Travaux-ci, travaux-là

Poppies, Martyn and Norman Foster's masterpiece

Not a bad drive home: fine weather all the way, and generally moderate traffic.  We had ample time for each leg, so stopped for air and exercise at the Viaduc de Millau, and again at the Viaduc de Garabit, Mr Eiffel's slender construction over the Truyère not far from his successor company's later tour de force (left).   We stayed a night in a familiar flophouse in the outskirts of Bourges, but the room was stuffy, the hotel having not yet programmed the air conditioning to be available.  We were thus forced to open the window, which overlooked the main road from town to motorway, with consequent damage to sleep quality.  Memo to self: if we use the place again (for it is not bad value and pretty well fitted out) we'll specify a room overlooking the pool or the car park.

Rather than circumnavigate Paris, we opted to go into the centre on the right bank from the Pont de Sèvres, turning in at the Place de la Concorde and heading up the Champs Elysées, round the Etoile and off down to the Marché des Sablons in Neuilly, a Sunday morning haunt from my early days in Paris.  It was largely unchanged: bantering stallholders, fabulous meat, cheese, fish, fruit and vegetables - and even the same hoover bag man as back in 1991.  And the car park was as full of expensive cars as ever.  I think there are more Rolls-Royces in Neuilly than in the whole of the United Kingdom.

Re-laid terrace and rebuilt steps

Just as we'd arrived at Château Smith to find the works almost finished and well carried out, similarly we got back to Forges-l'Evêque to find the landscaping almost done, with only half a day's work remaining following consultation.  I'd asked for a new step to be put in for getting from the terrace to the grass beside the clothes line, and on excavating, the chaps found a manhole cover buried under the turf!  Presuming that it had been buried since the house was built in 1980, we opted to leave it exposed, and to plonk one of the herb sinks on top of it.  (Shame really, since it was just where I wanted a hard surface from which to hang the washing.  I suppose we could get it built up at a later stage, but it is scarcely a thing of beauty.)  On lifting the cover, we found a stoppered white plastic pipe rising eighteen inches from a concrete surface: any ideas what it might be?  Overall, we are very happy with the work.  The terrace is now well anchored down and ought to be weed-resistant.  We now have a raised bed for herbs and a few veggies just opposite the kitchen door, and a new quadrant of paving at the top of the garden where we like to sit with a glass of chilled rosé in dappled shade on warm days. 

Top terrace

Less good news is that the lawn mower fired up yesterday and promptly died: I have been unable to start it since, so it'll have to go back to the fettlers for a severe talking-to.  Given that the grass hadn't been cut for over two wettish weeks, I had to resort to the old electric mower, which, given the length of the grass, took four times as long as usual - not welcome news on a hot sunny day.  I have to admit that it looks better than the usual result with the motor mower, but that may be because the grass is growing vigorously.  With the flattening out of some of the sharper curves in the lawn edges, it looks better and cuts more easily.

So, memo to nephews and charities: we are getting the good of the savings while we can enjoy them!