Uncategorized – Poshbird with Passion

the cowboy photo

Cowboy Picture doctored — Excuse the dreadful editing!

This is one of those photos that always makes me smile. We were obliged to attend an industry ‘do’ over ten years ago. We didn’t know anyone. It was a barn dance. For us it sounded like a disastrous night and we were absolutely dreading it

We arrived dutifully dressed in denim, suede and appropriate hats, but the room was full of rather stiff people, none of whom had made any attempt to dress up. They were not feeling it. We were definitely not feeling it. The room had no atmosphere and the first half an hour was excruciating. It looked like being a very long and very quiet night

Then a guy burst in to the room, dressed as a cowboy and firing his toy guns overhead. With him was a pantomime horse (two men, fully committed to the role and the costume) which reared its head and loudly clacked its teeth. Baz and I were in stitches by then, but the rest of the room barely even acknowledged the newcomers and joylessly lined up at the buffet. It felt as if the other guests were almost offended that someone had decided to have some fun with the theme, and did not appreciate ‘that sort of behaviour’

Needless to say, the man and his horse came and sat with us. For much of the evening both top and bottom halves of the horse wore their costumes, though it must have been stifling inside the head, particularly. Our table was impossibly loud and raucous. As the evening wore on someone pointed out that all the people at the surrounding tables had moved away and were either perched on windowsills or had crowded onto other tables. We had a blast despite – or perhaps because of – the disapproving looks from all around us, and were nearly persuaded to go out clubbing with the gunfighter and his steed, but we chose to retire after a very heavy night’s drinking, dancing and laughter

It was one of our better decisions. The next morning we saw them after breakfast. They looked even worse than we did, having gate-crashed a wedding party at the same hotel, staying until they were ejected at 4am

Normally I hate photos at events like this, but we became friends that night and, let’s face it, it’s not often that you get to have your photo taken with a pantomime horse, so we went for it. The picture tends to resurface regularly when I feel slightly under-par, and it reminds me of a hilariously bad night out with great company

The Mighty Quinn – my first ‘pet’ spider?

The only water tap at the house is over a massive stone laundry sink in the furthest part of the garage, and the installation of this tap was greatly anticipated because we had no water source at all when we arrived at the house in August

Quinnsite — I was too scared to include my finger in the pic for scale

Arriving at midnight for my first solo visit in October, I was none too happy (terrified, actually) to discover that an enormous spider lives on the windowsill above this tap. On the first morning when I went to get water he marched right out of his web and across the sill to take a look at me. I dropped the empty bottle I was holding, and backed off in a cold sweat

waterbottlessite — All empty – time to say ‘Rebonjour’ to Quinn

I calmed down when he returned to the entrance to his web, where he remained for the rest of that week, observing me

With no way of getting around the water situation – I needed to fill bottles with at least 25 litres a day for flushing the loo, cleaning myself and the house and for making camomile tea – I could not avoid at least one visit a day to the sink of terror. So I reminded myself that he was here first, and to curb my extreme fear I named him ‘Quinn’. Through the week greeted him each morning and evening as my fellow resident, nattering away to him in French as I leaned over the tap

As a coping mechanism the friendly approach worked. I am not crazy enough to imagine that it was social interaction for ‘Quinn’ and for the whole week I didn’t take my eyes off this huge ancient spider faded to a shade of dark blond (did I actually just make a spider sound like Brad Pitt?), but I was no longer so scared and was at times actually glad of the company

Charlotte was horrified to hear about my regular chats with him, until she saw his photo – it’s hard not to be impressed by him. When I returned from my January visit she was as disappointed as I was that there had been no sign of him at the entrance to his web. I hope he’s OK and hasn’t decided to move on from his comfy domain. I have tried to be a good housemate

‘Colour and I are One’

‘Colour and I are One’. So said Paul Klee, one of the most exciting artists of the 20th Century. Certainly colour can provoke a strong emotional reaction, and this will be on a daily basis when used in our homes

Like so many people, I pore over colour charts and long to possess the shades therein. Choosing one is limiting, yet I also love the commitment of applying paint to wall after all the preparation

When we moved in to our first flat in Eton it was a blank magnolia canvas, so I indulged myself in reds, yellows and oranges. Baz soon joked that the rooms were becoming smaller due to the number of coats of coloured paint I applied. Then we moved to our little house and when Charlotte was born I painted all the walls in soft buttery yellows to be warm and uplifting. Sixteen years down the line I have replaced ~~pretty much~~ all of this, always happy to have an excuse to re-decorate. Repeatedly. Eventually the novelty wore off and RSI started to set in, and so our hallway still remains unfinished in one corner

I love the brights, but of course there are some wonderfully subtle yet highly pigmented shades, muddied and grounded by earth tones. These have been championed by the rather smug middle-class heritage paint producers, who seem to have plucked them out of an imagined past, charging us a premium for having given them their ancestry and poetic names (‘Elephant’s Breath’, ‘Mole’s Breath’,’Mouse’s Back’ etc.)

