Two weeks to go before I'm at the house with mes amis!
After checking to make sure the weather/termites/biblical conflagrations haven't taken my home down to the foundation, this is the (Highly ambitious) plan of attack. I will provide great before and after pictures when I return, of course.
Wednesday night
1. overnight flight arriving in Barcelona at 8:45 am Thursday.
Thursday 17
1. Pick up car and hit the road by 10am.
2. 5 hours on the road, gathering supplies along the way.
3. unpack, run by the house to show it, take stock of what we need to buy and
discuss the order of work.
Friday 18
1. go to Mr. Bricolage. get gloves, etc.
2. pull back boards in attic.
3. take down ceiling tiles in 3f back room.
4. clean up 3f.
6. make runs to dechetterie.
Saturday 19
1. mason work on the crack on the 3rd floor.
2. disassemble 2f poele.
3. reassemble poele on 1f.
4. dechetterie.
Sunday 20
1. Fix attic flooring. Make it stable
2. fix attic hole.
3. dechetterie.
monday 21
1. Shut down house for winter.
4. take the last of the junk to the dechetterie
Tuesday 22
Check out and head for Barcelona.
Big celebration dinner in Barcelona!
It's the little things...
I love history. I love anything older than me, especially if it's exceptionally well-made. For me, there will never be a better design than the self-winding watch. Granted, quartz watches are far more accurate, but something about a watch that will simply work for a very long time and can be fixed by human hands when it doesn't is appealing to me. I love the old and well-crafted so much that I can't just have these things, I must know their history. This makes me quite useful at trivial pursuit and quite boring the rest of the time.
That's why I love the key to my house. It's a giant skeleton key. It's efficient, effective, very durable (more so than modern pin locks which suffer from spring compression and snapped key necks). Sure, it's not as safe as a modern lock, but for the purposes of rural France, it's safe enough. A heavy warded lock (warded because it has blocks or 'wards' that only the special cut of your key can slide past) is not very easy to pick and quite frankly, if someone wants into your house, they'll kick in the door or window. They'll do this no matter what key your door has. So why bother with a new lock? Especially when it denies you the satisfying sound and feel of tumbling a lock with a 4-inch long brass key. It's simply a cherry on the antique sundae that is your little maison.
The key, or en français, le Clé.
That's why I love the key to my house. It's a giant skeleton key. It's efficient, effective, very durable (more so than modern pin locks which suffer from spring compression and snapped key necks). Sure, it's not as safe as a modern lock, but for the purposes of rural France, it's safe enough. A heavy warded lock (warded because it has blocks or 'wards' that only the special cut of your key can slide past) is not very easy to pick and quite frankly, if someone wants into your house, they'll kick in the door or window. They'll do this no matter what key your door has. So why bother with a new lock? Especially when it denies you the satisfying sound and feel of tumbling a lock with a 4-inch long brass key. It's simply a cherry on the antique sundae that is your little maison.
The key, or en français, le Clé.
Victor of Aveyron
The region I bought in France is so rustic even the average Frenchman doesn't know where it is. The two things it's famous for are excellent knives and cheese matured in caves full of mold. But the crowning proof of how rustic the Aveyron is is the true story of Victor of Aveyron, a boy who lived completely alone in the wild until he was captured at the assumed age of 10.
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