No spam thank you

Ste Juliette


Do excuse me for not blogging today. I am trying to sort out both computers which have been going far too slow for far too long.

It's a very nice 31 degrees outside but in here it is a lovelier cool, so it's the ideal afternoon to set to and sort out anti-virus software and spam blockers.

If I'm not back tomorrow you will know that it has all gone horribly wrong!

Cat burglars

St Samson

It was a lovely day yesterday, we had a pre-lunch swim and a sit in the shade watching the numerous butterflies and swearing at the flies (a particularly nasty little thing around at the moment, looks like a nic lacy winged thing but is very persistent and ticklish when it lands on you). I wandered back indoors to throw some bread and cheese on to a couple of plates for lunch.

I entered through the cave door and into the kitchen and was surprised to find a packet of Whiskas kitten food in the middle of the kitchen floor.

'That's funny' I thought.

Then I noticed the Tupperware box of home made ginger biscuits was also on the floor.

'Very odd'

Then it dawned on me. The kitchen windows were wide open and the fly screen was up in its roller blind. We had been cat burgled.

It was pretty obvious when I saw the kitten (now fondly (?) named Big Balls for obvious reasons) looking at me from the sofa. He was almost smiling and looked very comfortable and content.

Figgy and Misty's food bowls were empty and someone had evidently taken a liking to Whiskas Temptations with chicken and cheese as the pot was half empty.

BB suddenly realised that maybe I wasn't as happy to see him as he was to be snuggled on the kitchen sofa and he made a break for it upstairs to the lounge where he decided to roll around the floor looking cute.

It didn't work and I chased him out.

There was no sign at all of his mother who is now known as Scruffy.

I called in the reinforcements and Jon eventually found her looking quite bewildered up in the attic as if she had just been beamed there from outer space.

'I have no idea how I got here', she seemed to say. 'Could you please show me the way out and I'll leave you in peace'.

She, too, was quickly shown the door.

These two 'little dears' seem to be with us almost all the time now but we are still resisting adopting them properly. A serving or two of biscuits a day has done them the world of good and they look much healthier, but we still refuse to let them in the house, hence the break-in. Still, they sit on the kitchen doorstep for hours a day hoping for us to relent (especially since BB found the cosy sofa). I wonder who will crack first.

I found BB this morning curled up in an old kitchen cauldron that we intend to paint up and use as a planter one day.
I've heard of eye of toad and wing of bat, but a whole cat?

Silent Sunday

Ste Nathalie

Photo taken with great patience by our sister-in-law Shirley Smith



Copyright Shirley Smith, July 2008

Rain wanted

Ste Anne

Happy Saint's Day, little Sister
Happy Birthday, Elaine in Oz


You won'e be surprised to hear me moaning about Mr Meteo again. He usually does get it wrong, but this time he's been frustrating us no end. He did it last weekend and he's done it again this weekend.

I check every day to see what the weather is going to do and if he says it is going to rain then for some strange reason, I tend to believe him. We were due rain on Thursday, then thunderstorms last night and rain all day today.

We had a mild sprinkling which, if I were on holiday I wouldn't have minded at all, but not the steady rain he promised me.

This means that I will need to go out and give the veggie plot a really good soaking tonight because I didn't do it last night on the understanding that we were to have thunderstorms, but not a rumble or grumble was heard - except from the courgettes and beans who really would have liked a good downpour!

Meanwhile, sheltering from the non-existant rain, I have spent the afternoon alternately between the loft, the garden and the kitchen table where I have finally ordered the floor for the loft, and started drawing up the numerous plans that need to be attached to the dreaded form 'application to be exempt from having to put in a planning application'.

Yes, OK, I know I said that we absolutely HAD to do this last month (or was it the month before?) but if you saw the 7 page form and its list of supporting evidence required all in a language that is not your first, then you'd be a bit daunted too. Anyway, at the last count they are requesting 9 separate pieces of supporting evidence by way of drawings (to scale, of course) and photographs and all for three small loft windows.

The 'simplified' form is different from last years in that it is also used if I should want to put in a request not to have planning permission for a campsite, leisure complex or boating lake.

On second thoughts, if I'm filling in the form already and we do have room for a campsite and/or boating lake .......?

Hey, Baby, I'm your telephone man

(Meri Wilson 1977)

Ste Christine

My battles with France Telecom continue. We opened a new contract with them after various troubles with another company and we were promised that there would be no problems.

