It all ended in tears

Another day and more purchases. The garden is taking some breaking down and without the proper tools, it is a nightmare. I can imagine how the Germans felt at Stalingrad; heavy resistance and bogged down in unforgiving terrain.

So here I go again; off to the local gardening store in Carentan to buy a petrol strimmer. I must be getting better at planning the shopping as I arrived thirty minutes before it closed for there two hour lunch break. I wonder what they must eat to take two hours to do it in.

Buying the strimmer was yet another strange experience. My memories of buying something from the big DIY stores in England are totally different to today. I had to get a receipt from a man in the store, take it to the till and then drive round the back to pick it up. In England, it seems a lot simpler; but probably no where as near interesting.
Having done the formalities and then driven round the back of store, I had the pleasure of being served by a really pleasant young man. He explained that he had opened the box and was now going to give me a demonstration of how it worked. Not only did he demonstrate, he put some petrol in it and told me where I should take the grass that I was going to cut. He seemed to be able to read my mind and for that, I was truly impressed. It could have been the fact that it was almost midday and he wanted to get rid of me for his two hour meal.

Once we had got back home and had our 30 minute lunch break, I set about firing up the new wonder weapon. I followed the instructions of the guy from the store and all worked as planned. Re-equipped and having had some rest and relaxation, the offensive, code named green grass, was back on.

After about 30 or 40 minutes of the offensive, my arm was starting to feel the strain of the weight and vibration from the small engine. I felt like had suddenly developed Parkinsons disease and white finger as an added bonus. I decided it was time for a tea break and switched off this contraption that was making me shake like a jelly. I turned round to go back to the house and nearly had a heart attack. There was a strange looking man standing just behind me grinning like a cheshire cat without teeth. Jesus wept! I hadn't heard him as I was wearing ear defenders. I have Parkinsons, white finger and now a nervous disposition.

The man turned out to be one of my new neighbours. It didn't take him more than a minute to tell me that one of my trees was obscuring the sun and that his vegetable plot was suffering as a result. Following his orders, I went to look for myself and acting as if I knew what he was talking about, I agreed and did the face of anguish on behalf of his vegetables. This seem to do the trick and it wasn't long before he insisted on helping me finish cutting my grass. An allie in the war on grass should not be turned away so I accepted his kind offer.

With his help, we managed to get the job done and as a thank you, I invited him to join me for a beer. As I am interested in the history of the war, I asked him about our new house. Apparently it was occupied by the Germans during the occupation. He started to tell me that his relatives owned the house previously but before he finished the sentance, he burst into tears. What a strange situation to find yourself in. In a foreign country, in a new house, with a strange man who is now in tears. I didn't know what to say to him, other than it is OK to cry. It wasn't OK, but what can you do?

I'm sure I have made a friend and I am interested to know more about his life and what he and his family endured during the war. I just hope that if the subject is mentioned again, it doesn't all end in tears.

Ride em cowboy

Before I took over running Ivy House, I mentioned to friends and colleagues back in England the fact that we will have a ride on lawn mower. To my amazement, almost all of my male friends and colleagues said that it was their dream to have one. Strange really, as I had not given it any thought.

I decided to leave the kids in school all day today. I followed the strange system of buying canteen tickets at the Mayors office and consequently put them in a box at the school. Don't ask me why it is like that; all I can assume is that it is yet another form of bureaucracy. As we had a lot of things to do today, the extra time without the kids is a blessing.

I had planned to try the ride on lawm mower to try and spruce the place up a bit before our first guests arrive on Saturday. There seem to be a window of decent weather so I took this opportunity to fire up Tom. My kids had christened the mower Tom after a French TV programme they watch: Tracteur Tom. In French, a ride on lawn mower is called a moteur tracteur; hence tractor Tom.

There is not much call for a ride on lawn mower when you live in a city with a garden of about 30m2. I am being brainwashed little by little as I talk in meters now. I am not sure how big that is in old money, but I dare say that there would not be a big enough turning circle for Tom back in England. Compare that with the acre we have now and as you can imagine, it's game on!

After reading the basic instruction stickers, I was an immediate expert. Like most men, I didn't really take enough time to read them properly and nearly killed myself by starting it in the shed. As I was too busy trying to work out the controls, I didn't realise that I was choking on petrol fumes.

When I had recovered from my near death experience, I drove Tom as if I was lord of the manner. Lord of the manner who was churning up the driveway as he had not realised that the cutting blades were engaged.

After about 30 minutes, I had just about mastered it and was racing around like a German in a panzer during the invasion of France. Just like in the blitzkrieg, I was terrorising this french soil and I was not about to take any prisoners. Until of course I see Alice the au pair looking at me; the look of longing to have a go on Tom. Panzer Tom was not a forgiving beast and I made this point to Alice as if I knew what I was talking about. She knew that I didn't know what I was talking about but didn't want me to know it. Being a typical man, I did not know that she knew it and felt all alpha male for a few minutes. In french, I told her to go easy with her and to not let the revs die down. She looked at me and acknowledged my new found expertise of ride on lawn mowers with an OK, whatever sort of expression.

