Month: March 2016

Room with a Temporary View

The sky may be grey rather than blue, but it’s still the sky

In the builders’ lunch area, two large paint pots and a board had been used to create a third seat at the Formica-topped table, and there were thermos flasks, bread, a frying pan and a camping gas stove. They may be the first people to sit down and eat a hot meal here in over forty years

That’s a wonderful thing, a landmark. Life is creeping back into the house

IMG_7923

The removal of the roof began. It’s been windy and very cold but the guys really cracked on with removing the tiles. Almost all the original 17th Century beams are past saving and need to be replaced, which is disappointing, but an essential compromise toward stopping the decay in the rest of the house

IMG_7920.JPG

Seeing the sky come into view (albeit a flat grey that even F and B would struggle to glamourise) through the open roof was a beautiful thing and it reassured me that anything is possible, that we will overcome whatever obstacles we face and rescue this house

But we need to earn some more money first 🙂

 

 

My Home from Home from Home

I feel totally at home, but my home is nothing like this

I sit here on an upholstered dining chair at a wooden table in front of a television. I have my laptop, phones, magazines. I have wine, water and wasabi peas. There’s a flushing toilet. This is luxury

IMG_7903.JPGI realised as I let myself into my neighbour’s charming apartment that I have become very comfortable here. I want for nothing and his charges are very reasonable. The fact that I can get a phone signal and use his wifi means that I can even stay in touch with Baz and C

Meanwhile our own house is shrouded in scaffolding. The sight stopped me in my tracks when I arrived, even though it was planned. Inside I was surprised and impressed to see that the builders have reinstated the little Formica kitchen table and 2 chairs that we had ‘bunged’ into the garage, presumably as somewhere to sit and take a proper break

Someone on a British TV programme this week described the French way of life as ‘gentle and civilised’. I realise that ‘frustrating’ will be another adjective I’ll continue to use, but both Baz and I thought this was a perfect description. There is merit in upholding traditions and rituals, in maintaining the order that has prevailed. In the UK we have some stunning villages – there is no doubt of that – but in France the villages still largely live and breathe, many communities exist in much the same way as they have for a very long time, and older people generally seem less isolated and lonely

Perhaps I am wrong about that, but most people are deeply sociable and enjoy the company of others. I have just read Blog-sur-Aude’s post (coteetcampagne) about just the same thing – community spirit, available company, shared interests: a village bench where people sit if they choose company. These days millions of people in the UK have nowhere to meet up with others and often no daily connection with their community. A gentler and more civilised way of life would solve so many social problems

But tonight, I’ll just curl up alone with my comforts

 

 

 

Springing into Action? Oh yes please!

IMG_7404.JPG

There is movement. Apparently work is about to commence on the roof, and not just sometime soon, but this Monday. I am as astounded as I am excited. Hard though it is to imagine the house without the interior waterfall, I also wonder if this might run for a while yet – I mean, it’s all very ‘sudden’ in contrast to the frustration of the last few months. I am not complaining because this is the beginning of the rebirth of the house

Coincidentally I was given an unexpected opportunity to get some more of my junk down there if I had it packed by yesterday, so this was Thursday’s priority, and I have booked a flight. It all fell into place rather well. Baz is understandably jealous and he feels more than a little second-best to my the house. He noticed that I labelled all the boxes with my name rather than our names. I didn’t mean anything by it!

Instead of sleeping in a roofless house, I have succumbed to Plan B (the very comfortable apartment I rented last time) because I can claw back some money by eating in and on heating. And because having a bath and the privacy of a working toilet is just irresistible

IMG_6962.JPG

This time next week I intend to be knee-deep in wallpaper strippings and I can barely wait

 

 

 

Before The Cloak Completes Me

IMG_7134 - Version 2.jpg

The veil first appeared in my late thirties. It was as useful as it was disconcerting because it gave me anonymity, allowing me to slip outside in any old thing, without make up or concern. I wasn’t worried because I saw other women wearing the same veils, and sometimes they were more obvious than mine. I felt that no-one cared how I looked, but I knew I could still slip off the veil and shine when I chose, be noticeable, and get attention when I sought it

Around age 45 I had a crisis of confidence. I did something unspeakable with my hair and struggled to find a look that suited me. I chose not to be in most holiday photos. Thanks to good friends and Baz I trusted that I would come out the other side of this ‘difficult’ stage, though that perm was nearly a step too far even for him

And yet a cloak started to descend somewhere shortly after that. Minor health issues sapped my energies and my youth. These were of no interest to anyone but me, and there was no advice on what to expect

While running at the weekend I bumped into a much-loved friend I first met when we were pregnant. I nearly walked right past her because we hadn’t seen each other for a couple of years and because she was wearing her full cloak. When I saw it was her we embraced. And then all the tears came – she’s having a tough time

We have birthed, mothered, menopaused. We have neglected ourselves and deferred, trusting that we would one day have the opportunity to re-invent ‘us’ and to peel back the opaque layers that the years have added. After all, we’re still the same inside, aren’t we…

There is still time before I will become completely invisible, but I feel the weight of that cloak every single day. I urge all women to stop your veil from becoming your shroud. Go out and light up that room. What seemed at first like a convenient homogenising layer of welcome soft focus will inevitably become more dense and will obscure you if you allow it

Be you. All the time. Smile, laugh, enjoy real friends and make time to see each other

 

 

Pigeon Steps, but Progress

IMG_1995.jpg
(they’re chicken steps really)

I am pleased with myself this week. Having taken ten days out to recover fully from the flu that rendered me completely ‘speechless’ for three days, I have been out running again

Perhaps it’s the prospect of longer summer evening runs with friends through the Great Park, returning home to a meal cooked by the lovely Baz. Or perhaps it’s just the fear of not feeling good in a swimsuit on holiday. Whatever it is, I am grateful to discover that I have not lost all discipline

I have been doing only 3.5 miles at a time and I covered just ten miles last week, but I remind myself that it’s ten miles more than I have been doing for the last two years. I’ll work out a new route to get back on target for increasing my mileage and I need to start stretching again, as I realise that I am already developing bad habits. I cannot risk more injury, especially with my megalomaniacal left hamstring already getting edgy (after some strenuous furniture moving last week, which always sets it off)

So, thank you to the very kind gentleman in a transit van who waited patiently for me before reversing on Monday evening, and to the other driver who chose to let me cross the road on my way home in the dark. These small kindnesses remained with me, and are part of why I got up early again to run through the frost on both sunny mornings this weekend, breathing in the delicious air and watching the small birds warm themselves low in the hedgerows. Running this week has been absolute heaven