Westward ho! St-Lizier and Bastide-de-Serou

Whee! Look at me! I'm just hangin' out in the sunshine.






The weather was forecast to be hot and sunny today, so we loaded up the car with gadgetry and set off for St-Lizier, which is in theory about 45 minutes drive away. We were following a route that we have travelled before, heading towards St Girons. About half way there the satnav told us to go right left right in very quick succession, which is not easy on a relatively straight road. We never found the road that Michelin advised that they road traveller take either.
The road into St Girons is so twisty and stupid that I don’t know why people bother. We had probably gone wrong again, but we eventually found ourselves at a busy junction and took a right turn and found St-Lizier with little trouble. Parking was a bit of a problem. We continued to climb the road into the town, following the P signs. There is a smallish car park, but most of the land up there is being remodelled into a bigger car park at a cost of 440,000 euros. This is where the entrance to the main attraction of the town is, the citadel. Unfortunately it would seem that it has been closed to the public since Sept 2006. Strange that I did not find a mention of that before we set off.
St-Lizier has been designated as one of the most beautiful villages in France.
It is easy to see why. There are many half-timbered houses, quaint narrow, cobbled streets, the Pyrenees mountains, some of them snow-capped, can be seen across the valley.

We popped into the tourist information centre for a few leaflets, then went into the church. This proved to be rather gloomy, but there were interesting ceiling tiles and a very unconvincing trompe l’oeil window to admire, as well as the usual statuary.
A hot air balloon could be seen through the trees, in the direction of the mountains. There were several interesting stone carvings or gargoyles. One little chap still has his willy intact. This would not happen in the UK, where many women like to "take a chip off the old bloke"

The Villa Belisama looked like a nice B&B to stay at. It has a panoramic pool, but we were not able to see it.
















There were many interesting bits and pieces to photograph and I shall stick a few onto this flickr link for you to see.

After about 2 hours of wandering, we headed back home, but stopped for a look round another, smaller town, which we hear mention of quite a lot. Bastide-de-Serou.
Now this was a disappointing place. Much of the property is in a dilapidated state, there are no shops to speak of except a Doreur (Gilder) which had it’s shutters down so I don’t know if it is still in business, and there was a saddle and harness makers showroom.
The church, with its strange, thin bell tower, was gloomy and dark. There was a covered market place which still had the remains of three stone vessels, formerly used to measure quantities of grain.
















The link to the Serou photos is as above.














No sign of Leonard Cohen, but Michelle might have enjoyed it all the same.

Foix castle and night manoeuvres

A beautiful day today, so the washing got done and hung out to dry. Then it was off to Leclerc for the weekly shop, and to pick up some of the wine bargains which we spotted in yesterday’s “pub” literature. More specifically the wine boxes, which have plummeted in price. J P Chenet, which comes in wonky top bottles is one of my favourites, so I bought 3 x 3 litre boxes of red for a total of about £16 or about £1.20 per 75cl bottle. (I think it is usually £4 - £5 per bottle in the UK.) The syrah and the cabernet boxes. They had the white and the rose too, but I’m not greedy.
As it was such a nice day, we had some lunch and then set off for a visit to the medieval castle which dominates the town.
We found ourselves walking into rather a cold wind, but we persevered. It was that or I would be going to my French “lesson”, so it was a toughy.
We climbed up the hill to the castle entrance, paid our entrance fee and then ascended the winding cobble road up to the castle itself.
There are 3 towers. The round one is probably the best, and there are largish rooms in which to stop and draw breath on the way up the spiral, stone steps.




