Son-in-law is quite at home in the village now. Having never spoken any French before, he can confidently order a large beer or a coffee in the bar. My daughter who DOES have a smattering of French and a believable accent has more trouble making herself understood, though the attempts are amusing. I had taught her “chocolat chaud” and she still managed to end up with an apple juice, how?
There seems to be some kind of mental Chinese whispers going on when she processes what I have just told her to say and what actually comes out of her mouth when she orders anything. We sent her to the bar for “un pichet d’eau” ( a jug of water) but according to Olivier & the locals who were laughing at the crazy English girl, it came over as “un pichet d’oeufs” ( a jug of eggs)
Greg decides that the time has come to get proactive and, as he has had enough of sitting on the camping chairs or competing for the single footstool we managed to get upstairs, he announces that we WILL get the corner sofas upstairs this year if it kills him (and it nearly does).
Said sofas have been living in the garage because they are too big to go up the twisty stairs to the sitting room. I knew that they would, however, fit through the kitchen window.
He & Trev set up a sturdy ladder from the street up to the window ledge and Kirsten & I were stationed at the top to guide them through as the boys shoved them up from below.
Great in theory, terrifying in practice. Trev was not very fit back then, having become a bit of a couch potato (all that relaxing , remember!) and Greg had a heart attack in his early thirties so Kirsten was convinced that one or both of them was going to keel over any minute. I was a bit worried about them, but even more concerned about my lovely sofas! We got the smaller sofa up relatively easily, but the bigger, heavier one was proving a problem, well wedged half way up the ladder and too heavy for the boys to move it further.
I looked down at the two red faced, panting hoisters and at my daughter who was almost in tears with terror.”Take it back down” I said “ We can’t, it’s stuck” they muttered…………
As if by divine intervention, a car came down the street, we were of course blocking Rue de la Plage, and the ( not very young) driver took instant action, leaping out and giving generously of his additional shove factor as the sofa reached the window ledge , he then instructed K & I to hang on to it as he ran up the stairs himself and guided it inside. Clearly, by the way he managed this event, this was something he undertook on a regular basis.
Sofas inside, Kirsten & I noticed the shop was about to shut for it’s daily four hour lunch break so we threatened the boys not to move the sofa into place,under pain of death, till we got back with lunch and liquid refreshment.