A while ago, my friend Terrie phoned to ask if her friend’s son could come to stay with us for a week’s immersion course in French. He was studying in Paris, but the course was run in English and the other students, from all over the globe, wanted to practice their English, so his French wasn’t improving as quickly as he’d hoped. We were unsure, but agreed. The idea was that Tom would work mornings with Nick and study French with me in the afternoons; it didn’t quite work out like that, through nobody’s fault.

We started well enough; Nick and Tom cleared all the piles of soil, left from installing drains behind the house, then they sorted and restacked all the firewood, but although we started many conversations in French, a group of English, speaking amongst themselves in French never felt right, and we soon resorted to English, almost without realising. Tom was looking tired after a couple of days of working at Nick’s pace, so I think he was pleased to be asked to help with my English classes at the CLAN on Tuesday afternoon. At the end of the classes, I asked if anyone would be willing to speak to him in “real” French for an hour or two, after all, it would be so much better than talking with us. My classes consist largely of middle-aged to elderly women, so you can imagine the response when offered the chance to spend time with a handsome young Englishman – we hardly saw him after that!

One took him out to lunch, then to collect her sister’s dog and take it to the vet’s. Another took him to the market, then to hers for lunch, after which her husband took him to a veteran rugby players’ match and dinner in the evening. The director of the local school of music, one of my token male students, took him to lunch and around the school for another day. He joined the walking club on Sunday morning and came with us to a reception held by the new mayor of Caupenne in the afternoon, as well as going to the local cinema to watch a French film – without subtitles, so he was able to listen to and speak plenty of French.

I think he enjoyed his stay; he was made an honorary Cawthray as he tucked into what we regard as healthy quantities of food and drink, but which defeat most normal people. The house once again feels quite empty now that he’s left.

Il y a quelque semaines, ma copine, Terrie, m’a appelé à demander si le fils de sa copine pouvait rester chez nous pour un cours d’immersion en français. Il est étudiant à Paris, mais le cours est en Anglais et les autres étudiants, de partout dans le monde, veulent pratiquer leur Anglais, donc son français n’ameliorait pas aussi rapidement qu’il l’avait espéré. Nous n’etions pas surs, mais on a accepté. L’idée était que Tom travaillerait les matin avec Nick et étudierait le français avec moi dans l’après-midi; il n’a pas tout à fait fonctionné comme ça, la faute de personne.

Nous avons commencé assez bien; Nick et Tom ont bougé tous les amoncellements de terre, laissé après l’installation de drains derrière la maison, puis ils ont triés et empilé tout le bois de chauffage; mais, bien que nous avons commencé de nombreuses conversations en français, un groupe d’anglais, se exprimant en français entre eux n’a jamais été naturel, et nous avons vite eu recours à l’anglais, presque sans réaliser. Tom avait l’air fatigué après deux jours de travail au rythme de Nick, donc je pense que il était heureux quand je lui ai invité à m’aider aux cours d’anglais au CLAN mardi après-midi. À la fin des classes, j’ai demandé si quelqu’un pourrait lui parler en «vrai» français pour une heure ou deux, car ça serait tellement mieux que parler avec nous. La plupart de mes étudiants sont des femmes d’un certaine age, vous pouvez donc imaginer la réponse à la possibilité de passer du temps avec un beau jeune Anglais – nous avons à peine le vu après ça!

Une lui a ammené manger à un restaurant, puis à recueillir le chien de sa sœur et le prendre au vétérinaire. Une autre lui a ammené au marché, puis chez elle pour le déjeuner, après que son mari l’a ammené à un match de rugby et un dîner des vétérans joueurs de rugby la soirée. Le directeur de l’école de musique locale, un de mes étudiants males, l’a emmené à déjeuner et autour de l’école pour un autre jour. Il a rejoint le club de marche le dimanche matin et est venu avec nous à une réception organisée par le nouveau maire de Caupenne l’après-midi, ainsi qu’aller au cinéma local, voir un film en français – sans sous-titres, donc il a écouté et parlé beaucoup de Français.

Je pense qu’il a apprécié son séjour; on l’a nommé un membre honoraire de la famille Cawthray, à cause de son capacité de manger  et de boire. La maison sent tout à fait vide une fois de plus maintenant qu’il est parti.