The grey, metal object is a hoist that they use to bring building materials and other heavy objects up to the castle from the bottom of the castle hill.
More of todays photos can be found by clicking right here

At one time in the more recent past than the 13th century I think it was used as a prison.
From the top there are good views of the town and in the distance the Midi Pyrenees mountains glistened with snow in the distance.
The middle tower can also be climbed and has rooms that can be visited on the way up. One appeared to be badged as Henry IV’s bed. I bought a guide book on the way out of the castle but I haven’t read it yet. It had an exhibition about the Cathars and their relation with surrounding towns and villages.
It is a narrower tower and there is no view from the top as the walls are too high to see over.
The third tower houses the bell tower and was not accessible to the public.
This is the bell that we can hear from my house. Unfortunately this is the one we would need to climb to stand a chance of seeing my house.
The wind had died down and the temperatures in the sun must have been well into 60s Fahrenheit, which can’t be bad for February ( unless of course you live somewhere like Australia.
We pottered about town for a bit, and then headed home. As we approached there was one of Bee boy’s friends cars in the parking. There he and Madame were, standing in front of our locked main door.
The young man was carrying a section of honeycomb in its frame. He wanted to leave it for Bee boy to see. I let him in and he came up the stairs and leaned it next to Bee’s door, wedging a note under it.
Before I entered the building however, Madame asked if I had activated the outside light ready for the evening. I told her that I hadn’t yet, but would be doing so very shortly.
I don’t know much about bees, but the slice of hive looks in a pretty bad state. I hope that Bee boy does'nt open a hospital for sick bees during the summer.
In my mind's eye, I can see a queue of people waiting patiently clutching their lidded jam jars, containing sick bees, already forming....




















Dusk fell and S and I spent about 20 minutes trying to get the new security light positioned so that it would pick up human traffic, rather than light aircraft or someone standing directly below it.
We managed to get the motion sensor to pick S up before the second flight of stone steps, but it was a brief triumph which we never managed to duplicate.
Now it sometimes activates the light when you reach the 3rd and final set of steps. As Mr Royale from the TV sitcom might say “30 metres my arse!”

Let there be lights!

Party night was very quiet. Madame reports that she had about 12 guests and they were all very quiet because they were working hard, either making or listening to a broadcast about Palestine.
My carefully parking was a waste of time as only one of her friends parked in my car park.
Yesterday at Mr. Bricolage we bought two double ceiling mounted spot lights and some long life spotlights. 30 percent off the sign said, but we seemed to pay full price. When I queried it, the lady on the till said that it was taken off automatically. Either way, the price on the label was what we paid.
While I was out perfecting my French yesterday afternoon, Madame had dropped the solar powered, motion activated outside light in to S, who was studying in the flat.
As it was a bright morning, I got my tools out and switched off the power and flicked off the appropriate fuse.
Much swearing and about an hour later, I have both sets of lights wired up and screwed on to ceiling beams. When the power is switched back on all the lights work. In the living room they go off again almost immediately. I just cannot understand what has gone wrong. Fortunately before I start dismantling the unit, I discover that my assistant has turned off the lights at the wall switch.
Next job is the outside light. This will require the drilling of 5 holes so the drill and extension cable are required, as is the folding step ladder.
The inside lights were fitted using S as my “hand-me-that” assistant. It is a matter of seconds before Madame materialises and starts giving advice over where the unit should be placed.
The main light unit goes up on the door lintel without much problem, although S soon gets bumped off the “hand me the screws” etc position by Madame.
In fact at one point it is not even me on the ladder, but Madame, who wants to make sure the unit is switched to the off position for 24 hours as she has now read the instructions.
There is also a separate small solar energy panel to install. This is to get attached to the main light via a thin wire.
Madame tells me that this must be placed as far to the right of the light as possible. This is okay because that is where I was going to put it anyway.
The positioning of the ladder is trickier as there as the ground is not level, but we get there eventually. The solar panel was balancing on the folded window shutters of the window, above which the unit will be placed.
Of course I forget this and move the shutters causing the unit to plummet earthwards. Fortunately it is still wired up to the installed light unit and it does not crash onto the concrete. Hopefully the wire will not have been damaged…..
I had been going to use staples to hold the wire against the wall, but Madame thinks that if I disconnect it from the main unit I should be able to thread it behind the drainpipe, using its bracket as a support.
I dutifully disconnect and reconnect as instructed. Another millimetre of separation and this would not have worked.
Job done, I announced that it was lunchtime and we tidied up all the equipment.
I would have just left the unit on the on position, but perhaps a grand switching on tomorrow evening will be better.
Madame knows where all the controls are now, so perhaps she will spend many a happy evening hour adjusting the angle of light, sensitivity of the motion sensor and the length of time it stays lit per activation.
I can see her whizzing up and down the ladder, approaching the house at varying speeds, or crawling slowly to see if she can reach her front door before the movement sensor can activate. Happy days!!

