It seems a while since I posted anything about the progress of work on the house. We’re all too well aware that it’s only a few weeks till our housewarming party, by which time we really ought to have moved in, but feel as though we’re moving at a snail’s pace, even though we work, most days, from morning to night.

The tiling is all finished, grouted and the cement bloom cleaned off with acid. The garden is in a much better state than in previous years. The kitchen is nearly fitted; Nick and Kieran fitted the chimney to the cooker hood last week. They were going to fit the sink, but it’s a resin one, the same as a friend’s and prone to the same problems of staining as the one in the gite; so plan B – we bought a black granite composite sink on Saturday instead, which I hope will be fitted soon. As sink fitting wasn’t a viable option last week, the lads filled in the time putting together the wash basin unit for the bathroom; it has no legs, so is currently stood on bricks until we decide exactly what height to make it.

You might notice from the photos that, in spite of there being glass panels in the door, no light comes into the hall. When we fitted the door, it rained shortly afterwards and the rain poured straight in, so we decided we’d have to build a porch. I went to the mairie to ask which sort of planning permission we’d need. In typical French fashion, there are different forms for any number of types of permission, all to be filled in in triplicate at least. The lady at the mairie asked if we’d finished the original building work. No, I replied. So we’d need this form, sheaves of paper to be filled in and accompanied by detailed drawings of the porch, including every possible dimension, numerous photos, detailing where each one is in relation to neighbours’ houses, distances from them and the road, etc., etc. It took us three evenings to fill the forms in, which I took to the mairie, then we waited. Eventually the reply came back – refused. Because we’d filled in the wrong forms. I went back to the mairie; the lady said she hadn’t known we hadn’t finished the other works yet(!!??) Had she known, she’d have told me to fill in different ones. I kept my cool, outwardly at least and collected a new sheaf of paperwork, very similar to the previous one, but didn’t this paragraph in the rejection letter mean that we’d need an architect? No, you don’t need an architect for this, said in a “don’t be silly” tone of voice.

Why, I wondered, couldn’t I just re-submit at least those pages that were duplicates, surely they must still have them in Auch (the centre). I phoned Auch; they told me that normally they’d have been sent back to my mairie. So back again to collect the half of my dossier that had been sent back, resisting the temptation to ask where the other half might be. Another two nights of head scratching form filling and we sent off the next lot.

The postman brought a recorded letter this morning; another rejection. He’s a lovely guy who likes to practice his English with us, so we asked him to help decipher the jargon; even he struggled, but we think it’s been refused this time because we needed an architect to do something.

Sometimes banging my head against a brick wall sounds very appealing!