Second report from the Dordogne

My last visitors have gone; who will be next! My mother thought the house had too many windows, had a difficult staircase, and was altogether too far from Bordeaux. It's

also too far from Rome, Vienna, Barcelona, etc. etc. Anyhow, she got home alive. She couldn't understand how we had three rubbish collections per week while living so far from anywhere. (We live in the middle of a city of 27,000 people!). How do people in Gaway get their rubbish collected, as they're so far from Dublin??

The gates-and-pillars project should end tomorrow. The gates had to go away for a respray, due to a misunderstanding between the builder and the supplier (who both speak French), about who paints on the required colour. They all come originally in black. Noir to you.

I had my first cold call today. In Dublin, I would hang up after 10 seconds, but I hung on to see if I could figure out what it was about. At first I thought she was trying to sell me her body, but she asked a lot of questions about what I liked on television. I replied truthfully that, apart from football, my favourite programme was the weather forecast. I was tempted to tell her that I also watched live sex involving people of mixed race (and sex), preferably with a couple of cows thrown in! However, I didn't know enough French. She was selling cable television, the various Canal Plus stations, and I'm delighted that I understood that much. Eventually, she concluded that I might be interested "plus tard" but not today.

The gardening is going well, and none of the dozens of plants has died, despite being planted in a heatwave. This is due to assiduous "arrosage" on a daily basis. I have ceased for the moment, as I reckon the plants need a week of watering to survive in drought. Reading plant labels in a garden centre is like reading a foreign language. (Ian Rush (from Liverpool) said that living in Milan was like living in a foreign country). So, I use a big fat dictionary. But, I'm learning.

Keep working on the class visit.

First report from the Dordogne

First report from the Green Fields

I miss you all so much!

I'm here now about 12 weeks. I'm not sure if my French has improved much, but it does get easier to understand what they're saying, and less of them respond in English when I speak in French. Today, I asked for “fil de fer” (wire to you!) in Bricomarché today, and the man just said “la bas, a droite”.

Last week, I contracted a builder to build two pillars and put gates on them. Firstly, I had to describe how to get here, and that's difficult in English. He got here. I also beat him down on the price, and gave him a cheque for half the price. Yesterday, he delivered a load of gravel and blocks for two pillars.

So, what didn't work so well? Well, I needed a physio, and despite my best efforts, I ended up with an osteopath! It could have been a gynaecologist, or even a psychopath! Any way, he didn't kill me. I also managed to get my hair cut, in a proper barbers. The only word I needed was “court”. €11.

I went into the bank to ask them to send things to my French address instead of Dublin. When I gave my French address, the woman nearly jumped over the counter! She lives next door! Since then, we're best mates. And Therese is not even jealous.

Things happen slowly here. Even the supermarket check-out. Most people pay by personal cheque. And they forget where their cheque book is until they've gone through. Then, they have a conversation with the lady about their cat or dog or illness. And nobody says “hurry up”.

There is a big traffic jam at 12 noon every day. Everywhere closes 12-2 for lunch, and the employees go home. Almost nothing opens on Sunday.

I'm on my third set of visitors, my 85-year-old mother and my two sisters. The weather cleared up in time.

I'm planting a garden just now. Until last week it was impossible, hard as iron. Then four days rain softened it up, and I took advantage. Now it's back to hard as hell.

I hope the class can arrange a visit. You will be very welcome.