The first band practice of the new year was deemed a good excuse for a celebration. To ensure that we actually did some rehearsal as well as eating and drinking, we met an hour earlier than normal. Everyone brought goodies to share; there was ham and home made pate, quiches, salads, a spiced Morrocan rice dish, breads, cheeses, a Norwegian sort of smoked ham, made from a leg of lamb, that Cathrin brought back from her Christmas trip home, English christmas cake and more booze than we could possibly get through in one evening. Alain’s wife, Michelle, joined us, as did Nick, so it was a good party.

It was nearly 11pm by the time we finished eating and started the less-than-serious task of rehearsing some music, accompanied by much hilarity, as Hervé insisted that he couldn’t possibly sing his harmony unless I sang it right in his ear, and the lads tried to distract Nellie by singing the wrong words to Black Velvet Band, in French.

I think a school report would say “must try harder”, as we must next time; I’m involved in helping the walking club organise a St. Patrick’s day bash, with a meal, music (us) and dancing, at the Caupenne salle des fetes, so we’ll have to be on top form for that.

La première repète de la nouvelle année a été considérée comme une bonne excuse pour une célébration. Pour nous assurer que nous  jouerions ainsi que de manger et de boire, nous sommes arrivés une heure plus tôt que la normale. Tout le monde a amené quelquechose à partager; il y avait du jambon et pâté, des quiches, des salades, un plat de riz marocain aux épices, du pain, des fromages, une sorte de jambon norvégienne  fumé, fait d’un gigot d’agneau, que Cathrin a amené de son voyage chez elle, un gâteau de noël anglais et plus d‘alcool que nous pourrions boire en une seule soirée. L’épouse d’Alain, Michelle, nous a rejoint, aussi que Nick, c’était donc une bonne fete.

Il a été presque 23 heures quand nous avons fini de manger et avons commencé la tâche moins-que-grave de répéter un peu de musique, accompagnée de beaucoup de gaieté, comme Hervé a insisté  qu’il ne pouvait pas chanter son harmonie sauf si je le chantais à l’oreille, et les gars ont essayé de détourner Nellie en chantant les mauvais mots de Black Velvet Band, en français.

Je pense qu’un rapport de l’école dirait “doit mieux faire”, comme il nous faut la prochaine fois; je suis impliqué en aidant le club de randonnée d’organiser une fete de la Saint-Patrick, avec un repas, la musique (nous) et de la danse, à la Salle des Fêtes de Caupenne, donc nous devrons être en pleine forme pour cela.

Following the attack on the journalists in Paris last week, the mayor of Nogaro, in line with mayors around the country, organised a manifestation this morning, to show our solidarity with those killed.

We gathered outside the Mairie at 10 o’clock; there was a minute’s silence, followed by a quiet procession through the town. For a town of a mere 2000 inhabitants, it was a good turn out, estimated at between 500 and 700 people. Many who couldn’t join us, such as the elderly and shopworkers, stood by their doors and windows as we passed and the local gendarmes stopped all the traffic.

We just have to hope and pray that such a peaceful demonstration of the strength of feeling this attack has provoked will have some impact on the mindset of fanatics like the perpetrators of the Paris attack on freedom of speech.

Après l’attaque sur les journalistes à Paris la semaine dernière, le maire de Nogaro, en ligne avec les maires à travers le pays, a organisé une manifestation ce matin, pour montrer notre solidarité avec les personnes tuées.

Nous nous sommes réunis en dehors de la Mairie à 10 heures; il y avait  une minute de silence, suivie d’une procession tranquille à travers la ville. Pour une ville d’à peine 2000 habitants, il y avait du monde, estimé à entre 500 et 700 personnes. Beaucoup de ceux qui ne pouvaient pas se joindre à nous, comme les personnes âgées et ceux qui travaillaient aux magazins, se tenait par leurs portes et fenêtres que nous passions et les gendarmes locaux ont arrêtés toute la circulation.

Nous devons espérer et prier pour que cette manifestation pacifique de la force de sentiment que cette attaque a provoqué aura un certain impact sur la mentalité des fanatiques comme les auteurs de l’attentat de Paris sur la liberté d’expression.

