68) Pool progress

The DIGGER.  First came the digger.

Once the basic shape of the pool had been dug, a concrete lorry arrived to deposit the concrete base over reinforcing which had been laid by the Portuguese macons.  It had a very clever extending arm (with a conveyor belt), enabling it to drop the concrete where needed.  The driver, though, seemed a bit bolshy.  I suspect he didn't like being ordered around by Portuguese.  The French tend to be very sensitive about foreign workers who work twice as hard for half the money (in France the equivalent of the Irish navvies are the Portuguese, but they are generally much nicer and easier to understand - than the Irish).  At times it did look as though the concrete might end up being poured down one of our intrepid Portuguese artisan's necks.

I went and had a friendly chat with the lorry driver, and enthusiastically complimented him on his skills with the boom, and soon we were the best of friends.  He seemed to accept that, as these guys were the ones building the pool, they did have some input into where the concrete should be laid.  I think he also had a healthy regard for who was the client and, with me hanging about, it probably was not a good idea to encase the workers in concrete (even if they were foreign).

The concrete was spread all over the reinforcing mesh, whilst lifting the steel bars with their spades to ensure the reinforcing was in the middle of the concrete, rather than simply sitting underneath it, where it would be pretty ineffective (but an all to common fault).

Soon the base of the pool (and the steps) was complete.  It took two lorry loads of concrete and when the driver returned an hour or two later, it was like reuniting with long lost friends.  You can also see the vertical reinforcing bars, which the hollow concrete blocks for the pool sides fit over.  These are subsequently filled with more concrete.

The day after, another lorry arrives with a very cool crane operator, sporting Paco Rabanne shades.  These, however, gave him a bit of a Stevie Wonder look, but it turned out he wasn't blind after all and placed large piles of concrete blocks with great skill and dexterity.  The Portuguese macons weren't there this day so he probably presumed the artisans were French compatriots and very helpfully spread the blocks evenly around the pool (we are using a French pool company, but they have taken on this excellent group of Portugeuse macons to do most of the building work).

Even before the blocks had finished being unloaded, up roars Mr COOL himself; our (French) digger man.  No need here for designer sunglasses to demonstrate/prove his coolness  He had two different piles of different sand in the back of the lorry.  Up went the back; then he moved smartly forward just the right amount, and two (distinct and separate) piles of sand dropped right next to the mixer.  He makes even Jean-Paul Van-Damme look gauche.

67) All creatures great and small (and mechanised)

We seem to have been  visited by a weird and wonderful array of creatures over the past few days.  This green lizard for instance.  Someone told us to watch out for green lizards 'cos they're poisonous.  Everything here seems to be poisonous.  It seemed exceptionally friendly to me, as it scuttled along our wall - and, after all, we certainly won't be eating it.

Next a Scarab beetle came foraging along the terrace.  It was enormous.  And beautiful, just like something out of an Egyptian tomb.  I was surprised to find it in France, and all these centuries later.  It is also known as the Dung beetle, but it (sadly) was not rolling a little ball of dung in front of it;  and now we have our super, efficient new septic tank (certified by SPANC) there's not much chance of finding dung around here.

This is another of the myriad of creatures attracted by the wild flowers in our field (probably poisonous too).

Lots and lots of (almost certainly poisonous) butterflies around at this time of year.  Why do the tourists all come in August when there is so much more to see in May and June?

Given the size of its head, it must be a butterfly of very little brain, and this perhaps excuses this little beautiful (but, quite possibly, deceptively poisonous) butterfly for thinking G's brightly coloured toenail was some sort of exotic flower.  Not much nectar to be found there, but it was very persistent (stupid).

Our Aliums are particularly popular with honey bees.  This is probably a good thing as the poor honey bee seems to be under threat from every corner, from agricultural chemicals, diseases, parasites and now those devilish Asiatic hornets.

We still have bee orchids too.  Very life like, but this particular variety looks like a bee has been high-jacked by a flying duck - perhaps it's a variation on the stork and baby story, a sort of "birds and bees" myth for bees.

The biggest of the orchids, the "lizard" orchid (Himantoglossum hircinum) are now out at last.  I say at last because we have been avoiding mowing or treading on them for the last few months, as their large waxy leaves make an appearance quite early on in the year.  Unfortunately, they seem to like one of our favourite spots in the garden, one of the few in the shade, which has effectively been out of bounds since they first started to emerge.

I'm not really sure why they are called "lizard" orchids.  Perhaps it's something to do with the long twisty tongue-like protuberances they have.

The next creature to arrive was a most enormous CAT....................

66) The Digger Man cometh (again)

A great deal has happened since my last post.  We have been in England and there was a wedding.  As we were rather involved, we didn't get a chance to take many photographs.  No doubt lots will appear on facebook, so I will leave this momentous and happy occasion to others for the time being.  We did, of course, go to considerable lengths to taste and select the wines.  

They seemed to go down very well.

The day after we got back they were due to start on the pool.  We waited.  No one came.  So at about ten I rang the digger man to find out what time he was arriving.  The line was very faint, but it soon became clear he wasn't coming today.  He had had an accident (French artisan excuse no. 7).  He said something about a broken arm.  I wasn't clear whether it was his arm or the arm of the digger (the machine) that had been broken.  This was perhaps the third time we had been told by an artisan that they couldn't make it because there had been an accident.  I was very sceptical, but felt I ought to express some concern.  A combination of annoyance, scepticism and limited French, however, I fear made my sympathy sound just a tiny bit insincere (tant pis).

