In the twilight

Ste Hélène
Yesterday's weather: Bit grey, bit sunny, bit warm. No rain.

Yesterday evening around 6.30 I was furious. Depsite the promises of the other day we still had not received the chalet. Then the phone rang.

'Bonjour, Madame' The voice at the other end of the phone gave me the name of a delivery company. 'Oh, here it is.' I thought. 'Excuses and delays again. How many more weeks?' 'I'm in Brive' he explained 'and I have a chalet to deliver to you. Should be there about 9.30 is that OK?'

I thought he must mean 9.30am tomorrow but no, he wanted to deliver at 9.30 last night. Well, it was going to interrupt the curry meal we had been preparing for two days and would disrupt the first evening of our friend's visit, but there was no way I was going to let the delivery slip. Who knows where they might take it and how long it would take to get it back, so we agreed 9.30. His final question was 'Is Madame certain that a large lorry would be able to get close to the house? Oui, Madame is quite sure (again).

We had just finished our poppadums at 8.15 and were thinking of going on to the main course when we heard a large lorry coming up the driveway. It had no trouble turning around and parked next to the gateway. Out hopped two short weedy men and one tall weedy man, two with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, one had a severe limp. 'I'm wounded', he explained as he shook hands with us all. The other two shook hands too. Now, I'll pause for a minute here. When did the Tesco delivery man ever shake hands with every member of the household when he came to unload the toilet rolls, tins of baked beans and cat litter? Not in my recollection. Nor the electricity meter reader, nor the skip delivery man. Everyone shakes hands here. We weren't too happy about it when it was the chaps who emptied the septic tank but here, c'est normale. Garage mechanics are among the few (butchers included) who don't offer the whole hand. You have to shake their wrist as they don't want to contaminate you with oil or blood and guts. This is a very polite society where you do not address people by their first names unless invited to do so. Everyone shakes hands and children will always address you as Monsieur and Madame and will kiss you on both cheeks when they leave. Swanne even gives Figgy two petit bisous when he has been to visit.

So, back to the lorry. How to unload two sheds, one terrace, a water butt and a shower unit from a lorry. Well, it's simple. No tail gate, no fork lift. You pass out the water butt, followed by the three component parts of the shower cubicle, then you unwrap the rest and pass it down from the lorry slat by slat. Easy peasy. The weedy chaps from the lorry were remarkably fit despite the fact that they looked as though a sharp gust of wind would blow them over. In no time, the chalet and terrace were sitting in the garden in pieces. There was just one shed left. They shifted the lorry and opened another door. There was some dispute about how to remove this shed from the lorry. 'I'll unwrap it again' said the driver. 'That's stupid' said the smallest man (the one with the limp) as he relit his cigarette and he moved two pieces of wood from the pallet and placed them on the ground. Two of them got under the complete packaging of the shed and Jon and our friend rushed to help them (they would certainly have been squashed because their shoulders didn't even come up as high as the floor of the lorry). The last chap jumped out and one shed, complete in its wrapping, was hauled onto their shoulders and placed on the ground. We checked the paperwork, signed for the delivery and after much more hand shaking they clambered back into the lorry.

They wished us bon weekend laughing that their work was over but just look how much we have to do now!

Oh help! Now the fun will start!