Madame’s damp patch

I foolishly went under the stairs again today. There is woodworm damage to other areas in the lower set of stairs and more little piles of sawdust. “Thank you so much!” as Basil Fawlty might say.
I did a bit more gardening this morning in the picking up twigs and weeds department. While I was just about to call it a day, Madame came down the steps clutching some Publicity dating from December. This contained details of some wall radiators as I had discussed with her yesterday. She also had the latest small catalogue from a firm which brings it’s stock in a big van to a location just outside the town, where you can go to pick up items that you have pre-ordered from the catalogue, or shop on site. Tomorrow is one of those exciting days. Madame says she has bought lots of items from them in the past. In the UK it would equate to stock held by Kleeneeze or Betterware or Scotts of Stow. Cleaning products and household / garden / car gadgets that might be useful, but when you get them they don’t quite work as well as expected or which turn out to be very much smaller in size than you expected.
I have now commissioned her to pick me up a solar powered, motion sensor activated outside spotlight to illuminate the concrete steps up to the house. She assures me that it will be powerful enough and not feeble like her existing solar lights. At approx 44 euros I hope she is right.
At about 6.30pm my doorbell goes and I go downstairs to the front door. There is a flood in the ceiling of her bathroom she says. Having gone up her twisty stairs I am disoriented so she will wait until I get up to my flat and bang on the ceiling so that I know where the problem is.
Banging duly takes place and I look at the sink unit in the bedroom and pull out the washing machine. The floor is dry. I check the bathroom next door and that is dry too.
I go back downstairs, and upstairs into Madame’s bathroom again. Steps are found so that I can feel her ceiling. It is bone dry. We decide that it must be condensation because as we know none of the ventilation fans except for the ones in my flat, work. It is one of the problems that my workmen were supposed to be investigating and resolving, but they have not been back since about November last year. I hope my evening will be Madame-free.
What excitement will there be when she has her party tomorrow night?

Rude Stairs

The bottom two steps of the main staircase in the house have been a bit on the loose side, and two of the boards on the first turning / landing is worryingly bouncy. As I do not really get on with DIY I have been avoiding tackling the problems. Bee-boy has been absent for quite a few days so it was with reluctance that I dragged the lawn mower and some other items out of the cupboard under the stairs so that I could squeeze through the gap at the back and into the understairs world. Using a broom handle, I knocked aside the years of cobwebs and armed with torch and camera I entered the unknown.

left: brick bits and wood left to (not)support the bottom step by the brilliant builders

Right: munched support and small pile of sawdust poo.

The findings were not encouraging, with one of the wooden side supports for the second step having been lunch for some wood munchers. The walls are not conducive to knocking in a few bits of wood as supports.
We met Madame as we were leaving he building and I have found out that her Tuesday celebration is not for some national event, but is a get together for some of her former work colleagues from her hospital auxiliary days, before a back injury invalided her out of the service.
I asked her if she had contacted her friend/cousin about dismantling the rickety outbuilding at the bottom of the garden, which seems likely to fall onto the cars parked in my parking area anytime from yesterday to a few years time. She reminded me that she reminded me that the downstairs of her duplex apartment is single glazed and said that her friend would be able to give me quotes for replacement double glazed units (these are the equivalent of two patio door units) as well as a quote to replace the glazing in the downstairs studio. He also would be able to replace the bottom stairs with bricks or recommend a carpenter or any other tradesmen that I might need.
My apartment is the only one where the ventilation works. Madame says that the English builder bodgers that the last owners employed and who buggered up the electrics etc were supposed to come and fix the ventilation as part of their contract, but they never did. She says that the lawyer should be able to chase this work up (assuming as S suggests they are still in business).

