House in France - Update

Silence.... Not a word from the project manager about the renovations to My French Folly, despite having a bevy of artisans in the house to give relevant quotes. Initially I assumed that this lack of communication was a result of the artisans being frightened off the job, due to its enormity and our tight budget. Or perhaps the quotes were so ridiculously large, that our project manager was seeking additional cost estimates in order to quell my anxiety and avoid a volley of emails being exchanged between the northern and southern hemispheres.  

Summer skies, Provence

No, I was wrong on both accounts. It's the holiday season in France so life is in slow motion.  In summer, many businesses cease operating until the end of August - an enviable trait of the French lifestyle if one were not trying to renovate  - from the other side of the world - a house while there is no snow on the ground. I concede that it is better to have the artisans on site 'from start to finish' than have them wander off on holiday half way though the project, but for this INTJ personality 'going with the flow' and giving my authority to someone else are difficult.  And exhausting. I seem to have a permanent glow when dealing with issues relating to our French house. A lesson learnt from renovating in France - the French don't die from ulcers! Perhaps I need to be more French................

In summer, the song sings itself. William Carlos Williams


Savoir-Faire



Effortless style

Savoir-faire - oh how I've longed for a touch of its allure. 
My mother possessed it - a necessary component of a young ladies repertoire in the 1940's .....or perhaps a result of her French heritage. Mother was an individual who was bien dans sa peau - happy in her own skin. She was always gracious and innately knew the subtle art of dressing...... More is less, but don't forget the gloves.  Your shoes "tell all". Quality is better than quantity. Good grooming, individual flair and laughter were her mantra. She wasn't one for following the flock.                                                                                       
As a child,  I assumed that I would acquire my mother's savoir-faire osmotically. As an adolescent, I realised that I didn't possess any savoir-faire.  And as an adult I searched for books which, would give me clues or better still, the steps by which I could gain some savoir-faire.

Unfortunately savoir-faire still eludes me - I'm not one whom others would describe as self-possessed, sexy or defiant.... maybe a touch defiant, but definitely not self-possessed and sadly for The Husband, not sexy....I'm of an age where undergarments and sleep wear must be comfortable.                   

Now, in a state of hormonal mayhem, I have finally found 2 books, What French Women Know and  Women, Work and the Art of Savoir-Faire that clearly explain why my life-long quest for savoir-faire has failed.  
From what I have gleaned, the reasons  are as follows.

1. Not enough shades of grey in one's thinking - very unsexy. It's the nuisances in life that make it interesting.

Sometimes black and white

thinking has it's place.

2. Needing to be  like one's peers - valuing sameness is definitely not chic. There is no standard way of looking or being.
3. An overly zealous appetite - size does matter. Self control is paramount and should appear effortless.

4. Failing to savour the experience of a relationship by focusing on the relationship's goal or outcome. 

5. Perfectionism - what a curse and a distraction. Life is imperfect. 

6. Failing to appreciate flirting as a form of amusement and flattery. For the French, flirting is "their drug of choice".
7. Lack of self confidence - an individual needs to be self contained in order to be their authentic self.  If not,  they will have.........

8. A lack of inner beauty to form outer beauty. 
Armed with this newly, acquired knowledge and diminished inhibition  - mid life has some advantages - it is time for my rebirth and a touch of  savoire faire......Ooh la la !       
                                                       

I'm taking only my torque and my savoir-faire.     Phillippe Gaertner

A definite lack of savoir-faire. 

Bastille Day

Although not in France, Bastille Day  was a time for celebration - with French champagne - and a time for reflection. 

Question - What drives an extremely cautious woman to purchase an old derelict house in France  over the internet,?

Answer - An irrational passion for France.

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.  Francois de La Rochefoucauld 

There are many attributes of France (and the French) I find appealing. Currently they blind me to the faults, foibles and frustrations of this hexagonal piece of intrigue. But will familiarity eventually spawn contempt? ..... 7 months after purchasing My French Folly I still don't possess the keys to the house ..... missing mail ......  disappearing artisans ..... French taxation ..... a dwindling bank account .......  