Of course, we didn't believe this for one minute.

Our contract is supposed to include unlimited calls to the UK (not mobiles) and to other European countries near to France.

The invoices from FT confirm this and then under that is a list of calls we have made and the cost of them - which is added to the invoice. No, they are not calls to mobiles in the UK.

So, having heard that they are quite good, and being totally fed up with spending all my time arguing with people over the phone in French, I thought I would try out the France Telecom English Speaking Helpline.

First of all you get a message saying that your call will be monitored. Fair enough, it might even help out later if they do record the call.

Then you get a lady saying 'Welcome to France Telecom English Speaking Helpline. Please wait, your request is being dealt with. For all technical questions please dail 3900'

'OK' you think 'my call isn't a technical one so I'll just hold on'

It's a bit like a Chinese water torture. She keeps repeating herself over and over again. The longest time I have had to hold on to speak to someone was 23 minutes 42 seconds. I lost count of the number of times she repeated herself and by the time I got through to a human being (a man called Ange - that's with a soft 'g' not like Angie in EastEnders) I was so numb I almost forgot why I had called.

I explained the problem

'You are invoicing me for calls that I shouldn't be invoiced for'

'No, the option is not set up on your account'

'Yes it is, I am being invoiced 7 euros per month for the option, I can see it on the invoice'

'Hold on, I'll have to look at your contract.'

Usually at this point I am cut off and have to go through the whole rigmarole again. Sometimes I am lucky.

'Hello? Yes, the option is set up on your account. What was your question?'

'I'm still being invoiced for calls to the UK'.

'Are they to UK mobiles?'

'No'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, but there is one call to a UK mobile and that is all'

'Hold on. I'll just look at your invoice'

If I haven't already been cut off before, it might happen now. Last time I was really lucky.

'Hello? Yes, I can see that you have been invoiced for calls that you should not be invoiced for. I'll have to write them a letter.'

Luckily he means an e-mail (or emu as my friend's mother calls them).

Finally he says he has written a letter and all will be OK next time.

Then I get the next invoice and it isn't OK next time. I have to go through the water torture, the brain numbness and the questioning all over again.

But, at least I have a telephone and the internet. A dear friend of ours is having trouble even getting connected and has to use the local library for the internet and another line for the phone. She is at her wits end. 'The lady at France Telecom tells me to reste tranquille and I hate her' she says.

I know just how she feels.

Pics & wood

Ste Brigitte

More and more wood is being added to our pile. Jon has cut down some overhanging branches that were, frankly, encroaching far too close to the pool and blocking the sunlight. How rude!

We have been wandering around looking for more culprits and have identified a good dozen or so that will have to come down during the winter. Lovely, lovely logs for future years!

Here are a few photographs from our wanderings in Rocamadour at the weekend.

Spare tyres and woodpiles

St Victor

Happy Saint's Day!

Busy, busy days recently with a spate of visitors. So, do please accept my apologies (Jim) for not blogging so much recently.

We have been blessed with good weather again and had a good weekend with friends from the UK staying. They seemed just as happy by the pool with a good book as they were pottering out to a couple of local shops, and on Sunday to Souillac where we sat in the sun and enjoyed three jazz bands playing in the streets. We were surprised that the town wasn't busier yesterday but we soon found the crowd of people outside the cathedral gathering for, who knows what.

Jon and Rob, our guest, spent Sunday afternoon and this morning moving huge piles of logs which had become buried in the hedgerow. We are delighted that we seem to have at least a winters' worth of wood now but it still needs to be moved from the middle of the field to nearer the house and we don't think the Mehari will be able to manage it all. A log splitter is on the shopping list but before we buy we have a friend coming in a couple of weeks from nearby with his own log splitter to give us a hand with the first batch. We can then test his machine and see if it will be suitable for us.

The catering department (me and him in turns) has been very busy for the last week with various dinner guests as well as our 'stayers' and I'm pleased that we can resort to light salads and snacks from my freezer stock for a couple of weeks - it may help us lose the extra pounds I'm sure we've gained from the more elaborate meals I like to feed to visitors, especially those who haven't been before or don't come here very often. It's one of the pleasures of life, feeding guests and sitting around relaxing with slow, many small-coursed meals and enjoying conversation and catching up on a year's news.

But it does nothing for the waistline!

Stairs and door

Ste Charlotte

Here are the promised photos - late!

There is far too much socialising going on here this week. But it's great fun!

Whistling Jack Smith, remember him?