As for ‘Cats Paw’? – if I had a cat with paws that colour I would not expect it to come back from the vet…

A member of the family, a professional carpenter and decorator who can recognise the exact F and B shade painted on a wall, tells me that these colours can be reliably matched as trade paints way more cheaply and with higher quality paint, and that when someone asks for a particular F and B paint colour he uses a matched Leyland trade paint and his customers are very happy. So this is something I plan to research. It may be a disappointment, but I have to check it out because regrettably I have to take care of the pennies on the French house. And because it really appeals to my inner ‘Belligerent Bitch’ (which would no doubt be an intense blood-red on the chart)

Does anyone out there have any experience they can share of this matching service?

Coincidences and who is ‘Serge’?

Must be a very French ‘thing’ to leave Xmas decs up so long?

So after our strenuous afternoon moving the charbonne, we shared a bottle of Cremant as an apero, and went for pizza. We then strolled through the remaining Christmas decorations to have a drink at a local sports bar I have only been to once before. Of course, in small French towns it is unusual for two women to go out for a drink at ten in the evening, and when we sat down the three men at the bar turned and said ‘Bonsoir’. It didn’t feel entirely comfortable but we were not to be easily dissuaded, so we sat and ordered our drinks

During our second drink, the tallest guy stood up, walked the few paces over to us, and asked in fairly good and friendly English where we hailed from. When told which region of France my friend currently lives in, he asked whereabouts and she named the small village. He suddenly became very animated and even doubtful at first, because apparently this obscure village with only one hundred inhabitants is his family village and they still own two houses there. It transpired that they actually know the same people: (‘Oh yes, Serge is doing the driveway’ and ‘Oh, the one with only three fingers’, etc). When she mentioned a concert she’d attended in a house near the church before Christmas, he even knew who had played there

How? Because it was his sister’s house, of course!

Such coincidences can defy belief. She was only with me for a second night due to car trouble, the guy in the bar was spending just two nights in town on business, having never visited the area before

Around midnight we headed off to our respective dorms, all with a couple of hundred yards of each other. The fact that they made individual random visits to this town – this bar – at the same time is incredible to me

Spotted in McDs in Limoux the next day and it made me giggle. Go on, say it out loud..

Wouldn’t it be Nice (nice)

That’s ‘nice’, actually, not ‘Nice’. This was the view from the attic window when I braved the pigeon poo-covered floor, looking due west to the hills. What a shame we cannot have a terrace to enjoy it. A friend tells me that the mountain I can see in the distance to the north is actually Andorra. How amazing that these peaks are so close and are only blocked by the hills surrounding the town

Luck is on Our Side, but Gravity isn’t

Today’s meeting with the builder, the plumber and the electrician was another roller coaster. This time it was ‘Non, non, non’ from Jerome the plumber. ‘Non’, there isn’t enough in the budget to do what I want. ‘Non’, we can’t keep the art deco bidet (that was a solid ‘non, non, non’ on its own) and ‘Non’, the soil pipe isn’t working because it runs flat through the cellar to the road, due to several beams. So we’d better stop using the loo for a while. Despite this, we are undeterred. Baz and I aren’t going to let this trio of experienced French artisans pee on our campfire. Non

We plan to up-cycle the few bits of furniture we found here and put various work surfaces on top to make a kitchen next to the garage. Now we need to make sure that none of these tradesman chucks anything away, as to them it is all junk. They may actually be right about some of it

Doesn’t exactly scream ‘La Cuisine’, does it?

But we’ve had some luck recently. Some months back a company importing stone a few doors away from our office had done a runner and left their unit, so Baz called our landlord to tell him. Baz asked if we could have a look inside when they sent their people in to clean. His response was ‘Go for it’

The tenants left it in a horrible mess, with live electric wires hanging all over the place, several inches of stone dust and a blocked gully full of contaminated water. It took weeks to clear and repair the unit, but thanks to the help of the clearance guys we scored two sparkling white kitchen table tops still in protective plastic, as well as some carrara marble, and a stunning transparent piece, ideal for bathroom shelves. One guy gave us some smaller red pieces too, and he was so enthusiastic that it seemed rude not to take them. They will certainly add some colour somewhere

The joinery company next door has given us an enormously tall wardrobe with huge drawers, which was removed from a London house. It is heavy and beautifully made, with lovely glazing bars and fielding. If we hadn’t taken it the whole thing would have been trashed, which would have been such a waste. So we have the bones of the kitchen for free

Now we just need to move the electrics, knock down the dividing wall, install gas, get a new boiler and running water and somehow find a solution for the soil pipe….Oh yes, then get all this down to France. And build something kitchen-ish

Enough. I must stop using this blog as a to-do list. It won’t make it happen any faster!

New and Improved (Exactly the Same)

Tuesday. The lock of the front door seized up with the key stuck firmly in it. After repeated attempts to remove it I settled for leaving the key in the lock overnight and bolting the door from the inside. Faced with having to break the key off and replace the whole thing, we levered the key with a screwdriver and it gave way and came out, slightly bent but still usable. We removed the lock, doused it (I don’t think that is too strong a word) in WD40 and I wrapped it carefully in a towel in my handbag, like a puppy. Today, in LeClerc in Limoux, they cleaned the lock and cut 2 new keys for 21 euros and it is working again. Not only is this cheaper than buying a new lock, I was able to easily re-fit it myself without damage to the door, and we can keep the beautiful original lock. Not to mention that my handbag is much lighter!