What I hadn't realised was that Alice only has short legs. To slow Tom down, it is necessary to press a pedal but as she could not fully depress it, Tom shot off like a horse bolting. She screamed as Tom raced across the terrain to recommence the blitzkrieg. As there seemed to be no apparent danger, in French I shouted "ride em cowboy". When we finally got Tom under control, she looked at me very strangely. Apparently, my French version of "ride em cowboy", was more like "ride me you cow". Probably not the best thing to say to your au pair; especially when your wife is working four hours away!

God helped us!

It's an up day today! As I am not religious, I wont thank that certain someone. I thank my parents instead for making me resilient.

After a short rest, Monday morning is here and the start of a new school week. In fact, not a school week; more of a school four days. As the kids do not go to school in France on a Wednesday, we have one more full day to entertain them. If my wife was not a teacher, I would write to Sarkozy to demand that the teachers work more and help us parents. The fact that my wife is a teacher and only has to work four days per week means that I keep my mouth shut!

I have a plan today. After we drop the kids off at school, I have promised Alice that we will go to Carentan to buy a television. Living in a house without a television is like torture for us. More for her than me, but torture all the same. When I tell her the news, she is filled with joy and there is no doubt that my credibility has just hit an all time high.

Some hours later, we return to the house with two boxes of joy. My wife ordered me to buy her a television for her room to allow her some privacy and freedom. Never mind me then! I am not exactly happy to sit on my own in this half empty living room watching French television.

To accompany these two new televisions, I purchased a shiny new aerial. God only knows how I am going to install it without any tools. I left Alice to assemble the aerial and I started planning how this would work. Fortuneately, there is a satellite already installed that is pointing to English TV. Unfortuneately, I am not in possession of a receiver to allow me to watch it. I feel like a am trapped in a sweet shop but have diabetes, I'm morbidly obese and I have an allergy to sugar.

My plan was to splice the link from this dish and connect the shiny new aerial to the cable that had already been installed. Great news; no splicing required. There is a cable joint with the necessary connectors that will allow me to join my aerial. I am beginning to feel like I am part of the A-Team. I'm not sure which one, but I love it when a plan comes together.

Before long, we are up and running and have two boxes of joy, connected to a shiny new aerial, pumping out Secret Story. This is a French version of Big Brother and I am greeted with the sight of an homaphrodite rolling around on a bed fighting with a homosexual and a weired looking black woman laughing her head off. 750 euros out of pocket to watch this garbage. At least it seems to make Alice happy! I guess I better get used to being on my own until the wife gets back.

A Normandy Adventure is our story of moving to France to run a bed & breakfast and self catering gite complex. Ivy House, Utah Beach Normandy, is our new home and is only five minutes walk from the D-Day Utah Beach.

Sunday bloody Sunday

Having spent a nice weekend together, the misery cloud seemed to descend on me once more. My wife would leave for Saint Nazaire today in order for her to work tomorrow. This means that it is just me, Alice the au pair and the kids in the new house. This was a daunting prospect.

When it was time for my wife to leave, I had to put a brave face on for the boys. Surely they are mixed up enough as it is. The last thing they need right now is there mum and dad crying. I managed a British stiff upper lip; however, being French, my wife capitulated and shed some tears. I'm sure there is a link there for World War 2.

The boys are probably more resilient than I thought. They were not happy to see their mum leave, but before long, it was normal service resumed. Making the most of their new space, they were running around without a care in the world; unlike me of course.

The day finished on a low and I had trouble sleeping. A million things buzzing through my brain; a million things that I could have done without thinking about really. Stupid things like fly killing machines, a fly killing napalm air strike and other associated things related to flies.

My life, and no doubt the lives of most people, are made up of ups and downs. If I can finally get some sleep, I will embrace tomorrow and hope that it will be an up. If it's a down, God help us!

Lord of the flies

One of the things I hadn't thought about with a life in the countryside was the insects. Having lived in a city for all of my life thus far, it shocked me to discover that the countryside, as beautiful as it is, has it's fair share of insects. You never see that written in holiday brochures or travel guides.

If you look at reviews of Ivy House on TripAdvisor, you will see a less than complimentary review for the previous owners of Ivy House that mentioned the flies. As we have stated in previous blog entries, this review should have been aimed at the previous owners, Steve and Sarah Lee. However, I can sympathise with the writer of the review, especially if they had not experienced living in the countryside like I hadn't.