St Donald

Happy Birthday, Mum xxxxxxxxxxx

As I am writing this there are strange sounds coming from upstairs. Clonking, banging, drills and screwdrivers and the odd jolly whistle.

My Dad was well known for his whistle. I remember him coming home from work once on his birthday with a 'saucy' birthday card and a present from his colleagues. It was a packet of budgie seed. I never did know for sure whether he was highly amused by this, or slightly miffed. I remember thinking that he must have been deeply upset to be teased, but then I was at a sensitive age when I hated being teased. I don't think I ever grew out of it actually.

Anyway, I only mentioned that story because it is St Donald's day.

The noises from upstairs are from the two rather good looking and very polite (before you start Lizzie - in the words of Lilo Lil in 'Bread' I am NOT a tart!) young men who are fitting our new front door and the staircase. They looked at the hole in the ceiling and asked if their boss had been and seen this.

Of course I answered that he had and had taken all the measurements.

A little later, of course after Jon had gone shopping, I was asked if I happened to have about my person a rafter, about 7 - 8 cm thick, 60cm long and approximately 22 cm wide.

I had to check very carefully of course that I didn't happen to have one in my handbag, or better still, my pocket, but of course didn't find one. I couldn't call Jon and ask him to pick one up in the DIY store as he hadn't taken the mobile phone with him on this occasion, but the polite young man said not to worry and he would just make a 2 hour round trip to go and buy one.

Nice young man.

He's just got back with it and now it is all systems go on the staircase, the front door is already installed.

Do come back tomorrow for the photos.

Weather and wildlife update

St Benôit

It has been odd weather recently. We had a hot couple of weeks (during which I had a spell in a cooler UK), then two days of rain.

On Tuesday we were enjoying lunch in a friend's garden as the weather improved once again. Wednesday was warmer. Yesterday we were sweltering and the pool was very well used, it was lovely in the shade. Last night we had supper with friends some way south of here where we were enjoying the sunset but still sweltering.

We had coffee by their pool watching a very distant lightning show but the storm was obviously a long way south and moved on eastwards. The friends' dogs and cats were enjoying the garden wildlife; frogs were hopping along the side of the swimming pool, a stag beetle went for a swim and was hastily fished out in a net and left to dry off, and bats were whizzing through under their abri. We'd never come across bats getting quite so close to people before but as soon as we noticed one heading our way it was gone again and we lost sight of it.

On the way home, as I was distracted by more lightning, one of our friends noticed a barn owl sitting by the side of the road, we must have passed within feet of it and I was so sorry to have missed seeing it.

Today has been different once again. We had lunch with family who are staying in a nearby gite. The temperature has been fluctuating one minute to the next by up to 10 degrees and the sun has been fighting to come out and sadly lost the battle most of the time. We were hounded by flies all through lunch which was a real nuisance. We don't seem to have a problem down here but up on the hill at the gite there are hundreds of the blighters who, throughout lunch, were intent on eating not only our delicious trout, but also the tomatoes, cucumber and even the lettuce - they must be starving!

Eventually with the aid of a flyswat or two we managed to see most of them off and enjoyed our coffee in relative peace.

It does surprise us how we can travel just a few kilometres in any direction and find completely different flora. Up at the gite there are wild yellow brooms, wild thyme and orchids are still flowering. Down here we never see wild broom, only gorse and our orchids are long gone.

A couple of weeks ago we were plagued with nasty green-faced horseflies which give a very nasty bite. They would come swimming with us dive-bombing us all the time and at night would dive in on their own and eventually drown in the pool. They have all disappeared now but the waterboatmen who were around in April and hadn't been seen for a couple of months are back again, skimming over the top of the pool.

Trevor and Tina Toad haven't been seen for a month or so but we hope they have just moved on and have a new home.

Those who haven't moved on are the two little cats from next door but since I have been leaving biscuits out for them on a regular basis, they are looking much better and aren't hanging around the kitchen door quite so persistently as they were.

Organisation

St Thibaud

I'm a great list maker. I have to be, it's the only way I find I can organise myself.

Back in my previous life I had lists of jobs to be completed by the end of each day, week, month or sometime, never. My stock phrase was, and still is 'It's on the list'.

These days the chore list is as long as both of mine and Jon's arms put together. The other day Jon tackled item #152: getting logs in from the edge of the field.

