This was no mean feat: unbeknown to any of us, the tower contained 2 heavy iron water tanks and needed all 3 of the builders to extract. I watched in trepidation one day as one of them beat away at the edge of the tower with a heavy hammer, perched precariously on the scaffolding tower. They have made no fuss about this, have simply got on with the job and really seem pleased that WE are so pleased with the result. These builders have been deservedly recommended to us.
We have long imagined how our garden would look without the tower, how big the space will seem and now we have the reality at last: one has a real sense of width and space, the large trees at the left side forming a natural break from the hot sun. Eddie & Alfie seem like mountain goats as they explore the mound of rubble and occasionally dig, perhaps hoping to find the odd scrap of something delicious only to dogs.
The pigeons of course are confused: no balcony, no tower, no home. They have had to fly away to find another place to nest. That is, except for a few: on the first day one of the builders picked up 2 tiny baby pigeons, almost featherless so perhaps just a few days old. We found a box and made a makeshift nest for them with twigs and earth and put them on the sill outside our bedroom. Lo and behold, the mother came back and we have watched her all week, sitting on them, feeding them, nurturing them. They are still there, flexing their little wings ready for their first flying lesson and even Mr. Fix It checks them out each morning, won over by their helplessness and perhaps relieved that at least one pigeon family has withstood the demolition of the tower.
Our fuseboard is in and the new cabling for the 2 ensuites almost done. Now it is plastering and tiling and the builders are, as I write, opening up the 2 windows on the ground floor which will become doors on to the garden.
It is always a good idea, as I mention in my France Buying Guide www.francebuyingguide.com/guide.htm, to make the acquaintance of the maire. Our maire paid us a quick visit the other day, intrigued and hopefully pleased that we are restoring this grand house to its former glory. He and his wife are popular in this village, they are good people and one has a real feeling of purpose and pride in the community as one walks along the promenade.
“Is it my imagination,” asked Mr. Fix It the other day, “or does this village become prettier each day?” I knew instantly what he meant by that. Now that we feel we are a part of it and have the comfort of some routine here, it looks so beautiful. We feel both lucky and proud to be able to see through the brickdust and know that we have much to look forward to living here in the south of France.
The pigeons of course are confused: no balcony, no tower, no home. They have had to fly away to find another place to nest. That is, except for a few: on the first day one of the builders picked up 2 tiny baby pigeons, almost featherless so perhaps just a few days old. We found a box and made a makeshift nest for them with twigs and earth and put them on the sill outside our bedroom. Lo and behold, the mother came back and we have watched her all week, sitting on them, feeding them, nurturing them. They are still there, flexing their little wings ready for their first flying lesson and even Mr. Fix It checks them out each morning, won over by their helplessness and perhaps relieved that at least one pigeon family has withstood the demolition of the tower.
Our fuseboard is in and the new cabling for the 2 ensuites almost done. Now it is plastering and tiling and the builders are, as I write, opening up the 2 windows on the ground floor which will become doors on to the garden.
It is always a good idea, as I mention in my France Buying Guide www.francebuyingguide.com/guide.htm, to make the acquaintance of the maire. Our maire paid us a quick visit the other day, intrigued and hopefully pleased that we are restoring this grand house to its former glory. He and his wife are popular in this village, they are good people and one has a real feeling of purpose and pride in the community as one walks along the promenade.
“Is it my imagination,” asked Mr. Fix It the other day, “or does this village become prettier each day?” I knew instantly what he meant by that. Now that we feel we are a part of it and have the comfort of some routine here, it looks so beautiful. We feel both lucky and proud to be able to see through the brickdust and know that we have much to look forward to living here in the south of France.
Alexis
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