There’s no mains gas around here, so you have the choice of bottled gas or a tank of gas; we inherited the latter, which is fine, if somewhat ugly. We decided to have a new, underground tank installed and set about getting this done, but as we’re learning, nothing, but nothing here is done at the sort of pace we’re used to.

I started by phoning the company, back in May; yes, they’d send somebody out to see us. Weeks went past and we heard nothing; I phoned again, and again, and again….. eventually making such a nuisance of myself that I was given the mobile number of the lady I needed to speak to, who came round (only 3 hours later than the appointed time!) and set the process rolling. There wasn’t a lot of gas left in the tank, but she agreed it was a good idea to order a refill when the new tank had been installed. The first date available for the changeover was August 16th; we found a plumber to join the tank to the pipe in the house and thought it would be easy. Why don’t we yet realise that NOTHING is easy here?! What fools we are!

The digger driver arrived at 8am, closely followed by the plumber. It was quite apparent from the start that there was a clash of personalities; the digger driver wanted to get the job done and the plumber’s work was nowhere near fast or accurate enough, even cutting the first length of pipe too short! There were raised voices and things nearly got very nasty when the digger driver, very skilled at his job, just happened to catch the plumber’s leg with the bucket of his machine. On the dot of midday the plumber, who hadn’t quite finished his part of the task, took off for the statutory 2 hour French lunch break; to wind the driver up even further? Who knows?

Eventually the job was done, so I phoned the company to order a delivery of gas; “Do you have the contract?” ” No, the lady who visited us in July took it with her.” She should have passed it on, but it would seem, didn’t, and is now on holiday and no, nobody else can deal with this.” Do you have the certificate of conformity?” ” No, where do I get one of those?”    “The plumber will have it.” So I rang the plumber, who has sent it off to some organisation or other, who will send out an inspector, who will inspect and send it back to the plumber, who will send it back to the gas company! “How long does this normally take?” I ask, bearing in mind that we’ve got less than a week’s worth of gas in the tank. “Normally it’s quite quick, but this is August…..”, which means everyone’s on holiday and France grinds to a halt.

Just a good thing it’s salad weather!!!!!

And speaking of weather, we’ve often been told that it can be unbearably hot here in August; this is our first August and there’s a heatwave! At 9am it was 27ºC, by 11am it was 30ºC and last time I looked it was up to 38ºC. The forecast is for it to hit 40º in the next few days and there’s no sign of any respite until at least next Thursday. By keeping all the doors, windows and Shuttercraft shutters closed all day, we’ve managed to keep the downstairs part of the house to no more that 26ºC so far, but the bedrooms are warmer, so Nick and I have decamped to the trailer tent in the grange – much more bearable!

We still haven’t got the car back, so we’re spending a lot of time in the pool, just trying to keep cool. What a good investment that was! 🙂

The week started off pretty well with Adrian and Julie’s annual barbecue on Saturday night; the barbecue was great, the weather was perfect and one of Ade’s bands played. Everyone had a great time, sitting out till the wee small hours. Once we’d finished cleaning up the following morning, it seemed like a good idea to meet up in the Pyrenees on Monday for another barbecue; this one to use up some of the huge quantity of leftovers. But the disposable barbecues weren’t great, most people were tired and Izzy was being super-whingey, so the high point of the day was the location, on top of the col d’Aubisque, which was pretty stunning.

We were about to leave when the car made a clunking sound; the steering wasn’t working properly. Not ideal for descending 18km of hairpin bends. It’s amazing how fast 5 men can get under the bonnet of a car, well, under the bonnet, under the engine, inside the engine….. not to mention how knowledgeable they are! A nailbiting hour ensued; would we be able to get back down the mountain or would we have to call out the car rescue services, involving what is still my nightmare scenario – having to make a phone call in French. The conclusion was that we were going nowhere; I had to make that call; and worst of all, I was expected to explain what was wrong with the car! Well, being an old-fashioned type of a gal, I hadn’t a clue in English, never mind in French! So I gave the phone to Nick, who used lots of technical-type words before handing the phone back to me for the “who, where, when and how” type stuff.

The end result was that an hour and a half later the car was winched onto the back of a tow truck big enough to seat 5 passengers and we set off down the hill. The hairpins are tight on a bike and tighter in a car, but positively scary in a big lorry, but eventually we reached the garage, where they booked some transport to take us home (fortunately a rescue package is part of car insurance in France).

We wondered about how we’d pick Alex and Graham up from the airport the following day, or take Gemma and Johnny to the airport today, but the cavalry came to the rescue; Adrian and Julie lent us their car for the next two days.

All seemed to be settling down, though we still don’t know when the car will be ready, until I noticed that the shower wasn’t draining properly this morning. The drains to the septic tank had backed up, so nothing was moving. Nick and Kieran have spent the afternoon with drain rods doing whatever it takes to clear that sort of thing; I haven’t asked and I’d rather not know. One of the (few) advantages of being a woman is that we’re not expected to do such “blue” jobs. Well there have to be some perks, don’t there!