Now the hay has been cut it was a little easier for him and he decided on a slightly cooler day than we'd had of late to go and unearth a stack of logs we'd found hiding in the hedgerow. He came back 15 minutes later dripping blood from his arm all over the kitchen floor.

Yes, getting wood in is as easy as falling off a log. Literally.

Anyway, having unearthed them he took Millie Mehari down there to collect them and drove them up through the field closer to home.

Job # 387: Move logs into garden and stack them.

Another thing that is my lifeline is my little notebook where I keep track of meals we have shared with friends. As our circle of friends is fairly small, I need to keep track of recipes I have tried so that I don't give people the same menu twice! I can also make notes on whether dishes have worked or not, and if someone doesn't like, say, pineapple for instance, then that gets noted too.

It makes me sound awfully well organised doesn't it? Well, I'm not.

The trouble is that I have three little notebooks on the go besides my 'foodie' book. These three all contain bits and pieces of useful information - the telephone number for the English-speaking helpline of France telecom for when my French doesn't feel quite good enough for an argument - the make and model of various fridges we looked at some months ago which I now need again as the fridge is suffering from teminal rattle and over-frosting - website addresses that have been recommended.

Now, if only I could find each of these things when I really need them, I would be well organised but only one of these three little books appears at any one time and I can never find the one I really want.

Just which one did I chose to write the time of daughter's flights next month????

What's that wet stuff?

Ste Mariette

We were woken in the night by a noise that sounded as if the new chimney cover was falling through the roof.

It's one of the problems of having the loft access open (still waiting for news on the delivery of the stairs) and the loft not yet insulated, everything sounds much louder. I was, in fact, thunder. This morning I am up early because the rain is hammering down on the roof.

We haven't seen rain for nearly three weeks now, not in any amount so I am up to keep an eye on what happens through the garden. Any new water features making themselves known? Will the veggie plot survive without my finding eighteen tomato plants, three cucumber plants, three melon plants and various beans, chillies, peppers and courgettes washed away into the field and beyond never to be seen again?

We should have expected rain today since we are expecting family down here for a fortnight. Murphy's law, Sod's law or whoever's law dictates that just when you have been lulled into a false sense of security and think that summer will last forever, the weather will let you down and you'll be looking for wet weather activities for everyone for the next six weeks.

Well let's just hope that it doesn't last. Mr Meteo seems to think it will be dry by this evening and no sign of rain for at least the next three days. Not that I ever believe him about anything any more.

On a brighter note, being up early this morning had its bonus. For the first time in weeks there was a deer having his breakfast in the field. We had wondered where they had all gone but this first sighting for a while is very welcome.

Happy Holidays

St Florant

It doesn't seem possible that a whole week ago I was over in Brownland enjoying cuddles with Jack, Leo and Riley (just for the record and the uninitiated in particular, these are my three young grandsons - I am not a hussy!)

I had hoped that I would be able to get around a bit and see some more family but my son-in-law was quoted silly money to add me to his car insurance and we decided that it would be easier all round if I stayed local until I came home again.

The weekend passed all too quickly and I really don't believe that I have been home for nearly a week already.

Tomorrow will be a busy day. Not for us personally as we will be battening down the hatches and staying firmly put. No, it is the first Saturday in July and the mass exodus from Paris and all places north will begin. In fact, as I am writing this at 5.30pm on Friday evening I can imagine households all over Paris being shuttered and emptied as 'les juillets' (those who take their holidays in July) pile into their cars and head for the south and west coasts of France.

French people rarely travel out of France for their summer holidays and why would they need to? There is plenty to see and do in this big (compared to the UK) country and the weather can generally be relied upon to bring enough sunshine and warmth to keep a family in a tent very happy for four weeks.

Unfortunately they do not seem to understand the concept of staggered journies, so every road out of Paris throughout the night and early tomorrow morning will be jammed with cursing French drivers and screaming kids. The motorway service areas will be full to bursting at the allotted eating hours and there will be queues at every péage.

Campsites will suddenly be cramped and noisy, supermarkets will put up their prices overnight (sceptic, moi?) and festivals, fireworks and frivolity will be the order of the day.

Then at the end of the month the whole thing will happen again in reverse as they all return back to Paris, but this time, it will be double trouble as 'Les aoûts' leave for their own holidays.

We are looking forward to our own little flurry of visitors over the next two months too and are thinking of all those not too 'touristy' places to recommend to them.

Bonnes vacances, tous le monde!

10 years on

St Thomas

It was 10 years ago today that we finalised the purchase of this place.