It is now 11pm on Sunday and Madam's building contact did not appear for a chat.

Are there any decent chippies in France? (a food pun there just to show that I haven't lost my sense of humour)

Going to Halle and the importance of putting commas in the right place

Just before we set off for a walk into town this morning, my mobile phone played its merry tune. I answered and it was the man from the underground river phoning to let me know that he had received my CV etc but that the post has already been filled. So no underground gondolier work for me. The discerning females and no doubt males will not get the chance to marvel at my loin cloth, bulging, baby-oiled muscles in my role as chief punter and guide, lit only by flickering light reflecting off the water.

Very nice weather today, but cold out of the direct sun. The market and the town were much busier than usual, due no doubt to the school holidays. The traffic even more clogged than usual.

Our only purchase was some fresh pasta. A mixture of spinach and 3 cheeses tortellini. 300gms for 6 euros 50. At that price it’s a good job that he threw in one or two extra bits.
Many of you will be dying to know how the Halle aux Grains restoration work is progressing. Some of you may remember that I spoke about it last year. The steel work has been cleaned, soldered, re-painted and the slate roof is on.
Two weeks ago the wooden roof planks began to appear.

One week ago the slates began to be deployed.

Today the majority of the slates are on and some fancy painting has appeared on the steel work.

I suspect that it may even be ready for use by the 2 nearby cafes, whose business must have nosedived since the space and the road between them and the Halle was fenced off. The food market traders will start to use it again on Friday mornings once it re-opens in a month or so.

We returned home and I cut the remaining shoots/branches from the tree in front of Madame’s patio. Then we dragged out a couple of garden chairs and sat in the sunshine reading.
Madame appeared later and let me know that next Tuesday evening she is having some kind of celebration and that there will be lots of strange cars in the parking area.

A bit of a long punt

We have been suffering from some kind of virus for a couple of days now, but S seems to be over it and I am getting there.
Yesterday we went on another fruitless trip to leClerc to see if the copies of the keys (which still didn’t work) could be refined. Unfortunately the young lady decided that nothing could be done, and she gave me my money back.
I think that the real key-cutter / boot mender is on holiday, as she said that if I really wanted the key copied I could come back the next day, when the bootmaker would be there.
Next stop was the Renault garage to see about the onboard warning message “vidange a prevoir” (oil change) keeps coming up on the dash board screen.
It is also due its free 2,000 km service.
First stop the main garage office. Redirected to the mechanics office. A works order is printed off, That will be 165 euros. It is supposed to be free, I say.
More discussion and they decide that when the car was serviced prior to sale to me, someone forgot to enter the fact that the oil had been changed then, into the computer.
Redirected again to a garage behind, to find Richard to book my free service.
We stand around like lemons by the paint shop office waiting for Richard to appear. Eventually one of the mechanics uses their mobile to locate him.
I explain our presence and a service is booked for next Tuesday morning. What could go wrong?
As it was a nice day, I took a detour to find the location of the Rivière Souterraine de Labouiche which claims to be the longest navigable underground river in Europe. Discovered in 1909 and open to the public in 1938. Guides take groups of visitors in boats along 1,500 meters of it to admire the stalagmites, chalk formations etc Prehistoric and Gallo-Roman remains have been found there. Okay, I knew it was closed until later in the year, but there was a job advertised for there in last week’s free paper. I might be well suited to paddle the boats loaded with passengers as I am sure that people have muttered admiringly in the past about me being a complete punt.

We inadvertently took the long route, but had marvellous views of the snowy mountains en route.
It was my Instep meeting today, so my advisor drafted a letter of interest and faxed that and my CV off.
I don’t hold out much hope, but it will be interesting to see if anything happens. The job lasts 8 months.
However the mobilisation towards employment is not about getting a job, it is about finding out what job you would like to do, as my advisor reminded me….