03/05/2012

Sunshine at last! Lots of lovely sunshine.

Today’s wildlife diary: those bloody cuckoos are starting to get on our nerves. We’re hoping the cat will sort them out but no luck so far.

The morning didn’t start too well. The LSS called Weldom again and was put through to several different people, none of whom had any knowledge of the quote we’d requested. Finally she managed to speak to the original youth who took our order, and whilst on the phone to him she received the quote by email. Obviously he’d forgotten to hit the “send” button last week and had hurriedly remedied this oversight.

We checked the quote and were pleasantly surprised that everything appeared correct. Now for the next challenge; paying for it!

LSS called Weldom back and spoke to the youth again, offering to give card details over the phone so that the order could be placed.

“Ah, non.” Shock, horror! “You want to do what? Pay for it over the phone? Ah, non, we can’t do things like that here. You need to send us a cheque.”
At this point LSS lost patience. To cut a long story short, we’re going to have to go to Aubigny tomorrow to physically put the card in the card reader in order to pay for the goods. The good news is that the manager will be there tomorrow, so we are going to have STERN WORDS with him and demand a discount.

We were then surprised by the arrival of LSS’s cousin and nephew; they had dropped in to visit the aged FIL and he had (once again) complained that yet more plugs had stopped working. As they couldn’t find the key to the “office” containing the electricity mains switch, they came to ask where it was. It turned out it was in the usual drawer in the kitchen, but they had missed it.

A further visit to the upstairs space revealed yet another junction box with a loose connection. I stayed well out of the way.

I took the advantage of the visit by digging around in the toolshed to find a chainsaw sharpening guide (the metal bar to file the anti-kickback links). I managed to find one, but I think it’s for a different size chain. Sigh. More internet ordering I think.

We then drove to Brinon so I could collect my new bank card and chequebook. I was able to use the card, but still can’t check my account online as I’m still waiting for the login details.

As we were in Brinon, LSS took the opportunity to visit the aged FIL’s doctor to renew one of his prescriptions and have a chat about his condition (that of the aged FIL, not the doctor). The outcome was positive; the doctor said that the aged FIL should not be living in his current conditions but should instead be in a retirement home where he could have proper care. So that particular branch of paperwork is the next thing we’ll need to tackle.

Because the ST1100 is booked in to the Honda dealership in Blois tomorrow for an examination to determine whether it is a legal vehicle for French roads, I wheeled it out of the barn this afternoon to check that it was ready for the trip. I discovered that the back tyre was flat, as I’d managed to pick up a screw in the tread. It must have been on the trip down because the head of the screw had been worn shiny. Fortunately I always carry a tyre plugger on the bike so I soon had the puncture repaired. The bike was extremely dusty as well; it’s been parked in the barn for a month! We managed to find our hosepipe reel, but had an entertaining twenty minutes looking for the plastic connector which connects the pipe to an ordinary tap thread. Eventually we found one, connected the hosepipe to the ballon (the one which you have to switch on the pump for every 5 minutes) and gave it a wash. LSS decided to wash all the mud off her car as well; the roads leading to the property are farm tracks, and with all the rain we’ve had they’ve become quagmires. I’m pleased to report the sides of the car are now once again green instead of mud-brown.

P.S. For those of you who contacted me about yesterday’s post in which I mentioned having a couple of glasses of wine, and how did I reconcile this with being as self-sufficient as possible without spending any money, I didn’t buy it. The late MIL (Mother-In-Law) was a compulsive shopper (there is a name for this disease but it escapes me at the moment). Anyway, we discovered some wooden boxes in a disused outbuilding at the aged FIL’s property. They contained bottles of plonk, (I won’t call them wine) all at 1997 bargain-basement prices, and all with the distinct possibility that they had become bottles of vinegar. (The late MIL hardly ever drank wine, and the aged FIL has said he won’t touch them).

So, you understand, for health and safety reasons we need to make certain whether they have turned into vinegar or not.

So far, not.

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