So those that wanted chapter and verse on the once-and-for-all packing up and closing down we had to undertake in the miserable month of November, well, they’ve (you’ve?) had that already. Her account is of course still available; I can do no better than refer you to Mme’s posts [le blog] on the subject.
I shall limit myself here to a broader but diffuse musing: because dear reader this thirty-eighth and final use of our home in Sablet was the least happy, shortest, most frantic, most disturbing: all this being so as a result of its finality. We returned to 1rueFB in November, just less than a month after leaving it in the previous month – and stayed just long enough to clear it out. It was an unhappy necessity which, even at this remove (a few days after getting back to chez nous UK) leaves me wondering if we really had to do it – did we – dispose of our second home?
We drove to Malaucène for indifferent chocolat-chaud and came back over the Suzette road to shed books in the former telephone box, and enjoy the late autumn light and mild air.
We also found the time to partake of our complete and regular Rasteau round, in lightweight clothing (a sunday morning ritual) ending with refreshment in the square, under the ‘Rasteau-blue’ skies – but oh-so quiet. And since we last sat therein, in October, three plane trees have been culled; trees older or as old as the WW1 war memorial they shaded. Apart from possible disease, which one clearly had, there was no indication as to why this had to be.
A whiz round to clear the edges, a new hatch cover and frame, a smattering of filler and tarmacadam and leaving a cone on it while it dries, they are gone by 10am. No payment sought, and head operative opines we should get our deposit back as no new chamber was required and the hiding of the extant feature was down to council road works. End of story (and six months of incredulity, worry and puzzlement: Suez owe us €540, the muppets).
But visiting the déchèterie was not our idea of getting out and about. We’d already made an appearance there with some good stuff in October, but knew at heart we’d have to go back. Ressourcerie also keep a presence there so we killed two oiseaux avec une pierre: stuff that had value, was resellable, etc to the latter, anything else or rejected was simply sorted and trashed. We managed at least one trip to this weird place without déchèterising anything, just resourcing instead. Just how is it that we accumulated so much stuff though, or brought it to Sablet from HQ? Most redolent perhaps, for me at least, was to hand over my bulky outdated but still functional binoculars, carried all the way to the foot of Everest and back in another life, so I could examine the highest mountains in the world in detail. And pictures, Mary’s baskets, personal stuff, even my Times World Atlas, Millenium Edition…
Prior to that, on only our third day of our seven day sojourn, I was compelled to witness the removal of The Great Table of Sablet. Into a van. The dealer, a seemingly pleasant chap, naturally tried to pay even less for it than originally agreed, but nevertheless paid up, as well as lifting all our arm chairs, dining chairs, living room mat, and the low living room table we’d brought out from Bullsmead way back . . . I hated that man (I’ve softened now, but for two pins I’d have told him to sling his hook at the time– he spoke enough English to understand that I thought him a rip-off merchant, but he was, you know, a dealer. Enough said). He left a void and cleared off with a vanload back to Puyméras that had originally cost us quite a lot and for which we got almost sweet fanny-adams. But we cleared it: so job done. Bye bye table. Been nice sitting at and eating off you. And polishing you aussi, the least I could do to acknowledge the craftsmanship of your build (m’God! I’m talking to a table now…).
Shelley took some stuff and bought a mat from us. Nick and Helen bought our good step ladder, our oil and gas mobile heaters etc. They softened the blow. But the folks I’d have liked to take the odd personal item were already gone, or not currently in residence. Sad.
The beds, the settee, the blue chest of drawers, the lighting, the curtains etc., etc., all stay as part of the house price. Our terrace pots complete with geraniums and the matching blue slatted patio table and folding chairs remain: a parting gift: no chance of getting them in the back of the family tumbril, so… I was amazed just what I did manage to shove in there. Even the French and UK Geologique jiggies found space. Even the telly FGS!
We’ve packed it, all that’s going, including life support. After the ressourcerie clearance, we zoom off for a restorative at Villedieu (and checking to see that my packing doesn’t shift in transit). We return, shut off the water and electricity, close shutters, lock up and leave. We’ve decided to slip off, late afternoon, to an hotel, only in Orange, but thirteen miles on our way. Lovely day too. We stop briefly to look back: see next post. Sombre mood. Some sniffling. There you go……
I shall limit myself here to a broader but diffuse musing: because dear reader this thirty-eighth and final use of our home in Sablet was the least happy, shortest, most frantic, most disturbing: all this being so as a result of its finality. We returned to 1rueFB in November, just less than a month after leaving it in the previous month – and stayed just long enough to clear it out. It was an unhappy necessity which, even at this remove (a few days after getting back to chez nous UK) leaves me wondering if we really had to do it – did we – dispose of our second home?