Oh, the price of passion!

Hands in the Soil then .......Back to Work

Life here has been pleasantly mundane - which at my age, I prefer to a roller coaster existence. Last weekend we made a trip to the family's cottage; the first in in 8 weeks so it was quite an exhausting few days. The hedges and weeds were out of control again, but we made little headway trimming and tidying up because we had to remove a gum tree which had fallen across a fence on our 12 acre plot a land, (a few kilometres from the cottage), allowing the neighbour's bull to roam freely around our paddocks........ Hours of work, but at least we have a pile of firewood and an erect fence for our efforts..... and glorious mounds of bull dung for the fruit trees.

Husband and I purchased the land (nicknamed Snake Gully, for obvious reasons) with a view to building a house so we could play hobby farmers. But My French Folly has curtailed our construction plans. Despite the lack of a dwelling on site, we still derive enormous pleasure from Snake Gully. There are 10 fruit trees, 10 olive trees and a large pond with yabbies (freshwater crayfish) and 50 silver perch (fish) which we are feeding to accelerate their growth, with the view to eating them as soon as they are about a foot long. Producing, harvesting and cooking one's own food provide simple pleasures, which are deeply satisfying. The older I get, the more I enjoy getting my hands into the soil. Although it is the middle of winter, I picked black olives during the weekend, which I am preparing to preserve after which I will make some marmalade from the lemons off our lemon trees. It is my mid-year holiday now, so I am having a delightful time in the kitchen.
However, next week it's back to work.......holidays over ........ Another lemming moment.......Must learn to swim.

Où sont les clés?...French Keys Please?

Oh where, oh where,

Have my sets of keys gone?

Oh where, oh where, can they be?

On a ring so large,

Keys rusted and worn,

Oh where, oh where can they be?

Despite having purchased My French Folly 10 months ago and completing the sale 7 months ago, I do not possess a set of house keys. The only set resides with a company whom I have engaged to project manage the connection of the essential services to the house.

4 months ago I requested 3 copies of les clefs de la maison to be made…. one set to be sent to me, one set to be sent to Switzerland and the other to be posted to Dijon, which is about 65 km away from mon résidence secondaire.

Apparently this was “no problem”, but no keys appeared. …. No replies to my emails inquiring to their whereabouts. Silence from their end. Concern at my end, and a dwindling lack of confidence in my appointed project mangers.

An urgent email was dispatched late May, stating that I needed the keys as soon as possible.  A French friend, Louis, had volunteered to video My French Folly - he was departing de Australie en France on 20 June. A delayed response. The keys has been copied but lost so further copies would be made and sent toute de suite!

Tenth of June and still no keys. Apparently they were lost in the French postal system. In transit to Australia, Switzerland and Dijon? This does not auger well for my future use of their postal system or for the project management team.

An olive branch…. Louis would be given a set of key prior to his departure from Dijon. Then a correction…. Louis would be met at my house and given the keys.

I received an explanatory email .…of sorts….

We were very sorry about the keys and had tried to pick up another set of keys but the shop closed Saturday, so the owner could go to a wedding and did not open again until Tuesday.

Unfortunately (this is) the French way of life, which is relaxed and laid-back and seems perfect for most of the time, but has its downfalls when you need them to work out side their comfort zone. If our job was easy dealing with these little “French ways” then we would be out of a job.

July and I still do not have a set of key for mon résidence secondaire …..but there is a set in Dijon. Enough said! 

An Ode to the French Lifestyle of ........................

............Jim Morrison - The Doors

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends
It gives a lovely light.
Edna St.Vincent Millay

............Edith Piaf - The Little Sparrow

............Oscar Wilde - a grave with as much graffiti as Oscar had words for any occasion. 

