There are cracks in our floor, but the tiles are almost more beautiful because of their imperfections. Theirs is an honest story of survival and service, the history of the house itself
Yes, I’m charmed by neglected things, always have been. Recently through necessity it’s French architectural salvage, though I’ll never turn down anything pretty or useful
Or in need of help
I have optimistically bought old radiators from Ebay, with no idea if they will function in France (or at all), and I can’t wait to see the plumber’s face when I show him my latest treasures!
But I am sure our very likeable builder now understands some of the vision for this house. Initially I was made aware by friends that he prefers to rip out and modernise everything (and this was borne out in our early meetings), but I have noticed a subtle change in his attitude – ‘un change de tête’ after further visits. Standing with me in the house, he admired the quality of the ironwork on a window one day, and he talked about how attractive the old shutters will be when sanded and refreshed – yet weeks before he might have suggested replacing them. I might be imagining it, but
I think the house is actually getting to him
This house has a true riches to rags story, though no-one seems to know the details. And though it doesn’t need anyone’s approval but ours, I suspect that there lurks in our builder a real admiration of this strong survivor, cherished and valued for centuries before being left abandoned and neglected, exposed to the elements for decades. I think he now has a better understanding of why we are doing this and how hard we are prepared to work towards it
It can never again be pristine. Perhaps it never was, despite its grandeur. But pristine wouldn’t really do it for us – we’re not pristine either
How could anyone not love this house, if only for its total defiance?
Of course, we all know how difficult it is to remove Weetabix once it has been left in the bottom of a breakfast bowl
Perpignan caused a brief hiccup as our sat-nav struggled to decide which road we were on. When we arrived at Collioure the mist was low and we could only just make out the shapes of a chateau and a windmill on the hills in the distance. The sky was grey and the air colourless, dreadful for photos but giving everything a strange calm. Despite the conditions the sea was clear turquoise blue and the entire bay was laid out before us
We will go back. Perhaps not in summer, when traffic queues are rumoured to be three hours long and parking impossible. I hope we’ll overnight next time and enjoy a glass of wine with lunch and a leisurely dinner
The sun was still shining when we left, but we had to navigate Perpignan once again and it’s still all new to us
For one day only we had the roof terrace of our dreams. On Wednesday evening the guys left the front attic fully exposed to the sky, creating fantastic views of the hills, both east and west. It was stunningly beautiful and peaceful. I cried
It was the pop-up roof terrace that could never be, thanks to local restrictions. At least we were able to experience it, however briefly
By the end of Thursday it was fully enclosed once more, before the rain arrived. All beams and boards had been replaced, and there was no trace of the terrace of the night before
Of course, I had totally messed up the trip by spraining my ankle, so will have to wait until next winter to get my fitting doneOf course, I had totally messed up the trip by spraining my ankle, so I was unable to ski or get boots fitted, so I just took in the scenery instead
The trip down was much less intimidating because the sheer drop was on the other side of the road! The last few miles were along the River Aude where the road has been cut through the rocks of the gorge
Poshbird with Passion 