On Friday the digger man arrived  - with an enormous digger.  For some reason he started by showing me a most horrific scar on his arm (so it wasn't the digger that had got broken).  I (rather sheepishly) expressed genuine sounding (I hope) sympathy.

On Friday it was 30 degrees so we were quite pleased a start was being made on the pool.

Things progressed rapidly and by the end of the day the outline of the plage (pool surround) was complete.

After he'd gone off for the weekend I tried to find out if he had left the keys.  Sadly not.  I had seen lots of actors "hot wiring" cars in the movies, and it looked pretty easy.  G, however, thought this was not a good idea.

On Monday there was lots of spraying of fluorescent red paint.  There were various technical looking instruments and I began to realise it wasn't quite as simple as it looked.

Two holes first; I don't quite know why.........

and then it wasn't long before the hole for the pool started to take shape.

Scraping the bucket sideways (at an angle) was very impressive.

He had all sorts of drilling type bits but, so far, he hasn't needed them.

It seems a massive area he has created, but it really is amazing what you can achieve in a day or two with a really big digger, if you know what you are doing - to be continued...........

65) Orchids galore

We met an orchid officionado the other day and he said that the orchids were all confused this year due to the awful weather we have had over the past month or so.  However, we do seem to be having a bumper crop.  All of these (7 different varieties) have been spied on our own land so far this year.  Last year we found 13 different varieties on our walks around the gite where we were staying, but we hope to find even more this year now we know a bit more about what we are looking for.

64) Wine tasting - a search for the wedding white

Living in an area renowned (or at least in the more erudite circles it is renowned) for its wine, we felt we ought to take on the somewhat onerous task of finding the wine for the up-coming wedding.  The red had already been selected, after a series of tastings, from our local very excellent vineyard  up the road.  However, white is harder to come by in this region.  It appears the main problem is that there is no recognised appellation for Cahors whites.  As a consequence many domaines feel it is not worth making, as presumably it is more difficult to market and you cannot ask as much for it.

Ironically (and confusingly) this actually seems to make it more expensive.  Those few places that do make a white tend to label it as a sort of specialist aperatif wine, and charge over the odds for it.  Not daunted, however, we set out on our quest with enthusiasm and delicious anticipation.  The weather was awful, but we supposed that by the end of our tour the weather would be of little consequence (and we saw a good rainbow).

Even before we had had a drop to drink, whilst merrily bowling along down a very minor country road we almost ran into this very strange, and rather haughty looking, chicken crossing the road.  We blinked.... it was a blinking peacock, in the middle of nowhere (and in the middle of the road).  Do they really have wild peacocks  in France?  Surely not.

Clearly it had suicidal tendencies because it just stood there, slowly turned its head and glaried at us in its supercilious manner, as if asking the question que faites-vous ici?  Actually, having paid our taxes, and it being a public highway, we felt we had a reasonable right of access, particularly in a left hand drive Renault with French plates.  We also knew it would make a particularly tasty roast Sunday lunch.  However, not knowing the penalties for abducting or running down a peacock in France, we waited until it had crossed the road and then continued on.

We found the domaine we'd been looking for but, like most of them at this time of year, it was all shut up.  Having rung the bell several times, somebody eventually appeared - the vigneron.  Steeling ourselves for the arduous task, we got thoroughly stuck in to our degustation.  Although we were looking for white, we were (reluctantly) persuaded to try some of the reds.  And, as well as two whites, we also found a delicious 2005 Prestige (red) which was really quite classy and at a very reasonable price (or so it seemed by taster number seven).

By the end  of our travels we had bought samples of five different whites, all from the immediate area or nearby.  Of course in order to compare them with each other, we had to open them all at once.  Memories of the rest of the evening are a bit blurry...........

63) First arrivals

A cuckoo (not my picture)

Friday the 13th and I heard our first cuckoo ............

A swallow (not my picture)

...........and the next day the swallows arrived.  Summer is on its way but the weather is still lagging behind (cool and windy here).

62) A very sad start to the day

When I looked out the window first thing this morning I saw what appeared to be a fox asleep on the lawn.  I fetched  my binoculars and very gingerly opened the window.  It looked very peaceful and fast asleep.  But there was no movement at all, it was dreadfully still and, it began to dawn on me, it was quite probably dead.

When I went out to see her (she was a beautiful little vixen with a magnificent grey brown brush) she had obviously just curled up, gone to sleep and died on our lawn.  She had been badly injured and presumably had wanted to find somewhere safe to rest.  Who knows what had happened to her.  Perhaps she had been hit by a car or perhaps she had been gored by a sanglier.  It's about now that wild boar are having their young and a mother would not take kindly to an inquisitive fox if she had piglets about.  Although we have not yet seen a wild boar around here there is plenty of evidence of  their foraging marks in the field and the woods.

It was horrible to think of this poor beautiful vixen dying of her catastrophic wounds outside our bedroom window while we slept warm and safe just a few metres away.  In a way it was good to think that she felt safe where she was, sheltered from the wind by our oversized and much despised lelandii hedge.  I wondered if foxes had a particular place where they went to die, like elephants are supposed to.  Could it be that our front lawn is just such a place.  I hope not, but in a way it would be rather wonderful if it was.

I took the little fox across the field and deep into the woods where I found a very quiet and remote sunlit glade where I laid her to rest.  A mythical little corner of the world where foxes can return to die in peace.