For anyone who thinks I must have left the country; I’m still here, but haven’t been able to get anywhere near the computer for the last three weeks. So I’ll wish anybody reading this a rather belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Preparations for Christmas started well in advance; I don’t normally make a Christmas cake, but as the whole family was to be together for the first Christmas in four years, it would have been rude not to. Then there was the perennial problem of the shower; yes, it was leaking again, so I had to reseal it for the umpteenth time. This time, we weighted it down with what Nick estimated to be at least 100kg of roofing tiles; it’s held so far and I’m keeping fingers and toes crossed. We hadn’t enough space for everyone to sleep in the current house, so we swept out the bedrooms in the new house, put up beds, found rugs, spare lamps and low tables and hung dust sheets over the windows. Nick turned on the heating and it was quite comfortable and homely – well, relatively speaking!

Alex, Graham, Izzy and Imogen were the first to arrive, flying in from Harrogate for 3 weeks, followed by Gemma a couple of days before Christmas, thoroughly exhausted after a whirlwind trip around the UK en route from Australia. Kieran and Alice stayed when they could, doing the rounds of both families. What a good thing the main French celebration is Christmas Eve, which they spent with Alice’s family, followed by Christmas Day with us.

I’d ordered a load of ducks, to preserve, and a friend came round in the week leading up to Christmas, to show me how to make foie gras in a terrine for Christmas day and in jars for later on, as well as how to confit the legs, gizzards and hearts and make fritons of the bits left in the bottom of the pan. She lent me the pans to cook them in; the most enormous pans I’ve ever seen, measuring nearly a metre across. I spent an evening preparing the foie gras, a day cooking the rest and another day sterilising the produce in large jars, but it will be worth it to be able to serve our own confit de canard.

We didn’t have room for a real tree, so everybody was asked to make a Christmas tree, though only Izzy, Alex, Kieran and I actually managed it, decorating them with Christmas biscuits that Izzy helped make and decorate.

Christmas lunch, though I say it myself, was a great success. (I have only twice made Christmas lunch before, so I didn’t want it to be a disappointment.) We started with chestnut soup, followed by smoked salmon and cream cheese rolls, then came the terrine de foie gras, which just melted in the mouth. Next was a trou Gascon (lemon sorbet served in white armagnac), to cleanse the palate, followed by beef wellington and heaps of veg. By this time we were all pretty stuffed, so took a couple of hours rest before we tackled the cheese and salad, then finished off with Christmas pudding or cheesecake. In total, I think we were at table for about 7 hours – respectably French!

The weather, for the most part, was good. Cold nights and crisp, frosty mornings were followed by gloriously sunny days. We had trips to the Christmas market in Pau, to Marciac and to the New Year celebrations in Viella. We ate in lots of restaurants as well as spending Boxing Day at our neighbours, Kate and Rob’s, where we also saw the New Year in. Gemma had already left before the year’s end, her week’s stay finishing all too soon.

Alex, Graham and the girls left yesterday; a very tearful Izzy wanting to stay here for ever and ever. We were sorry to see them leave, but it’s good to have our home back.

Je suis désolée, mais je suis trop fatiguée de traduire tout ça en français; je traduirai la prochaine poste, comme d’habitude. Je vous souhaite, un peu tardivement, Joyeux Noel et Bonne Année.

One of my students, Tracy, is completely animal mad; she has cats, dogs, goats, horses, pigs, chickens, ducks and a goose, Clementine, which she thinks is female. She had already agreed in principle to fostering our goose, as long as hers is female, and was looking forward to the challenge of taming “the beast”, who had attacked her on more than one occasion.

When Nick had to go to England last week, I really couldn’t cope with the thought of having to do battle with the monster (and lose) twice a day while he was away, so he and Tracy agreed to a trial.

When we delivered the goose Tracy announced that she’d decided to rename him Terminator; she’d warned her husband about how ferocious a beast he was, but when Nick took him out of the trailer, he made not a sound. Nick put him in the enclosure with the other goose and the ducks; he stood quietly in a corner, until one of the ducks attacked him, when he ran away! Tracy’s husband must think we’re all liars! I almost felt sorry for him, no longer the king and malevolent dictator of all he surveyed, until I remembered how often he’s attacked me over the past two years.

Nick misses him, of course, but he has full visiting rights and Tracy gives us regular updates. She’s now calling him Norman and says he’s unrecognisable as the bully he was; he’s even getting quite friendly with Clementine. Perhaps it’s just that he now has company as well as a huge pond to swim in, but the transformation is incredible and for my part, I’m loving being able to go into the garden without a bodyguard.