We had taken an overnight crossing from Portsmouth to Le Havre (can't do that now) and we drove down on a very hot day to arrive at the estate agent's in time to get to the notaire before they closed for the weekend.

We had been unable to get a firm answer to our questions as to what furniture may be left in the property we had just bought. There may have been some or none. When we had last seen the house it was full of very old, heavy, dark French furniture. We remembered several large dressers (it was probably only one), at least three double beds in the two bedrooms, a kitchen full of tables, cupboards and an empty Grandfather clock (the house had been broken into and the workings of the clock stolen), and lots of knick-knacks including many crucifixes on the walls.

And so we had packed into our car everything we thought we could get by on if the house was completely empty. This included an inflatable double bed which we had used for camping - the camp cooker and the entire contents of a kitchen as we were pretty sure there would be nothing there - we had been buying plates and cutlery from charity shops and had gathered old bedding, cushions and a million other bits and pieces from home and from our families.

We were surprised on arrival at the estate agency to be told that 'our' agent was out with other clients and we had to go straight to the bank. We weren't told why and my French wasn't quite as good in those days as it is now (sometimes). However, we went across the road to the bank where we were told to wait until our advisor was available. As we were waiting 'our' agent, Madame A arrived and was able to explain all in English. We had to sign our insurance documents for the building and contents before we could sign the papers for the house purchase.

We went in to the advisor's office and passed a very cheerful half hour talking about this and that before the business was concluded. I had been carefully checking my watch as I knew we were expected at the notaire's office but obviously Madame A had sorted all the timings out in advance..... Perhaps.

She drove round the corner to the notaire's office with us following in our own car. There we met Monsieur M, the vendor and his grand-daughter, a perky little 7 year old girl. I wasn't quite sure why she was in on the purchase meeting, but then the French do things differently as we have discovered over the years.

The five of us squeezed into Maitre L's office, granddaughter perching on Monsieur M's lap. The notaire, a lady, then read the entire house deeds to us in French, pausing occasionally to throw in the odd word in English in case we needed it. 'Blah-di-blah-di-blah-di-blah. Ze 'ouse. Blah-di-blah-di-blah-di-blah zat ees your land'.

I did, actually understand most of what she was reading - well, the words, that is but not necessarily the exact meaning of all the jargon.

When we had signed everything necessary and paid over yet another huge cheque to the estate agent the meeting was concluded and everyone went outside for a chat. Notaire, Monsieur M and Madame A discussed Maitre L's forthcoming holiday - to begin in about 5 minutes time, how things had changed in each of the villages, what was going on in Gourdon over the summer....... Finally Monsieur M felt in his pockets and pulled out a huge bunch of keys which he handed over to Jon with great pride. He must have been so relieved to be shot of this house of his mother's which had, apparently, been on the market for 5 years.

We then returned in convoy in our three cars to the estate agency where we were soon joined by Madame M - she had been in the hairdressers all this time treating herself to a new look. Monsieur M was dismayed when the agent said that she would not be coming back to our house with us but was abandoning us to Monsieur M entirely.

We were surprised that he wanted to come back with us, this is not what one is used to in the UK. However, he obviously wanted to show us how to unlock the doors and how things worked. On the way down to our new home he stopped off at his own house and emerged triumphant with a set of curtain rings for the shower curtain explaining that they had just washed it that morning but forgot to return the rings with the curtain.

We finally pulled up at our 'home' four hours after arriving at the estate agent's office. Our heads were pounding and we were desperate for a cup of tea or at least a glass of water but Monsieur M insisted on showing us around. 'This is how the door unlocks, it can stick sometimes', 'Here is a bed that we have left you and there is some bedlinen in this cupboard for you to use this weekend until the shops open on Monday'.

Upstairs, they had only left us a bed.

And the shower curtain!

Downstairs we were led into the kitchen where we were pleased to see a table and chairs and two cookers (yes two). We were advised not to use the electric one as electricity is very, very expensive, Madame.

With an imagined fanfare of trumpets Monsieur M then threw open the kitchen cupboard doors and proudly indicated the contents of the cupboard - just about anything anyone could ever need in a kitchen and a few other things besides. Plates, bowls, several coffee makers, espresso cups and all manner of pots and pans were crammed inside and we didn't dare mention the contents of the back of our car.