They say things happen in threes; I’m waiting….

We went on a shopping expedition before going back to the UK for the wedding; one of our purchases was a swimming pool, in kit form. So the last couple of days have been spent assembling said pool and today we were able to fill it and make the most of the lovely cool water. As it was 37ºC in the shade today and is forecast to be hotter tomorrow, that’s where we spent most of the afternoon; bliss! 🙂

We’re home! We had a fantastic week back in Harrogate, for the wedding of Alex to Graham. The wedding day itself was wonderful, full of joy and laughter as Alex and Graham started their new life together. Even the weather was kind to us; it only rained when we were inside and was reasonably warm. I haven’t got the official photos yet, but will post some more when I have.

Hugo had an adventure while we were away, staying with John at Ade and Julie’s; he got up to all sorts of mischief and kept John awake at night by chewing his nose, but they both survived the experience. Hugo got a shock last night, though;  he was stalking Hermione when she turned on him, he shot across the garden, leaving Hermione with a beak full of fur!

We brought Izzy home with us, while Alex and Graham are on honeymoon, she’s having a holiday here in Caupenne. So far she’s driven the mower and the digger and helped Kieran excavate the bit of garden for the pool that we’re installing. Gemma and Johnny have joined us and Alex and Graham will be here too next week, so it’s quite a houseful!

Having watched the weather forecast for weeks, the boys finally decided Wednesday was an auspicious day to go on their long-awaited motorcycle trip to Andorra. It was very hot, 35º to 38ºC in the shade, but they found hundreds of miles of twisty, narrow roads, great restaurants, a motorcycle museum and good bars where they could rehydrate in the evenings.

They were in a pizzeria on Friday night, when the sky began to darken and it started to rain; within minutes they were in the middle of a huge hailstorm, with hailstones the size of golf balls and by the end of the storm, some 15 minutes later, the ground was several inches thick in hailstones. Leaves were ripped from trees and flowers in planters in the village looked as if they’d been strimmed; Kieran was relieved that he’d left his towel to dry on the tank of his bike; the towel was soaked, but the tank was undamaged. The seat of John’s bike was ripped by the ferocity of the storm.

Their gear thoroughly soaked, they arrived home a day earlier than planned.

We weren’t idle while Kieran was away; it was far too hot to do anything on Thursday, so having a look around the sales, in air conditioned shops seemed like a good option. We found a new (to us), leather three piece suite in a brocante and another exciting purchase which I’m not allowed to disclose yet, as Nick wants it to be a surprise for the girls when they visit. So you’ll just have to wait and see!

I also finished the tiling in the arriere cuisine and grouted it all; it looks good, if I say so myself.

Today was Julie’s birthday so we invited them to ours for lunch. Julie loves chickens, so it seemed like a good idea to make her a chicken-shaped birthday cake; I’m not much of a cake decorator, but I was very pleased with the result. That is, until the head fell off! Kieran stuck it back together with lots of cocktail sticks, so eating it was quite interesting!

In our garden is a hangar, soon to be a garage with photovoltaic panels on its roof (to sell electricity to the grid),  but before we can have the panels installed, we need to increase the slope of the roof to 25% so that the panels will capture as much sunlight as possible and build a front wall with garage doors in it. The roof is currently made of asbestos, so it needs disposing of safely and legally. I read on a website that all the tips in France will accept asbestos one day a month and that the mairie (town hall) can tell you when that day is, so we went to the mairie in Nogaro, where a very helpful lady suggested we ask at the tip. We went to the tip, but they knew nothing of the scheme. Back at the mairie, the same helpful lady made a few phone calls and eventually gave us the number of someone to call, who gave us the number of the manager of the tip geared up to accept this sort of stuff in this area. Success!

I rang the man at the tip, who explained that we’d need  “les big bags”, which he could supply; so this morning Nick and Kieran went to get the bags as well as disposable boiler suits, masks, and gloves. At 32ºC in the shade, it wasn’t an ideal day for working on a roof in extra clothing, but they’re brave souls and by this afternoon the roof was down and bagged and one load  already taken to the tip. The rest will go in the morning.

In view of the brilliant performances of the British riders in this year’s Tour de France, Nick couldn’t resist the temptation to wind the French up this morning, and turned up for the Sunday cycle club run sporting his yellow jersey. The point wasn’t missed, as he was greeted with cries of “Eh, Bradley!” by several of the cyclists.

We had an email from the club this week, asking for as many riders as possible to be at the clubhouse at the usual time for the Sunday run this morning, in the club strip if possible, to have our photo taken with the French para olympic cycling team. Their races, in the para olympic games,  will be held at the Brands Hatch motor race circuit, which is very similar to the circuit at Nogaro, so this is where they’re training and they wanted to go out with a club today.

There was a tandem, an ordinary bike adapted for the rider who only had one leg and two recumbent, hand pedalled trikes.

