posted on 25 July 2006 16:09
by
Mark
Phew what a SCORCHER!!!
Well, the heat is stifling, the streams running off the hills around my house have become muddy trickles, siestas are getting more drawn out and my longing for warmth when shivering in the Vendée in March seems like part of a perverse previous existence on another planet far, far away. And I haven't even left England for the new life in France thing yet.
Not a great deal to report this week, really. We've got about 60 days left, and I'm starting to think that I should have done, and be doing, far more than I am, because at the moment my research is diligent in terms of the hours I spend on it, but not particularly structured. As with everything, I tend to flit between things that interest me rather than focusing on one subject, dull or otherwise, getting to grips with it and then moving on to the next thing on the list. But it really is only research that's outstanding since, as previously reported, 90% of our stuff is in a barn at the farmhouse, so perhaps things aren't so bad.
I'm also fearing that I'll be overtaken by a feeling of being utterly overwhelmed when we wake up on our first morning as French residents. I mean, where do you start? There is so much that we need to do that simply can't be done before we get to France. Taking bite-sized chunks out of the Jupiter-sized whole, washed down with regular glugs of wine, sounds like the way forward, but it would be interesting to find out how others experienced their 'first day'.
My language learning seems to be progressing (waiting for some Michel Thomas CDs to arrive courtesy of the Daily Express), matters relating to tax, health, property etc etc seem to be gradually sinking in and making sense, and I've now accepted that we shall be spending the rest of our days in utter penury, working every hour God sends in chambre/table d'hote servitude to inconsiderate Americans and, even worse apparently, the dreaded Belgians, only to give everything away to Jean-Pierre the Taxman and crippling cotisations. But never mind, the quality of life is so much better, that's what they always say - but who are 'they'? People who go through life avoiding holidaying Belgians? Masochists? Alcoholics, for whom the price of a bottle of vin de table represents a fuzzy nirvana? Lovers of tasteless pinafores? I can't wait.
A bientot, Mark (lying in a pool of cheap red wine in my favourite floral print pinny, in baking Gloucestershire)
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