Our paving material was due to be delivered after 9.30 a.m. this morning so that Martin could be on site to take delivery and direct the driver to the Back Drive which is where we wanted it.
Fortunately, having arisen at 6.55, I was sitting in my dressing gown carrying out my normal WordPress responses when the front doorbell alerted me at 7.45 that a Dorset Stone truck was occupying one side of Christchurch Road, on the assumption that the material was to fill our front drive.
The friendly and helpful driver warned me that I need to be careful, because the ground was very slippery, as I stepped out to check the width of his vehicle. I thanked him and responded that he had no idea just how careful I needed to be. Needless to say he had not been informed of the expected delivery time.
Having directed him to where he should unload, I grabbed a coat and slid through the garden to assist if necessary.
I was mightily impressed with the skill of the man who reversed his long, wide, truck along the Back Drive, with only an inch or two either side.; and relieved that the vehicle was well equipped to unload the heavy slabs electronically. The larch branch extended over the path was the only casualty when hit by the overhead crane.
Martin’s first task then, was to remove and cut up the broken arboreal limb.
He then continued his preparation of the patio levels. He, unfortunately, will, later in the week, need to ferry the stone across the garden by wheelbarrow.
This evening Jackie produced flavoursome vegetable rice to accompany Tesco’s finest chicken Kiev (Yellow ticket) with which I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2021.
Today we completed the weeding of the rose garden, and Jackie cleared out the potting shed, to which she adapted a set of shelves to fit.
This afternoon, I scanned a batch of colour slides from a French holiday in September and October 1981. We shared a house in Cabrieres, Languedoc with Jessica’s friend, Sue Sproston. The house belonged to a colleague of Sue’s who was in the process of renovating it, but hadn’t been too bothered about fixing potential leaks in the roof. Trust us to experience the worst thunderstorm locals could remember.
Here, Jessica and Sam see me off on a trip for the obligatory croissants from the boulangerie.
I found the local gardens fascinating. Some were carefully tended;
others seemed to be spaces to park trucks or trikes.
Cacti were in abundance. It seemed to me that, if the barbed wire had been designed to deter inquisitive fingers, it was probably somewhat superfluous.
Here Sue joins Jessica and Sam in investigating the local lake.
It was clearly the time of the vendanges, or the grape harvest.
We drove around the area and visited a number of villages, like the beautifully kept St Guilhem, and the almost abandoned Villeneuvette, where Sam sloshed in the fountain, a little less elaborate than the one in the grapes picture.
Wikipedia, currently has this to say about Colbert’s social and economic experiment:
Villeneuvette is a small village made up of a group of buildings initially erected in the 17th century to create a royal clothmaking factory and provide accommodation for its workers. Apart from a hotel and restaurant, the buildings are now restricted to residential use, many for holiday purposes.
Creation of Villeneuvette was promoted in 1677 by Jean-Baptiste Colbert the noted finance minister of King Louis XIV. It was one of his many initiatives to develop France’s industrial base. Power for the factory was hydraulic with water supplied via different water courses from existing basins. The factory was privately owned and produced cloth for the king including uniforms for his armies. The factory was in existence until 1955.
Since 1995 the village has been classified as a “Zone de Protection du Patrimoine et du Paysage” recognising the originality and importance of its heritage.
The original inscription above the gateway was “MANUFACTURE ROYALE” but was later rather crudely changed by the Republic to “HONNEUR AU TRAVAIL” – Honour in work.’
When we stumbled across the commune most dwellings were unoccupied, except for a few people who, to us, appeared to be squatters. We were able to amble around and marvel at the higgledy-piggledy nature of the accommodation, often with one family’s upper rooms above those of the residents below.
In 1982, J.K.J. Thomson published ‘Clermont-de-Lodeve 1633-1789’. Since it contains an erudite history of Villeneuvette, I had to buy it. It was, in fact, far too academic for my taste, but I did struggle through it. Interestingly, the book jacket shows the changed inscription mentioned above.
I was, perhaps fifteen years later, rather pleased I had, when one of my consutatiion clients told me that a couple of her friends had bought one of the residences which were now being sold on the open market. I was able to describe what we had seen, and to hand over the book. I didn’t expect to see it again, but, it was eventually returned to me by the wife, who happened to be a committee member of another agency client. Even then, before we were all overtaken by the Web, it was a small world.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi, savoury rice stuffed with goodies, and vegetable samosas; followed by apple strudel. We both drank Kingfisher.