Outside we were shown that the garage had not yet been emptied but Monsieur M had arranged for the Red Cross to come and collect it all on Monday, he hoped this wouldn't disturb us too much. Not at all. If we wanted to keep anything we saw in the garage then all we need do is put it to one side and he would prevent the Red Cross from taking it away.

Finally he pointed out to us that he had arranged for someone to cut the grass that morning and was pleased to see that the garden looked reasonably tidy and he went on his way.

At last, five hours now from arriving, we were alone in our 'place in France'. It was three months since we had first and last seen it, and we were relieved to find that it was just as we had imagined all those months.

We really can't believe that all this was 10 years ago, even though we have only been living here for 17 months full time. Occasionally we wander round and remember what the walls were like, what ghastly wallpaper was on the stairs and the sitting room walls, how the place smelled damp after being empty for so long and how long the grass was.

Now it feels like a home. Well, OK sometimes a building site but even so, a home.

I wonder what it will look like 10 years from now. Very different I suspect.

Where was I?

St Martinien

I just had to read my own blog to see where I had got to!

So..... I went to England for a few days to see the new baby grandson. Jon stayed behind, since he had been to England recently for about 24 hours and we didn't want to put the cats in the cattery again. They take a while to settle back down and had only just relocated the mouse supply so it seemed unfair to upset them once more.

I'm not particularly confident when travelling alone since I had my bag and all identity stolen on a trip to Paris some years ago. I am continually checking my passport, tickets, money, bank cards, driving licence, clean knickers. Then five minutes later I check it all again.

I got in the car, checking for the five hundredth time that day: passport, boarding card, English money, Euros, driving licence, clean knickers. Eventually I was happy and headed off to Bergerac Airport.

How lucky are we that the route to this tiny airfield is traffic free, back lane through woods, over hills with wonderful views, back into lanes lined with walls of cut logs and so on. I was thoroughly enjoying my drive and then my mobile phone rang.

I pulled over and hunted for the phone, which I found eventually and picked up. I saw that it was a call from me to me - which meant that Jon was calling me from the French mobile to the English mobile phone.

'Oh God' I cried, 'What have I forgotten or what haven't I done?'

I couldn't think of anything myself but there must be some dreadful reason for him calling me when I was half way to Bergerac.

'No, no problem, just to let you know that the fire fitters have returned'.

The two guys were back, unannounced having told us that they may not be back for another two weeks after their van broke down and blocked our lane. They had a hire van and were eager to finish the job, bees or no bees.

Fortunately, it was no bees.

'What if they want paying?' said Jon.

We agreed that they could take a cheque with them and I would transfer the money from one account to the other over the internet before they even got back to the office.

I set off again for Bergerac. I only took one wrong turn, having elected to try a new route and get to the airfield from a tiny track which I could see existed from the map.

At the airport I queued to drive into the car park. The barrier was broken so a very nice man came and let us all go in without taking a ticket - which is all very well until we returned and tried to get out again without a ticket. I decided to worry about that bit later on.

The departure lounge, which is only slightly bigger than our sitting room, was packed and the plane was delayed. I wanted some water but the drinks machine was fresh out and only offered nasty sugary drinks so I went without until I got on the plane.

Having never travelled with the Irish line before, and having had not so pleasant experiences with Sleazyjet, I wasn't looking forward to the flight. However I was pleasantly surprised, I had a seat by the emergency exit which gave me a little more leg room and the flight wasn't full. The flight time was shorter than Toulouse to Gatwick and we arrived only slightly later than we should have, the crew making up good time during the flight.

I then took the train from Stansted to London - the train was almost empty and I was almost lulled into a sense that everything was going to go really well.

Until we got to Euston station on the Victoria Line. Everyone in London seemed to have decided to work late that night and all got on the underground at the same time.

At Victoria, they all decided to get off again, as did I and we shuffled our way to the mainline station, where we all waited shoulder to shoulder for news of a platform for the next train to Dorking via Sutton.

Southern Rail let us down here as they only had two carriages available on a six carriage train, and the entire working population of London clambered in.

It was the most uncomfortable journey I have ever had in a train. I remembered exactly why I hated commuting to London all those (30?) years ago and decided to only work locally to where we lived.

Luckily I was met at Sutton by a very nice lady who took me home with her and immediately planted a very refreshing G&T in my hand. She then fed me and looked after me until the next morning when she deposited me with my daughter and her lovely sons for a couple of days.

Thanks Mum.

Oh, by the way, yes, the wood burner is fitted and the bill was posted to us.

More tomorrow.