paste each day with the same activity.  This is most uncharacteristic.  I suggest he comes with me tomorrow and he agrees.

More perishing footie on the telly.

This just wouldn't happen to Catharine Zeta Jones...

Tuesday 17 February 2015
8 degrees with rain and sunny spells

To the garage with the utility vehicle to discover what the damage is going to be following the MOT.   I arrive and am ignored so employ my usual tactic of getting into one of the brand new cars and starting to press all of the buttons.  The owner appears and seems hopeful until he realises it is me and I am back with one of my selection of dodgy cars.  Ah, Senora B, he grunts.  We go over to the car and he stands by the engine and motions me to open the lid.  I struggle to find the lever and he stands in the rain and scowls.  Finally I find it and he says there is no fuel leak from the pump (phew) and it is not worth putting back on the engine cover because it is knackered.  He chucks it back at me and I put it in the boot.  I then show him the tube that is hanging down.  He says that whoever put in the new engine, put in a tube that was too long.  I remind him that it was his garage that put it in and he says no and I say yes so he says OK, bring it inside and he makes me drive it onto the ramp, without giving me a clue if I am safely on the tracks or not.  He is in such a bad mood, it makes me want to burst out laughing.  A minion comes over and they try pushing the tube back under a metal shelf and it keeps popping out like a Jack in the Box.  

I go for a coffee over the road and sit at the bar for at least ten minutes before the owner stops talking on the phone.  I attract his attention by finding the remote control for the telly which is blasting away on the wall, turning down the volume and turning off the sport.  He is over in a jiffy.  I don't give him back the remote until I leave.

I think that this wouldn't happen to Catharine Zeta Jones.  She wouldn't be sitting in the equivalent of the failures cafe on the Apprentice, gripping an oily remote control and waiting for a bad tempered and aged garagiste to fix an eleven year old car with more rattles than a maternity unit.  I don't know why Catharine Zeta Jones pops into my mind at times like this.  Perhaps because she is so poised and glam.  Then again, I wouldn't fancy her old man, not in his current state.

Back at the garage and the owner has decided that it must be that the tube has stretched. Haha.  He says he can find a second hand one and fix it so I head down town and find OH in the rental units and he sends me for bread and cakes and we have a cup of tea and I scrape paint off the windows and clean off thirty years of grime.

Back home for lunch and again to the garage where it appears that I went home with the car keys in my pocket.  I give them the keys and they rev the car for at least ten minutes and then I am free to go and so I take the dog for a walk.  Sun has made a brief appearance. Home to clean up the kitchen and living room.  Wood fire has turned the fine white curtains into an interesting butterscotch colour.  Wonder what our lungs look like.

Playing on the heartstrings of desperate people

Thursday 12 February 2015

4 degrees rising to 15!

Rose early to listen to the replay of E Herv Eker's 'Masterclass' on MindValley.  If possible, it was even lighter on content than that of Christie Sheldon and lasted two and a half hours. The joy of the replay is being able to bypass the obligatory sob story (76 minutes) and then, what a surprise, he makes a breakthrough by embracing the idea that he can be spiritual and really, really, really (he loves repetition) rich.  He also gives us the nugget that your route to success must match who you are.  Much, much later, he does a visualisation of being at a fork in the road and going in the right hand direction and all is bad etc etc and how does that make you feel and then back to the fork in the road and take the left hand road and all is wonderful.  And to take the right fork, you have to buy his Spiritual Laws of Money products and they are nearly 300 dollars.   Apparently 147 people signed up for this crap on the first day.  Oh, sad and desperate people.   If Eker is indeed a multi, multi (counted to ten on his fingers) millionnaire and desperately wants to help people, why the fuck is he charging them?   The first step to being a millionnaire is to have your scruples cut out and burn them.   Decided to write a help book myself.

Dropped off utility vehicle for MOT then back home to drop off OH and go to meet today's clients.

Hung around in a car park, waiting for the clients, and they were waiting in a different car park.  Finally met up and took them to the house and they were impressed by the interior, which is indeed lovely.  They were not so keen by the barricades erected by the frankly strange neighbour and also there were quite a few trees.  They are selling because there are a lot of trees and the guy is fed up of picking up the leaves.  We are there for well over an hour.  They are going to draw up a list of favourite properties to revisit next week and will then make a decision.  I suggest two other properties and send them the details.

Back home and find OH just about to take the dog out and did I want to trail around in the mud with him.  No I didnt.  Not pleased to find that, yet again, no dishes washed and crap all over the floor.  Cleaned up, in bad mood.  Filed papers that were trailing around everywhere.  Looking at my meter readings for the rental units, I really hope I have read them incorrectly because the difference between last years consumption and this one is absolutely vast and over 1000 euros.

Made chili and did the VAT return online after having turned out all my bags and pockets to find the maximum of chargeable receipts.

Down at the gym, my subscription card had disappeared and no one was available to help so I took the card of a person with a similar sounding name and dived into the blissfully warm and frothing waters.  The lifeguard did notice and I said it was a mistake and he said OK and went back to throwing the bikes in the small pool for the aquabike session.  They landed with some force and large waves splashed over the people who were still doing lengths.  Sod health and safety.  You have just got to love it.

Did 30 lengths and the sun shone on the water and steam rose off the wavelets.  Heaven. Watched GBSB.  Very difficult waistcoat as first task then some brilliant relooking projects and then a 3d construction exercise.  Puffing, pouting black haired lady bunged off.  Men are very strong contenders this year.