Gâteau au Chocolat - Recipe with a Twist........gluten free

Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.  ~Voltaire

Cooking family meals was an expression of my mother’s love for her brood. Savouring it was our acknowledgement of her affection and efforts. As a child, cooking with mother was my way of spending exclusive time with her in a large, male dominated, family. And it provided first rights to licking out any bowls and spoons -  a right savagely guarded amongst 5 siblings. Whipping up a roux, making pastry, sweet, savoury or suet and baking blind was mastered before my age hit double digits. For me cooking is also a method of retreating from daily stressors. The tradition of cooking en masse continued with my daughter, but took a twist when she was diagnosed with celiac disease in her late teens. Cooking and my beloved Tante Marie now provide new challenges.
Subscribing to the notion that  Nine out of ten people like chocolate. The tenth person always lies. (John Q. Tullius), here is my gluten free version of a French chocolate gateau, or as my daughter calls it........

Miam Gâteau au Chocolat - gluten free....easy & delish

Ingredients
* 135g unsalted butter
* 3/4 (three-quarters) cup castor sugar
* 6 very large eggs, separated (if eggs are too small the cake will be dry)
* 150g grated good quality 85% dark chocolate (Lindt)
* 2 cups of home ground almond meal (process silvered almonds - bought almond meal is too dry)
* 1/3 (third) cup of dry rice crumbs (purchased in a packet at the supermarket) 
* pinch of salt added to the rice crumbs
* 1 tablespoon of dark rum
* additional 90g dark chocolate (for cake topping)
* additional 30g butter (for cake topping)

Method
* turn on the oven to moderate
* line a 20 cm round cake pan with greaseproof paper (pan must be at least 6 cm in depth)
* cream sugar and butter until light in colour and texture (an electric beater is best)
* add egg yolks one by one, beating well after each egg is added
   stir in the almond meal, rice crumbs and grated chocolate (a large bowl may need to be used)
* fold the chocolate-almond mixture though the egg whites in 3 lots
* carefully pour the mixture into the lined cake pan and bake in the moderate oven for 50   minutes (test the cake with a cake skewer before removing from the oven)
* let cake sit in the pan for at least 5 minutes before placing on a wire   rack to cool
* when cold remove the paper lining and spread with the topping
Topping
* melt the additional 90g chocolate and 30g butter in a bowl over hot water
* let the mixture cool to a spreading consistency before covering the top   of the cake.
Slice thinly and serve with cream if desired
Note: 
1. creaming of the butter and sugar is best done in a smaller bowl
2. the cake will be dry if you use smaller eggs and the quantity of the freshly ground almond meal is less than 2 full cups

The Good Life: Keeping Hens in the City

Some are born with a love of hens, some develop a love of hens and some just have hens thrust upon them.

My great grandfather was a poultry fancier. His love of hens was intertwined with his scholar’s fascination for genetics and his passion for fine tasting chicken and eggs. His knowledge of and love affair with poultry has been passed down through the generations as his descendents have continued to keep hens and quail.

The desire for organic produce resulted in our friends acquiring chickens which  kindled their love of hens. Then there are our neighbours who had 3 down-covered chicks thrust upon them after their child had hatched some eggs at school.

I need hens for stress release. For me, the rhythmic sound of cackling hens and collecting newly laid, warm eggs are therapeutic. .

So my Husband has had fowls forced upon him - on 2 occasions. Last weekend I purchased a pair of young Isa Brown birds, which should be laying within the month. A cheaper option to buying mature fowl, but not the preferred option for my Husband.

Their acquisition has heightened the tension in my household to such a level that the birds, yet to be named, now reside in my brother’s garden – a comfortable 10 kilometres away.

Recalling our last batch of egg layers which roamed the garden, was enough to raise my Husband’s blood pressure. Tractor cages were assembled, elaborate drinking contraptions erected and the repairs to our garden were never ending.

The final straw for my Husband was the birds’ untimely demise - a result of my wing clipping. The consulted manuals precisely described, and illustrated how to clip wing feathers – on one wing only.

My desire for symmetry resulted in my birds having both wings clipped. A mistake.

