It’s far from luxurious but the place is definitely starting
to feel like home. Take the attic. When we first climbed the steep stairs up to
the top floor, one room was propped up with steel girders. Why? Because the
walls were so dodgy they had to be pinned together. Literally.
The stunned notaire
accompanying us kept muttering “tout à faire” as we stomped up and down. Another attic room was filled with a
lifetime of rubbish, including a spooky-looking trunk covered in cobwebs. We never discovered what was
inside - but at least it had gone by the time I signed on the dotted line.
Fast forward a few years and even though there’s so much work to do, the attic is now an
oasis of calm. Well, by day at least. It’s slightly more raucous by night because
the dormouse has crept back into the roof and scrabbles about like crazy in the
early hours of the morning.
But to give an idea of the attic’s transformation, here’s
what my daughter's room was like before…
I reckon even Kirsty and Phil from Location, Location, Location would be impressed!
PS. “Why aren’t you at the Olympics?” asked the puzzled man
at the garage as we filled up the car near Avignon. He blithely assumed that
everyone from the UK is in London to watch the Games. But like countless
others, I’ve spent hours online attempting to buy tickets and ended up with
absolutely none.
PPS. If you're keen to get into the Olympic spirit, my novella, Olympic Flames, is set at London 2012. It follows a talented young showjumper desperate to win her first gold medal in front of her home crowd.
