I was awakened quite early by thoughts that there really was a lot still to do and only two full days remaining. The thoughts wouldn’t let me lie in so I got up and started to pack the van with another load of stuff that was to be thrown. The recycling place was only open until 12 so I had to move fast. I decided that almost all the stuff that hadn’t been sold yet might as well be thrown, so out went the working tumble dryer, the working computer printer & scanner, the working toaster, and the perfectly functional knackered old chest of drawers that Vickie used to have in her room in Burgess Hill. Out went the paintpots and tins and tools that are surplus to any requirement at the moment. Out went assorted metal nonsense, . …and boots and lampshades, and toasters and hammocks – yes hammocks! How lucky am I to have acquired a plural of hammocks in my life.
The man at the dump again seemed cheerful and happy to help me. I was so glad he didn’t choose a misguided life at the Tresorerie, or at a bank. As I left we shook hands and I felt sorry that I would never be able to dump on him again.
I spent the rest of the morning scavenging for things that might be valuable commodities in my future life. I didn’t have room in the van for the bike so I took what I could from it, which turned out to be everything except the frame and the chain. The new owners might like to make some sort of sculpture out of these and Le old van. Well that’s what I would do given the talent. Hell I might even do it without the talent.
John came shortly before lunch. He wasn’t sure why he had come because he is suffering from Alzheimers a bit, but I reminded him he came in order to look at something or other. After some short banter we remembered what it was – the chairs. I have got two traditional old antique genuine Windsor-style chairs that match his existing one exactly. I said he could have them. I also wanted to tempt him in to look at the fridge-freezer. It’s one of the few items that remain unsold – or unthrown at any rate. He struggled up the stairs to take a look at what was left of the house and we measured the fridge-freezer together and it was deemed to be too something. Early I think he said. He didn’t need the fridge-freezer this early. Fair enough, I could bring it round later on, ha ha.
But I could see some sort of interest in his eye. It could have been due to the connection we made the previous evening, or it could have been the pain in his back, but he asked how much I wanted for it. I said I didn’t want anything for it. It would be a gift if it was something that he really needed in his life right now. ‘Well in that case you must tell me what is the going rate for the chairs and the frigo and I will pay you that”.
‘Well normally it would be one hundred thousand euros’, I begun (then waited until the translation device had kicked-in and he would start laughing). ‘But because I hardly know you and I need to offload this stuff, shall we call it 25 euros? ‘
‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he said. ‘I’ll give you a 100 euros’.
I shrugged my shoulders – I was learning fast. Bah! Okay.
After a generous omlette for lunch (I was using up the eggs), the Mexicana furniture couple arrived to pick up their stuff. What a lovely couple they were, although a bit of an age gap between them. He clearly punching well over his weight and doing everything he could to please her.
I helped load the furniture into their van, and said they could have the wardrobe and the single bed if they wanted – because I knew they had a Gîte to fill – and I knew I had a house to empty. They took them but offered no money (she was still Scottish at this point). Then she looked around the garden and spotted some cartwheels I had inherited with the house. ‘Are those for sale?’ she asked.
Actually you are very fortunate. They just came onto the market today.
‘How much do you want for them?’
One hundred thousand euros. But as you’ve taken the wardrobe free of charge I would be prepared to let you have this piece of French equestrian history for just 50 euros. Fittingly, two Pony’s worth of euros we shook on. And considering that the cartwheels were just lying around the place with no future prospects, I considered it a deal worth shaking.
At this level of entrepreneuralship I might be able to living in france. Oh bugger too late.
After they left I was determined to pack the van. I wanted to put as much as everything in as possible so that I could see if I could sneak some non essentials in. I spent the rest of the day making sure that every square inch of the van was packed.
Soon after a delicious sunset, I took out a ready-meal from the place where the freezer used to be and popped it in the oven. The fact that the meal wasn’t already ready made me think that I had been conned a little. And it wasn’t as delicious as light.
I had a bath. It was as luxurious as the moment dictated, Unfortunately I had already packed the bubble bath but I had left a two-thirds full bottle of shampoo (that which I had used to clean the van). So the shampoo/car shampoo became bubble bath and slightly slippery bath I had. But it was hot and bubby and steamy and it was happy to let me add more hot water from time to time. And I had candles and a glass of wine and a book to read and so it was very like luxury in the middle of all this rustic. My long, last, luxurious bath made me positively glow afterwards. I felt like a new van.