Earlier this year we were told that the band could no longer use the rehearsal room in Aire sur l’Adour; a certain lady, Madame P, had taken a dislike to us. So we found somewhere else to practice, in the village of Lannux.

A tiny village, Lannux has a great music festival each year, of which the town council of Aire, it seems, is quite jealous; the mediatheques of Aire, Barcelonne and Eugenie les Bains were to hold their AGM in Lannux and various musicians, including us, were invited along to play. It turned out to be a sort of audition as the mediatheques all want to hold music festivals in their own villages; each of us was given a 15 minute slot to do our stuff, and there was a professional magician-cum-ventriloquist hired, to keep everybody awake, perhaps? Madame P was there, though she wouldn’t make eye contact with those band members she has had dealings with.

A local bigwig from Barcelonne started the evening with the inevitable long-winded French speech, to be followed by the magician, very accomplished and hilarious to watch. Batiste was next on, a 14-year-old from Lannux who sang songs of his own composition, then Françoise who played guitar and sang, again songs she had written herself, inspired by her travels.

At this point there was a break for everybody to get the main course of their meal; I must admit to having been too nervous to actually eat anything; and once we’d all sat down again, the magician came back, transformed this time into a ventriloquist. It was our turn next and I’m pleased to say we played well; even Madame P stopped talking for the first time that evening and listened. We were followed by the mayor of Lannux and his band, who wrapped the evening up on a very pleasant note.

I heard from Jacques this week that he’s in negotiations with the mediatheque at Aire, to play at an event for St. Patrick’s day next year. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mme. P.

While I was in Harrogate, Nick kept busy, filling, gardening, making a workbench for my workshop; but he did have a day off when Nellie and Hervé invited him round.

Hervé is a real countryman; he was a shepherd for 25 years and still has a small flock of sheep in his garden, as well as an amazing veg plot;  he knows where to look for the best mushrooms, how to deal with injured animals and has the sharpest eyes I’ve ever known. When we’re driving home from band practice at 1am, he’ll suddenly slow down and seconds later a pair of deer will leap across the road in front of the car, or he’ll stop and get out of the car to pick a salamander up off the road and put it in a safe place.

You only see salamanders after rain in November,  and Nick had never seen one; so he was delighted by his invitation, not just to eat, but to look for mushrooms and salamanders as well. He and Hervé found plenty of mushrooms, not the ordinary ones, but something special, whose name I’ve forgotten, and in the evening they were lucky enough to spot a salamander on the edge of the road, so Nick was very happy with his day out.

Quand j’étais à Harrogate, Nick etait bien occupé en faisant les joints, le jardinage,  un plan de travail pour mon atelier; mais il a eu un jour de congé lorsque Nellie et Hervé l’ont invité.

Hervé est un vrai paysan; il était un berger pendant 25 ans et a toujours un petit troupeau de moutons dans son jardin, ainsi qu’un  potager magnifiquet; il sait où se trouve les meilleurs champignons, comment soigner des animaux blessés et a les yeux les plus fortes que j’ai jamais connu. Lorsque nous rentrons de la repete du groupe à 1h du matin, soudainement il ralenti et quelques secondes plus tard une paire de cerfs sautent sur la route devant la voiture, ou il s’arrête et sort de la voiture pour prendre un salamandre au large de la route et le mettre dans un endroit sûr.

On ne voie les salamandres qu’après la pluie en Novembre, et Nick n’en avait jamais vu; donc il s’est réjoui de son invitation, pas seulement pour manger, mais pour chercher des champignons et les salamandres ainsi. Lui et Hervé ont trouvé plein de champignons, pas ceux ordinaires, mais quelque chose de spécial, dont le nom j’ai oublié, et le soir, ils ont eu la chance de repérer une salamandre au bord de la route, donc Nick était très content avec son jour.

Our daughter Alex had a new baby at the end of October; a beautiful little girl called Imogen, so I went back to Harrogate to give Alex and Graham a hand for a little while. A huge thank you to Anne and Peter, for putting me up, putting up with me and feeding me superbly.

The weather was typical of Harrogate in November; cooler than I’m used to, frequently wet and constantly grey, but that didn’t prevent me enjoying my stay. My duties weren’t too arduous; taking Izzy to and from school, going to the Brownies Christmas Fair and giving Imogen lots of cuddles while Alex caught up on sleep and Graham either went to work or edited photos, leaving me plenty of time to catch up with friends.