I spoke with our new neighbour today and I asked if it is always like this in Normandy. She laughed when I told her that I had never seen more than one or two flies at any one time in a room. She made the point that it is the countryside; however, this year has been the worst that she can remember for flies. She seems to think that it is a result of a very wet July and a hot end to August. It was reassuring to hear that she thinks the flies will die off in the next couple of weeks.

I have decided that I am now the lord of the flies and starting tomorrow, I will visit the stores in Carentan to find a way to banish these pesky things from our house and our gites. There will be no expense spared to make our accommodation irratant free for our next guests this weekend.

I am probably exagerating the problem but I have been brought up to tell the truth. The truth is that our house and gites are in beautiful countryside just opposite the D-Day Utah Beach. The small price we have to pay to languish in this peaceful setting is no doubt the same for all homes in the countryside. This price is called nature. We have to accept that nature has its way of testing us; however, I will fight back with a few crafty insect killing gadgets. They say that nature will always find a way. Let's just say that I intend to stand in its way on this occasion.

Day of days for the kids

It is children’s first day at their new school in Sainte Marie Du Mont. For my eldest son Yoann, it is not his first time in school; however, it is for Peyo.

Shortly before 9, we arrive at the school and I have to say, I probably had more apprehension than them. I don’t understand why but perhaps it is a long lost memory of my first day at school.

We seem to be some of the first people to arrive but a few minutes later, numerous cars pull up and before I know it, there are kids everywhere. Some seem excited but most have the same expression as my children.

I took some time to observe the parents and most seem to know each other and kiss in the typical French manner. I was aware that some of the parents noticed my English registered car arrive and no doubt, we will be a topic of discussion at some point. For the moment, I am not involved with this morning kissing ritual. It is probably not a bad thing either! As I was rushing to get to get the kids ready, I did not have enough time to brush my teeth. I am sure my breath smelt bad that morning so kissing strangers was the last thing I would have wanted to do. Probably the last thing the strangers would have wanted to do as well! Perhaps the comparison between my breath and Camembert would have also been a topic of conversation. As the French have a love affair with cheese, this actually may have worked in my favour.

My eldest son is very sensitive and it was extremely difficult for him that morning. Peyo did not have a care in the world and took to school like a duck to water. Despite their apprehension and suffering, it gives me a few hours to get on with organising the house move. A little later today, I will visit Ivy House to ensure that everything is in order. We trust the current owners but we have been instructed to do this by our Notaire; French bureaucracy rearing its ugly head once more.

Later that day, just before 5 O’clock, I returned to the school to pick the kids up. Just like in the morning, the kissing ritual started again. I had brushed my teeth by then but as I was still a complete stranger, there was no kissing for me. Just as well really as there seemed to be more men than women.

The kids looked happy to see me but also wanted me to suffer for making them endure this experience. I tried to make a fuss and ask them lots of questions about what they had done and learned. As this was met with complete silence, I decided to keep my mouth shut for the short journey back to the gite.

Alice, our au pair, understood that it was a difficult day for them and tried her best to console them both with some balloons. As you can see from the photo, I don’t think it helped really.

Let’s see what their faces are like after the second day at school!

Lines of Communication Severed

We are currently renting a gite near the village of Sainte Marie Du Mont. As the date for the exchange of contracts was put back due to the efficiency of the French bureaucracy, we had no choice other than to wait events.

To try and stay connected with the outside world, we decided to buy a wireless 3G internet key. Due to the rural location of our temporary accommodation, it is not possible to obtain a signal. Our connection to the outside world which drains 40 euros per month is not much of a lifeline. It works, but you need to find a sweet spot. The sweet spot normally means that we have to drive to certain locations to pick up a signal. A bargain for only 40 euros per month and 2 litres of diesel each time you connect.

Despite what was written in the TripAdvisor review, our au pair does exist and as this is the first time she has left home, she has started to feel a little home sick. To make her feel better, I suggested using the Internet to make contact with her friends and family. As soon as the words left my mouth, I realised what this would mean. I could see that this suggestion made her happy so who am I to ruin this enjoyment.

After a short drive to the village of Sainte Marie Du Mont, we managed to achieve a 40% 3G connection. I dare say that it must have been a strange sight for the residents of the village to see an English car pull up outside at ten O’clock at night. Never mind the sight of an older man and a young girl in the car. I agree that it looked a little perverse when the windows start steaming up; however, the windows were not steaming up for the perverse reason! It was out of frustration at the speed in which she could update her status on Facebook. I suggested that she update her status to depressed; however, before we could even get that far, the connection dropped out.

My wife tells me that I am a nice man and to keep this charade going, I made the decision to drive to Utah Beach. The day before, I had managed a half decent signal so I thought it might do the trick. Voila, ca marche! We managed a huge 60% connection and Alice managed to get her message to her friends. I could not help look at what she was writing and when I read her thoughts, I could have cried. Roughly translated, it read: Internet connection is not great, will write more another time.

Merde alors!