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Thoughts, photographs, reflections & musings of a late bloomer & lover of France. Pursuer of "The Good Life" and an abundance of laughter.
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Work, Life and My French Folly....update
Courtsey of Warrenski, flikr |
My professional commitments demand that I complete of work during the weekend and on weeknights. And dealing with the public always has unexpected hazards.
I go through phases of employing cleaners who
initially manage to impress, but invariably start to take short cuts after
gaining my confidence.
The local ironing lady - who will probably be
sainted by the ladies of Brighton - insists on using spray starch,
which causes members of my family to develop rashes - quite antisocial en
masse.
My Scottish heritage prevents me from paying $40
plus per hour for a gardener. Besides, I love getting my hands in the dirt and psychologically
don't want to relinquish this task - my green meditation. But it does add to my
"to do" list.
A ceiling in My French Folly. |
Then there're the renovations of My French Folly
to attend to - a self-imposed pressure that has been amplified beyond my
expectations by employing (and paying) a project manager who confuses fiction
with fact and has a propensity to "go to ground" for months on end. I
am constantly amazed by his creative excuses and absolute gall. However, for
the first time since purchasing the house in France there is a glimmer of hope
that we may be able to be in residence this June, albeit with the work
unfinished. I am no longer dealing with the project manager but his newly
appointed offsider - a man of action! Within 2 weeks an army of artisans has
produced quotes for the renovation work. When they can actually start to put their
skills into action has yet to be determined, but at least something is
happening at our much neglected maison française.
This unexpected, but long awaited activity has
me dreaming of France - with eyes closed and open - decorating rooms that I
have yet to see, with copper pots, exquisite pieces of furniture and other
authentic French items that I've picked up - for pittance -
from brocantes in quaint villages and antique shops that I happen to chance
upon while roaming the French countryside. If only dreams (shamefully,
quite selfish) came true............
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