I guess it was a bit sanguine to assume the ducks had got their ducklings' survival worked out. It looks rather as if our visit of mother +3 the other day bore witness to the fact that another four or so had gone the way of so many flightless chicks in a cat-infested neighbourhood. Yesterday Doris was accompanied by two chicks only; this morning she was on her own when she arrived, shouting for her breakfast. Evidence inconclusive, but.....
Modest good news is that the car is fixed. The tailgate latch is still a bit reluctant to operate, but I'll deal with that when I have to. The work is quite good: the paint is a good, if not perfect match, but the car looks a whole lot better not only for having the dents bashed out but also from the absence of badges, save for the VW roundel. This last mentioned is chrome on a textured black plastic disc, and they'd left rather a lot of polish in the crevices. Look out for reports reading 'Local Man Cleans Car with Nailbrush'. Well, I am after all just back from the Helvetic Confederation, where, one day at the car wash some years ago, I watched a fellow remove his number plates and wash and polish behind them.
From other points south, less good news. The Mairie seems intent to put as many obstacles as it can in the way of my stopping my house crumbling on to my neighbours'. I had a letter yesterday in more or less impenetrable bureaucratese telling me my application for permission to do repairs lacked at least six essential elements, including photographs of the surroundings. I shall try to restrain myself from sending back a rhetorical portfolio of photographs of properties that have beem mutilated beyond belief or left to fall down. All this despite an assurance from the town clerk that, if anything was missing from my application, Valérie would call me in the morning. Three weeks ago. Not sure yet, but I think my relationship with the village may be coming to a close. Maybe the capital gains tax on a sale is its motivation.
No comments:
Post a Comment