The meeting with the builder was a real mix of good and bad news. Yes, the roof will be very expensive (though hopefully less than he originally quoted) but also yes, the house is actually pretty much structurally sound. The ‘sound’ bit was the last thing I had expected. He reasoned that the 400 year old beams are still supporting the weight of all the original floor tiles, so they are strong and we shouldn’t worry about a bit of movement. There’s logic to it, and he demonstrated his point by jumping up and down on the spot several times where I want to put one of the extremely heavy and apparently very humorous ‘baignoires anglaises’

Buoyed by this news I started removing the hideous 70s-patterned fabric from the walls of the Club Room (see remnant hanging right of photo – this awful material was covering every wall, right up to the ceiling). There are 3 or 4 layers of paper underneath before I reach the plaster, but it is encouraging so far. It would be lovely to be able to get one room looking presentable fairly soon, so that we could use it as a kitchen-diner, somewhere to have a cuppa and a sit-down, or even a glass of wine. Yes, that would be wonderful

I think I’ll have to settle for painting over the wainscotting. It is going to take forever to strip back this ‘brown stuff’, and then I’d probably paint it again anyway. But under the fabric wall covering was a fascinating glimpse into the thought process of the evil genius who decorated this one room, back in 1970-something:

Yuck. They went to great trouble to select just the right shade of … whatever it is

‘Normandy Grey’ by Little Green would look a treat with the floor tiles and fireplace. It would certainly be more restful than this, but I am letting my imagination get ahead of things. Back to reality, I have to meet the electrician and the plumber tomorrow so that they can also scare the bejesus out of me, but tonight I am shacked up with a baguette and a very nice cheap bottle of red wine. Outside il pleut, in our house il pleut aussi, but in this apartment il fait tres chaud..

(smiley face, smiley face!)

Half full or half empty?

I would normally say that I am a glass half full kind of girl

But I’m unsure in this situation

I spent some time in the house today, imagining the kitchen in its new situation in the back of the house. We have now realised that there is no point in having a house of this size and squeezing a kitchen into the smallest room. It gives us the space to up-cycle the old furniture we found in the garage and it should give us a much better layout. That’s all if we can afford to get the roof fixed temporarily

During the October deluge, I discovered that the roof still leaked, despite what the estate agent had assured me. Rather a lot really. Still, at least this plastic container had arrived earlier that day, packed with ‘stuff’ from the UK, so during the insane storm I was able to see where to place it to catch the most water and limit the damage to the stairs

So, after two and a half months in position the container looked like this, and I wonder whether it’s terrible that so much rain fell through our poor old roof (something around 40 litres), or if it is a victory to have stopped so much before it did further damage. Either way, I’ve emptied it and left it exactly where it is for now!

The huge loss of David Bowie

Like many people today, I am mourning David Bowie. A true star, he and his music have been a constant throughout my lifetime and his ability to re-invent himself has inspired as much as his music

Even now, we frequently listen to his work, particularly ‘Hunky Dory’, ‘Aladdin Sane’ (I have even run to this sometimes – must have looked hilarious) and ‘Low’.When Baz and I first met we found that we had been to see him on the same tour (Serious Moonlight)

Charlotte has been brought up listening to his albums on long car journeys and she has been educated by/ subjected to no end of footage of Ziggy Stardust and Bowie documentaries, to show her how he helped shaped music, fashion and attitudes. We felt this was every bit as important as any academic teaching

Inevitably, there were things he did that were unsuccessful but these pale against the great works, and the man was a true inspiration to me. I don’t know of anyone in the music business who was untouched by his work and he was universally popular as a person – no mean feat in the worlds of music and art

I was not expecting to like his latest album, seeing him as past his best, but I saw the video of ‘Blackstar’ this morning and my hair stood on end. What a disturbing and fitting last gift

R.I.P. a great and beautiful man. We are indebted to you

Falling in love…. again

Baz was worried that the house would be too cold for me to stay in. I hate to admit it, but he’s right, and I am very grateful to be staying in a very warm and cosy apartment, just a few steps from our house. It’s lovely. The walls and ceiling are crack-free and tastefully painted and the central heating and double glazing are just luxurious. It’s even got a TV. I know that our family will be more comfortable staying here than in our house, even when the house is ‘done up’

My charming neighbour thought it was hilarious that I had bought the house opposite (he mentioned that he had seen it online himself). It has taken him three years to do the work, and while I don’t imagine that the house was in such a sorry state as ours to start with, I have great respect for the taste and restraint he has shown throughout

See what you think:

This morning I was enjoying the view over the river under clear blue sky, and I realised that if anyone came to Quillan for just one night and stayed in this apartment, they would be completely entranced by the town and its situation. Funny, then, that my first reaction to the town last year was less positive. I am delighted that staying in such comfort is allowing me to relax and fully appreciate the town and its people, who are warm and kind – it’s impossible not to feel relaxed and at home

But yes, Baz, I will come home… I promise

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