A  pair of clipped wings still enables a bird to become airborne, albeit quite low – but  enough to fly out of our yard (2 birds) and attempt to fly across our larger than average in-ground swimming pool. A reckless decision. The sight of 3 deceased fowl floating on the sparkling blue water and the need to extract another from the pool filter were enough to have my newly acquired Isa Brown hens banished.

Diminished stress for the Husband, heightened stress for me and one very happy brother who has inherited my grandfather’s fascination for “chooks”.

My French Love Affair Began...........

My inspiration and reasons for falling head over heals in love with France lie behind this gate. 

A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; 

it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust. 

Gertrude Jekyll

A chance encounter with Liliane, resulted in our first foray into France. And into her breath-taking Garden of Dreams. Liliane and husband, Pierre are what I imagined the quintessential Frenchman to be: warm, friendly, generous, cultured, energetic, creative, (very creative) and passionate about life. Thus began my French love affair.

This place still remains mon rêve, particularly in times of stress. If only I had the Martins' perseverance, vision and patience............... Thank you Liliane and Pierre for the ongoing pleasure and inspiration that your piece of paradise gives me. 

Adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience. Emerson
This photo is courtesy of Liliane et Pierro Martin.

House in France (My French Folly) - plans have arrived and ........

Need some shutters just like these......

Great anticipation. A twinge of disappointment. Two months past the due date, the plans for the renovations to make the My French Folly habitable, have finally arrived. All I can say is my husband and I  will have to change our names to Bonny and Clyde, as the current financial horizon is looking very bleak.   
The floor plan of the house now resembles a Chinese checkers game. The 18th century oak stair case with its beautiful, hand-woven willow banister is to be 

The proposed site of the 2 windows
on the right side of the wall

moved sideways. The original kitchen is now a proposed bathroom. The salon is to be a kitchen-dinning area into which a washing machine (clothes washing, not dish washing) is to be placed - a sight that would put me off the most tempting French cuisine. The sejour has morphed into a double bedroom; temporarily until the second storey is refurbished.  The library is now a single guest room for my elderly father who can't climb stairs - a practical solution. One doorway is to be blocked off and another inserted. Two large windows are to appear in a solid wall, and the plumbing is not centralised. The proposed  windows are to capture the view of the old church on the adjoining hill - in theory, an excellent idea. However,  after renovating three 19th century houses I am concerned that inserting windows in an 18th century dwelling will create additional unforeseen work which could add substantial costs to a strained budget.

......and a window similar this
one in Chateau de Bournand...

There will be another bathroom up stairs (more euros) to service the additional 3 bedrooms, but the grenier for which so many grand designs have been mooted, doesn't even appear on the  floor plan - apparently because of our minuscule budget, yet we have the plans for the first storey which won't be renovated for a few years! 
It is at times like this I: 
a) want to release a primal scream,
b)  recall some words of  'wisdom' from my Year 11 English teacher: 'girls, if you are going to fall in love, make sure it is with a rich man'.  She married another teacher.
We have kept emphasizing to the designer that once the major works have been completed (power sewage, plumbing, roof and floor repairs) the remainder of our budget will be extremely small. Additional bathrooms, moving stairs unnecessarily and having metres of plumbing zig-zagging under the house is an extravagance and perhaps unnecessary. 
At the moment, I feel that I have 'bitten off more than I can chew', financially, physically and emotionally! Or as my French girlfriend says............ je suis dans le caca.

Le Marais Blues

The colour blue juxtaposed to a backdrop of muted, dull surfaces is intensified by the vibe of the Marais.    

J'adore...........

sa nouvelle et son vieux,

ses transports anciens et traditionnels,

mon escalier à balustre typique,

ses garçons en bleu,

peut-être......

All I need to make a comedy is a park, a policeman and a pretty girl. Charlie Chaplin

son ciel,

 I never saw a man who looked with such a wistful eye upon that little tent of blue which prisoners call the sky.  Oscar Wilde

son eau colorée

There is no blue without yellow and without orange. Vincent van Gogh


 ses magasins bleu.......noir........rouge......

et ses rues.

Oui, Le Marais, je t'adore.