More clearing out

A week that began with some anxiety about the amount of stuff left to clear from Château Smith is gradually resolving itself.  Not wishing to count my chickens, the sale seems at last to be progressing, and the buyer is canvassing dates for the final deed of sale in late November.  One delaying factor has gone away: the town, having failed to produce its local land use plan by the deadline, has lost its right of pre-emption. 

Anyway, a moribund computer and some electronics in similar condition have gone to the déchetterie.  A couple of bags of books have gone to the local library, the bikes, some books and a heap of bed linen are in the car ready to take up to Annie's tomorrow, a disused electric hob and some loudspeakers left this morning with the estate agent, and Sheila has earmarked the keyboard, some bed linen and curtain material - and a can of yellow paint (we changed our minds).  The contents of the cellier are gradually finding their way to the bins (not too much at a time).  Next task is to wrap up the various paintings we're taking home, and then there's the small matter of cleaning out kitchen cupboards.  Thank goodness the buyer wants the furniture, crockery etc.

This afternoon we have taken stock of bedding and linen.  Why exactly we have seven king-size duvet covers is a mystery, and I think either the local asylum seekers' hostel or the Emmaüs in Narbonne may benefit.  Likewise, the vast supplies of single bedding are hard to account for, given that the folding single beds haven't been used in the past 15 years.  I'm inclined to carry out a similar exercise when we get home to see where we can gain some space.  

It was just warm enough for lunch on the Prom today.  Bertrand's plat du jour of pork fillet in a mustard sauce was excellent, and the rosé by the pichet was also pretty bearable.  Such things I shall miss, but not the taxe foncière, the taxe d'habitation, the water, electricity, insurance, telephone and broadband bills, not to mention the costs that attend ownership of a medieval pile.

Although the washing has dried outside on the line, temperatures are unimpressive.  Facebook reminds me that, this time last year, we were enjoying temperatures of 39.5° in Bilbao.  I suppose it's as well: clearing the house in hot temperatures would make an already tiring job nigh on impossible.