One of the high points of my stay was the day I arranged to meet up with my old friend Terrie, whom I hadn’t seen since we moved over here. We met in Derby, the half way point between our locations, and as the sun was making a half hearted attempt to break through the clouds, we decided to go to the National Memorial Arboretum in the afternoon. On arriving we discovered that it was built in 2007 to commemorate members of the armed forces who have lost their lives in the course of duty since the end of the second world war. It soon occurred  to me that my father would be remembered here; a navigator in the RAF, he and the pilot were killed during the Berlin Crisis in 1961, when the plane they were flying was banking steeply and the air frame collapsed, due to metal fatigue. When I mentioned this, the staff at the centre couldn’t have been more helpful, taking me to the spot where I’d find my Dad’s name, along with that of his pilot.

It’s a  beautiful memorial in a stunning location, an oasis of peace and tranquility in the Staffordshire countryside, the autumn colours of the trees lit by the weak sun; the perfect setting for what was obviously quite an emotional moment for me. It didn’t put a damper on the day, though, as Terrie and I talked and laughed as if we’d seen each other just days ago instead of years.

Nick picked me up from Bergerac airport last night; by the time we’d found somewhere to eat and driven home it was midnight, so I had to wait till this morning to see what he’d spent his time doing. He’s made progress on the plasterboard filling – the end is now in sight, as well as starting to make the worktop and storage for my workroom, parking up the digger under the abri for the winter, sorting a load of firewood, doing some gardening and even cleaning the kitchen for my return! Will miracles never cease!

Notre fille Alex a eu un bébé à la fin Octobre; une belle petite fille qui  s’appele Imogen, alors je suis retourné à Harrogate pour aider Alex et Graham  pendant un petit moment. Un grand merci à Anne et Peter, pour me loger, et me nourrir superbement.

Le temps était typique de Harrogate en Novembre; plus frais que je suis habitué, souvent humides et constamment gris, mais cela ne me empêche profiter de mon séjour. Mon metire ne était pas trop lourd; amener Izzy à et de l’école, aller à la Foire de Noël Brownies et  beaucoup cajoler Imogen tandis qu’Alex rattrapé sur le sommeil et Graham est soit allé travailler ou a édité des photos, me laissant beaucoup de temps pour rencontrer avec des amis.

Un des points forts de mon séjour était le jour quand j’ai rencontré mon ancienne amie Terrie, qui je ne avais pas vu depuis que nous avons déménagé ici. Nous avons rencontré à Derby, le point à mi-chemin entre nos emplacements, et grace à un soleil faible qui tentait de percer les nuages, nous avons décidé d’aller à la National Memorial Arboretum pendant l’après-midi. En arrivant, on a découvert qu’il a été construit en 2007 pour commémorer les membres des forces armées qui ont perdu leur vie dans l’exercice de leurs fonctions depuis la fin de la seconde guerre mondiale. J’ait vite compris que mon père serait nommé ici; un navigateur dans la RAF, lui et le pilote sont morts pendant la crise de Berlin en 1961, lorsque l’avion qu’ils volaient inclinait fortement et le chassis de l’avion s’est effondrée, en raison de la fatigue du métal. Lorsque je en ai parlé, le personnel du centre ne aurait pas pu être plus sympathique, un monsieur m’a ammené à l’endroit où j’ai trouve le nom de mon père, ainsi que celle de son pilote.

Ce est un beau monument dans un endroit magnifique, une oasis de paix et de tranquillité dans la campagne de Staffordshire, les couleurs d’automne aux arbres éclairés par le soleil faible; le cadre idéal pour ce qui était évidamment un moment très émouvant pour moi. cepandant, il n’a pas mis un frein à la journée, et Terrie et moi parlait et riait comme si nous nous avions rencontré il ya quelques jours au lieu de quelques années.

Nick m’a cherché à l’aéroport de Bergerac hier soir; lorsque nous avons trouvé un resto et conduit vers la maison, il étaitb déjà minuit, donc j’ai dû attendre ce matin pour voir comment il avait passé son temps. Il a fait des progrès en faisant les joints de plaques de plâtre – la fin est en vue, ainsi que de commencer à faire le plan de travail et de stockage pour mon atelier, il a stationné le mini-pelle sous l’abri pour l’hiver, chargé de bois de chauffage pour l’hiver, fait un peu de jardinage et même nettoyé la cuisine pour mon retour! Des miracles ne cesseront jamais!