We set off up the hill out of Nogaro at a deceptively easy pace (hand pedalled bikes don’t do hills fast, I gather), then the speed started to pick up. I managed to just about hang on for the first 7 or 8 miles, (the gentle warm-up!) as we passed our house at about 25mph, but soon dropped off the back of the peloton, so did my own ride at my own pace. Nick, on the other hand, was in his element, chatting to one of the recumbent riders, who just happens to be the world champion in his discipline and who called Nick Bradley for the whole ride.

I’ve asked for photos to be sent to me, but haven’t had any yet, so if Bruno is kind enough to send me some of his, I’ll post them later.

Yesterday the Tour de France was in the Pyrenees; stages in the mountains are very popular to watch as the peloton is often split up and moves slightly less fast than normal.

We have friends who run a holiday home for weary (and not-so-weary) cyclists 17km from Arreau, one of the towns to be visited, so Nick and I drove to Alison and Ian’s, left the car there and cycled up to Arreau. Ian had already set off with his 15 guests and was on the col de Peyresourde above Arreau, but the road was closed by the time we arrived. We found a shaded spot as it was 30ºC in the shade and scorching in the sun, and waited for the fun to start.

The publicity caravan soon arrived, throwing freebies of every imaginable sort into the crowd; our bag was soon full of biscuits, key rings, hats, frisbees and even a tee-shirt. Once the caravan had passed, the atmosphere of anticipation grew by the minute as we waited for the first of the cyclists to arrive. Somebody in an apartment above a shop was watching it on the TV and occasionally shouted a progress update out of his window. Then we heard the whirr of the helicopters, a sure sign that the riders are approaching, the whistle of a gendarme to warn the spectators to stand well back, and Thomas Voekler and Chris Anker Sorensen whizzed past, taking the hill at incredible speed. The peloton was really strung out; a minute later another four riders came through, followed by groups small and large for the next 30 minutes. We were able to spot Bradley Wiggins as he sailed past, looking very comfortable in his yellow jersey.

Once everyone had gone through, the road was reopened and the cars started to queue to go home; the road which had been almost entirely empty for our ascent was now totally gridlocked for the next half hour or so, as we wove our way between the cars on the descent back to Ian’s.

Three of Ian’s guests were old friends of ours so we ended up by staying to dinner and having a good catch up with them; a great day out.

It was the turn of Magnan, a nearby village, to have their fete this weekend; it included a 30km mountain bike ride and a 12km walk, so Julie, Adrian and I chose to walk while Nick and John (who’s staying at Ade and Julie’s on his holidays) decided to cycle. John was concerned that he hadn’t done a lot of training, but borrowed the stuff and gamely had a go at the ride, which turned out to be very much hillier that expected! I won’t be so mean as to describe the state he was in by the finish, but there was one Brit in the top 3 and another  bringing up the rear.

Having recovered over lunch, John then came into his field of expertise; he’d offered to help me tile the floor of the arrière cuisine (some people have a strange idea of what it means to be on holiday), so we cleared the rest of the tiles, paint, preserves etc out of the way and started. I’d got to the difficult part on my own, with an uneven bit of floor and lots of complicated cutting to do, so I’d stopped before I messed up. We got quite a long way yesterday, then started again this morning and by this evening there are only some edge tiles to cut and lay. It’s going to look good!

This wasn’t actually an adventure for mini boys, but a mini adventure for three as-grown-as-they-ever-get male children. It ended up being mini as the weather curtailed the planned week long trip to Andorra.

It started on Thursday morning with the sanding, varnishing, assembling and delivering of Adrian’s latest little job, a table, to the chateau in Brassempouy. Not exactly either motorcycling related or adventurous, you’re thinking, but he needed the cash for the trip.

They were finally on the road for about 1pm; first stop McDonalds in Orthez at 1.30, but never mind, this was always billed as a real blokes’ trip. With Ade’s bike sounding like a bucket load of spanners rolling down the stairs, the next leg was undertaken. Unbeknown to John and Kieran, Ade’s satnav had the latest software update, allowing the option of choosing the narrowest, most badly finished, graveliest piece of farm track ever to call itself a road; this ended up, eventually, after much grumbling and gnashing of teeth, at Laruns and a well-deserved coffee stop.

Then it was on to the camp site to set up camp, where it was discovered that Ade’s tent was minus pegs – not the best scenario!. However, 23 years of RAF experience in dealing with difficult problems had not been totally lost on Adrian or John, and in true Blokes’ Club fashion, they nicked half of Kieran’s. With tents sorted, they were able to set off in pursuit of twisty mountain roads, completely naked – the bikes, that is, not the riders!

Mission accomplished as far as the twisty roads were concerned, they now felt the primeval need to go out hunting and gathering and after a short walk (thanks in part to Kieran’s smartphone and google maps – an indispensable part of any self-respecting neanderthal’s tool kit), pizza and beer were successfully tracked down, after which they even managed to find their way back to the camp site.

The following morning it was time to head for home, so with everything loaded, it was off in search of breakfast. This came in the form of wild coffee and a roaming herd of particularly vicious pain au  chocolat; then home via some other twisty, though better surfaced, mountain roads, they were back in time for tea and medals!

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