Le rêve impossible

Oh it’s been too many years to mention now.  Hunting for that perfect piece of kitchen furniture to hold all the plates and other shish.  So “Le reve impossible”, inside four shelves with plates at the top and trugs on the lower shelves with tools, paint brushes, sellotape and scissors, together with all those tiny metal clips, nails and springs that come from who knows where.  Outside, two doors and one or two drawers at the bottom, perhaps.  Colour, “French Grey” what else!!!!! On top, a demijohn or two.

I’ve scoured the brocantes but still haven’t found that perfect armoire. Also brocantes can be very expensive.

I’ve met people in their local village and then followed them back to their homes to view armoires in barns.

I’m always looking at LeBoncoin. And tend to find the ideal one just as we are heading back to Blighty.

I’ve been called a time waster (in French) because when I’ve travelled miles to see one and oohed and arhed over it, I’ve come home and ultimately changed my mind.

I’ve had several telephone conversations in French that have completely exasperated armoire owners who’ve then sold to someone who’s clearly able to understand what the hell they’re saying. Why wouldn’t you?

I’ve walked through the world of Maison du Monde on many an occasion and seen just what I’m after. But in the cold light of day, the quality’s just not there.

I’m not on Facebook, but have even resorted to pleading with hubby to leave comments and send direct messages in search of that elusive perfect piece of kitchen storage.  

And still I’m armoireless.


And so I lament

Le rêve impossible

To dream the impossible dream
To paint the unpaintable armoire
To bear with unbearable sorrow
When gazumped from afar
To gaze into Maison du Monde
To search from brocante to brocante
To try when your arms are too weary
To search one more time through Leboncoin

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right to spend cash
And be willing to march for that heavenly cause
To reach the unreachable armoire




And already this week, several have slipped though my fingers.

Wish me luck!


avoir le cul borde de nouilles – to be a lucky bastard

“Avoir le cul borde de nouilles” I’m happy with this label.

And it’s great to be back en France again, even after that 15 hour drive. Not so nice to be greeted with a load of builders mess though. I’ve just been out in the garden armed with bin liners to try and do a spot of tidying up, then the heavens opened so I’ve dived inside for cover. We are all very tired and I don’t think much else is going to get done today. Why are builders so messy????  A response from Instagram suggested it’s because they get paid to build and not to clean up.  But I think the best builders will do both.

So even after tidying up, I’m feeling vraiment avoir le cul borde de nouilles. The extension has now finally got its coat of crèpi and the only thing left to do is the covered area at the back of the house. So next summer we can just kick back and relax and really enjoy ourlittlehouseinfrance. So this all too brief break will involve lots of tidying up, repairing earlier builders disasters, planting lots of little cuttings that I have brought from the UK to improve the look of the garden and having several bonfires of Leylandi branches that we cut down at the end of the summer.  Oh, and of course, some trips out and about, after all it is a holiday too.

La Rentrée – Nous rentrons a l’Angleterre 

Approximately 10 hours to Boulogne Sur Mer yesterday and an overnight stop there and now next morning we’re sitting on the train ready to depart for England. Looking forward to seeing Rose (pussy cat), Tamarind (our UK home) and friends. Leaving behind sunny, blue skies and grape vines. Interesting new places and people. New friends. Le Petit Coquelicot (our French home) and fig trees, full of ripening figs. 

🇫🇷France avec ma belle-mere🇫🇷

Nous avon besoin d’un parapluie☔️☔️☔️

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We arrived on Friday afternoon 12th February having left the UK on Thursday afternoon. A long, long drive with an overnight stop in Tours.

Nothing to report on the extension. The weather appears to have put paid to any roofing work being done. The water table in the garden means that many of the plants are sat in water. The cherry tree has rotted and I just pushed it over. The two fig trees that I planted the year before last are ankle deep in water. Not sure if they’ll survive. The only plants that are thriving in the wet environment are the willow trees.

Saturday it rained most of the day but there was some light relief in the evening as we went with our neighbour to a Salsa class.👣👣👣.  Well actually it was just me feeling like I had 2 left feet and grandma the observer.  I’m sorry, I can cope with Metafit and Pilates but there was too much spinning around in Salsa for my liking. Yes I know, in the picture below I look like a complete lump of wood but this was taken just before I got my moves on👣👣👣 Surprised how many men were attending the class.

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Sunday, it rained again, get the theme, went to see our friend who lives near Monsegur. Then we decided to have a trip through to Bergerac to the cinema to see “45 Ans” starring Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtney.



It had been given rave reviews by the papers but we agreed it was probably  one of the dullest films we’d ever seen. Not only that, it was on the tiniest cinema screen we’d ever seen too.   There were only 17 seats. It wasn’t a problem, rather cosy really.  It took forever for the film to start, we thought they’d forgotten about us.  I had to get a photo, this is grandma with her three new French friends and the seventeen seats.

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I had to spend some time constructing a response to the Director of Finances, having received a letter regarding the completion of the extension, which should have been done at the beginning of last summer in the first instance but has been subject to numerous delays. Also popped in to the Mairies to let them know the situation too.  All seemed well with my letter, having shown it to the Maire’s assistant, who seemed to understand what I’d said.

On Monday (yesterday) we drove to IKEA in Bordeaux, we had planned to take the train but driving seemed so much easier.  Actually we found our way pretty well despite being left high and dry by Grandma’s Sat-Nav on the top of the bridge into Bordeaux.

Bridge into Bordeaux

I wish I could do more gardening🌳🌿🍀 but it would be more like taking a swim🏊🏽🏊🏽🏊🏽


We haven’t seen our builder and the extension is still very much a work in progress.


I had a paddle around the garden, tying up a couple of conifers that were lying horizontal and attempting to mend the gate which keeps falling off its hinges.  I also had another go at getting a viable cutting from the  fig tree that is now just outside our boundary.  When we first bought the house this fig tree was huge and had large branches that overhung our garden.  The fruit was to die for.  Since then it has been seriously cut back and I only just managed to reach a couple of branches and clip them off.

Up early tomorrow for the 9 hour drive back to Calais.  Wish us luck!

We’re both tired but had a good short break.

Until Easter😜😜😜