September 2014 – Page 4 – derrickjknight

St Jacques

31.8.14

Yesterday evening I continued my Prime Suspect fest with ‘Error of Judgement’. I had seen this one before, nevertheless, despite knowing the outcome, it was well worth a repeat viewing. Steven Mackintosh and Helen Mirren made the perfect protagonists. Both are brilliant actors and eminently watchable. As usual, the supporting cast and the production were excellent.

The morning began in the same manner as the previous one. My task is almost complete.

I sat in the church of St Jacques, which I had photographed before, in happier Sigoules days, for a while, and conversed with God. This peaceful ancient place of worship alternates its services with other villages. Today it was the turn of Issegeac and Eymet.

St Jacques is the patron saint of the village.

Some time was later spent getting my head around transferring pictures from my camera to my laptop and managing to edit them and transfer them to the desktop for subsequent inclusion in posts. With Windows 8, I can assure you that this was no mean feat.

I dined on a well-filled Carrefour pizza, after which Prime Suspect ‘The Lost Witness’ and ‘The Last Act’ were my evening viewing.

The Scent Bottle

30.8.14
This morning, I continued the task of cleaning and tidying the house, and separating the intruders’ belongings from mine.
My friends in Le Code Bar where I went to post ‘On The Road’, were very supportive. Laurence, even though we had not met for a year, was most warm in hers.
This afternoon I finished reading Ivan Turgenev’s masterpiece, ‘On The Eve’. In the 1850s, when he worked on the novel, the world was about to change through Russia’s devastating war with the English and European alliance. This is a tragic love story, beautifully, sensitively, and insightfully written. The characters are well drawn, and the prose flows pleasingly. The last chapters in which the ill-fated couple Elena and Insarov spend an evening watching ‘La Traviata’ brilliantly ties up the story, for, like Verdi’s heroine, Insarov is dying of consumption.
My Folio Society edition is elegantly illustrated by Lauren Nassef.
The lowering sun cast a splendid light across the forecourt of Le Code Bar this evening, as I dined on magret of duck, chips, and salad, with sparkling Pellegrino to drink.
Before that, I had struggled to unblock the wash basin in the bathroom. This involved undoing the pipes underneath, draining off the water, and peering down the plughole which contained a perfectly fitting little round scent bottle. From beneath, I pushed it up and out with the handle of a wooden spoon.
The key to the letterbox on the wall outside has gone missing.

Boxes, Bags, And Beams

29.8.14
This morning, beginning with my bedroom, I began the task of reclaiming my rooms. I filled eleven black refuse bags with shoes and clothes from my room, labelled them, and transported them to the hallway, along with the television and its various attachments.
Karen Vick, from Leggett estate Agency, came to view the property and set in motion the process for its sale. She had been recommended by Garry and Brigitte, and is a local councillor.
The two large walk-in cupboards in the attic have been filled with the occupiers’ property. Right at the back I found some of my own belongings from the sitting room, including ornaments that had belonged to my grandparents. They had been thrown higgledy piggledy into a broken cardboard box. Stuffed into a stiff paper carrier bag that was dirty inside, were my two raincoats. My books, at least, had been stacked neatly on a set of shelves. A broken bedside table had been dumped into one of the cupboards. Miraculously, my grandparents’ rather fragile tourist purchases from one of their trips to St Malo were undamaged. The same could not be said for a much more robust lidded pot that stood on my bedroom mantelpiece. That, a present I had given my parents many years ago, had been smashed and tossed into a waste bin.
It is actually nowadays a physically painful operation for me to crawl about in a packed attic, attempting to avoid boxes, bags, and beams. I have a few scars from the heavy timbers which I sometimes nutted.
I can’t now remember where I found my underclothes and socks. Possibly with my shirts in a wardrobe in another room.
My toiletries, including electric toothbrush, razor, hairdryer, comb, etc., etc. are all missing.
I have written before about the summer Friday evening meals in the square. Today I dined there on succulent grilled duck and chips followed by, back at the house, cake Michael had bought yesterday. I met Nicole and Joel, who ran La Renaissance, the previous incarnation of Le Code Bar. This event was now their business.
Later, on full volume, in an only partially successful attempt to mask the music from the square, I watched Prime Suspects ‘The Lost Child’ and ‘Inner Circles’. Both superb productions, the first was particularly poignant as Superintendent Jane Tennison investigated the suspected abduction and murder of a small child, immediately after she had herself undergone an abortion.

The Departure

28.8.2014 (Part 2)
On arrival in Sigoules I immediately visited the police and alerted them to the fact that I was about to reclaim my house. Allowing a reasonable amount of time to avoid waking whoever was in the household too early, accompanied by Michael, I rang the bell. Having no response, I opened the door, which was unlocked, and confronted some of the occupants. I was adamant that they should leave today. Leaving them to pack up, we visited Garry and Brigitte next door. I spent the morning with my neighbours while Michael went off to make some work phone calls. Brigitte cooked a splendid lunch which consisted of a piquant tomato salad; sausages with fried potatoes, onions, and haricot beans which Garry had topped and tailed; and strawberries. We drank rose wine and water.
An emergency locksmith reinforced the security of the front door.
My unwelcome guests did actually leave at the appointed time.
I began the task of reclaiming my rooms by making my bed which contained cheesy snacks similar to Quavers, between the mattress and the headboard. The bedroom itself had been taken over. My clothes had been removed from wardrobes, and an array of shoes were lined up on the floor. An enormous television stood on my chest of drawers.
This evening, although I hadn’t slept for more than 24 hours, I was still not tired, so I settled down to watch Prime Suspect 3. I got the gist of it, but some of the detail escaped me because I kept dropping off into deep slumber. I went to bed at midnight and slept soundly for six hours.
All is not over yet, because much furniture, many clothes, bedding, and personal effects belonging to the squatters remains to be collected.