Yesterday evening Friend M came around for an aperitif, and ended up staying for dinner (fish and chips – and home brewed beer of course).

Now, some of you may have been wondering what has been happening with the barn renovation and bathroom construction. Simply put, not a lot. The reason for this is that it is still below 5° C at night, which is too cold for lime concrete to set properly. I suspect towards the end of March, operations to finish laying the floor in the barn will be able to re-commence. Then there’s also the little matter of planning permission; LSS is in the process of drawing up some architectural-type plans which will need to be submitted to the village Mairie. Whatever we do inside the building does not concern them; but we need to replace the large wooden barn door with glass-panelled sliding doors, and install three new windows.

Once planning permission has been received (and the way it works here is that you submit your application; and if you have not heard anything to the contrary within three months, that means permission has been granted) we can then make a trip to BricoDepot for the windows, bits of wood for the partition walls, and various other bits and pieces. And a new bath, of course. The world-famous old bathtub is still currently in use, but I’m a bit tired of folding my knees up to my chin; I’m 6’1″ (182cm) tall, and the bath is only 3’9″ (115cm) long. Easy to carry in and out of kitchen, but not exactly comfortable.

Today was the last hunting day of the season, with the quarry being wild boar and foxes. Needless to say, the hunters saw nothing here. M&O reported that they saw a boar at the aged FIL, but, as usual, missed it. By lunchtime they had finished the drive, so we were able to let the cat and hens out; they had all been complaining bitterly about their confinement. Not only do we not trust the hunters with regards to their species identification (“Oooh, a little wild boar!” Bang. “Oops. That was a cat.”) but their dogs are not exactly well-trained either. (“Woof! A pheasant!” Bite. “Oops. That was a hen.”)

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