Our resolve was as follows: no van hire: too expensive to simply trail things back to the UK where we already had the majority of ‘stuff’ already. So what we could take back would be particular. And be fitable into the motor. We achieved this to some extent in the two journeys back associated with this unhappy time, when Octavia pitched in and carried all that we crammed within its capacious boot spaces. However, logistics required us to only pack after we were sure we no longer needed the vehicle to transport stuff to the déchèterie et ressourcerie facilities available to us as full card-carrying taxpayers of Vaucluse.
In the late autumn warmth we did at least manage a small handful of reliefs which punctuated the work of sorting stuff. Like, for example, a visit to Saint Cécile-les-Vignes saturday market, for victuals and atmosphere, followed by an al fesco lunch at Villedieu where we also dropped off books at the depository, and which had already been snaffled by the time we'd eaten and were returning to the motor – we checked. Other books were deposited at Buisson including my mammoth Oxford Companion to Wine which joined other tomes of size and antiquity in the reading area under the shelters of the square.
In the late autumn warmth we did at least manage a small handful of reliefs which punctuated the work of sorting stuff. Like, for example, a visit to Saint Cécile-les-Vignes saturday market, for victuals and atmosphere, followed by an al fesco lunch at Villedieu where we also dropped off books at the depository, and which had already been snaffled by the time we'd eaten and were returning to the motor – we checked. Other books were deposited at Buisson including my mammoth Oxford Companion to Wine which joined other tomes of size and antiquity in the reading area under the shelters of the square.
We drove to Malaucène for indifferent chocolat-chaud and came back over the Suzette road to shed books in the former telephone box, and enjoy the late autumn light and mild air.
We took advantage of an excellent Menu du Jour at L'As de Coeur, under the freshly pruned white mulberrries, and kept schtum about our residential departure from Sabbers… we'll be back, after all, but reduced to being but passing tourists. The shame of it…
And the saga of the drains inspection chamber installation had to play out just 48 hours before we were expecting to ship. Mustn’t forget that little nonsense!
Suez contractors arrive: two lorries, one trailering a tracked excavator. Road is closed. They know as well as we do that there has to be an inspection chamber somewhere for 1rueFB but are contracted to put in a new one, another one, in the absence of the one that is no longer apparent. These coves are not as deficient as the original job's-worth drains chappie however. They point to where they think our inspection chamber should be, unship the excavator and drill at that point. And there it is: obscured by a patch of tarmac and concrete and now revealed. Who knew? We did.
But visiting the déchèterie was not our idea of getting out and about. We’d already made an appearance there with some good stuff in October, but knew at heart we’d have to go back. Ressourcerie also keep a presence there so we killed two oiseaux avec une pierre: stuff that had value, was resellable, etc to the latter, anything else or rejected was simply sorted and trashed. We managed at least one trip to this weird place without déchèterising anything, just resourcing instead. Just how is it that we accumulated so much stuff though, or brought it to Sablet from HQ? Most redolent perhaps, for me at least, was to hand over my bulky outdated but still functional binoculars, carried all the way to the foot of Everest and back in another life, so I could examine the highest mountains in the world in detail. And pictures, Mary’s baskets, personal stuff, even my Times World Atlas, Millenium Edition…
Enough already, I am reaching dew-point!
Ressourcerie also runs to house clearances: we had to book it for a thursday. On our last day, prior to setting course back to Blightey they eventually turned up (a mere three hours late albeit including their lunch break). Within twenty minutes we saw our remaining chairs, stools, tables, storage units, mats and rugs disappear into the ressourcerie van . . . leaving us standing in what was now as near as dammit, an empty and depersonalised 1rueFB.
Shelley took some stuff and bought a mat from us. Nick and Helen bought our good step ladder, our oil and gas mobile heaters etc. They softened the blow. But the folks I’d have liked to take the odd personal item were already gone, or not currently in residence. Sad.
The beds, the settee, the blue chest of drawers, the lighting, the curtains etc., etc., all stay as part of the house price. Our terrace pots complete with geraniums and the matching blue slatted patio table and folding chairs remain: a parting gift: no chance of getting them in the back of the family tumbril, so… I was amazed just what I did manage to shove in there. Even the French and UK Geologique jiggies found space. Even the telly FGS!
We’ve packed it, all that’s going, including life support. After the ressourcerie clearance, we zoom off for a restorative at Villedieu (and checking to see that my packing doesn’t shift in transit). We return, shut off the water and electricity, close shutters, lock up and leave. We’ve decided to slip off, late afternoon, to an hotel, only in Orange, but thirteen miles on our way. Lovely day too. We stop briefly to look back: see next post. Sombre mood. Some sniffling. There you go……