Nearly two years ago, we signed up to have photovoltaique panels fitted. We chose a small, family business, that seemed efficient. While waiting for them to fit the panels, we thought they must have gone out of business, as we couldn’t contact them for months; but eventually they turned up and did the work, and did a good job.

We waited to be linked up to the grid, and waited, and waited. Eventually, the man said that yes, they’d received some documentation, but in a format they couldn’t read, so they’d ignored it. After a good deal of nagging, they contacted the sender and we had the boxes fitted outside the house. I asked the installer how long it would be before we were hooked up, but he was non committal.

More time elapsed; I kept calling the company and eventually the woman told me to ring the Consuel, which I did. They told me that the paperwork had been filled in wrongly, so they could do nothing; it would have to be done properly. Back to Ecothermic, our installer; she made excuses, saying that she’d filled it in as she would have done for their departement, but as we’re in a different departement, it hadn’t been right, so it wasn’t her fault. I kept ringing; she sent the papers off again, wrongly filled in again. I asked her to contact the Consuel, she said she would, but didn’t and now won’t reply to phone calls or emails.

Two weeks ago, I phoned the Consuel; the man told me that in two weeks our dossier would be archived, after which they would send somebody to inspect the work and fill in the paperwork. That sounded like progress. But when I called today, I was told that that was wrong; the dossier has been archived, but we now need to find another photovoltaic installer, who is willing to take over the dossier and who is “serieux” (knows what he’s doing), and no, they certainly couldn’t recommend anyone. She said that I’d just have to ring round, maybe the third or the fourth will be prepared to take this on.

In the meantime, I can just tear my hair out!

Tomorrow I’m going back to Harrogate for a few days to meet our new baby granddaughter, so I can calm down a bit before I start the next round of frustration.

Kieran came over last week to help Nick get on with the abri, an extension to the cabanon (garden shed). It will provide a place to store firewood over the winter and hang washing when it’s either wet or too sunny.

It was started two years ago, when they laid the concrete base, then a young visitor, Chris, wanted to learn how to bricklay, so he did his apprenticeship building the back wall. Since then, nothing had happened until a few weeks ago, when Nick decided he wanted it useable by this winter.

The lads spent a day putting in the big wooden supports, all old beams taken out of the house, and very rustic. The next day they got the roofing trusses in place and the lats, and as I went out in the late afternoon, I heard Kieran say that he’d only be going home when the roof was finished. They hadn’t even started tiling at this point, so I didn’t take him seriously, but when I got home two hours later, they’d completed the tiling, some of it by torchlight, and the two of them were sitting by the fire looking like zombies, having worked a straight, very strenuous 11 hour day.

It’s not quite finished, but is very useable and at least the firewood will stay dry this winter.

Kieran est venu la semaine dernière pour aider Nicktravailler à l’abri, une extension du cabanon. Il sera un endroit pour stocker le bois de chauffage pendant l’hiver et l’accrocher le linge quand il pleut ou fait trop ensoleillé.

Le projet a été lancé il ya deux ans, quand ils ont posé la base de béton, puis un jeune visiteur, Chris, voulait apprendre à construire, il a fait son apprentissage en faisant le mur arrière. Depuis ça, rien n’est arrivé jusqu’à il ya quelques semaines, quand Nick a décidé qu’il voulait le finir pour cet hiver.

Les gars ont passé une journée en mettant les grands supports en bois, les toutes des vieilles poutres prises de la maison, et très rustiques. Le jour suivant, ils ont mis les supports de toit en place et le liteaux, et quand je suis sorti à la fin de l’après-midi, j’ai entendu Kieran dire qu’il ne rentrerait chez lui que quand la toiture est terminé. Ils n’avaient même pas commencé poser les tuiles en ce moment la, donc je ne l’ai pas pris au sérieux, mais quand je suis rentrée deux heures plus tard, ils avaient terminé la toiture, la dernière partie à la lampe de poche, et les deux s’etaient assis à coté du feu, ressemblant à des zombies, après avoir travaillé une journée dur de 11 heures.

Il est pas tout à fait terminé, mais il est très utile et au moins le bois de chauffage restera au sec cet hiver.