family photographs, were still piled up in all directions. In truth, I was leaving David in the midst of a terrible mess and with the routine of his daily life in total disarray. I should have felt a little guilty, but I didnât. I had discovered the most exhilarating sense of freedom when I headed off for France last time, and this time was no different.
10
When I first arrive in Frayssinet-le-Gelat, Ethan and Lynne are in the process of packing up to return to Australia, although they still have one week to go, which means we can socialise together and give them a rousing farewell. They have become a popular young couple in the community and the locals have really taken them to heart. Lynne looks quite beautiful even though she is still feeling quite fragile; she has colour in her cheeks and that glorious glow that accompanies a happy pregnancy. Ethan seems to have grown up a lot, which is natural given the independence gained by travelling and working in a foreign country, not to mention impending fatherhood. He is not at all concerned about the actual birth, having been around during all Miriamâs labours, with the exception of little Gusâs. However, both he and Lynne have had to make a huge adjustment in not only accepting but embracing the idea of having a child while they are still in their early twenties. By the time I get to France they are filled with excitement and anticipation and itâs good to see them so positive and happy.
They have done a lot of work on the house, painting the upstairs bedroom a crisp, clean white and cleaning out the attic room and finishing the walls with a thick, white render. They have also nested, making the house cosy and comfortable despite the lack of smart furniture and flash kitchen appliances. It looks well loved and well lived in, which is a vast difference from when we first bought it last December.
Our house is situated smack bang against the main road, with a narrow footpath, barely 45 centimetres wide, separating the front shutters from the rumbling wheels of passing trucks. Originally, the road would have been a relatively narrow dirt track, but progress has meant that all the winding country roads have been widened to accommodate the large trucks that hurtle through every day except Sunday, when there is a moratorium on heavy vehicle traffic. I suspect this national regulation is as much to do with preserving the age-old custom of the large family lunch on Sunday, for the sake of the truck drivers and their families, as much as for the ensuing peace on the road. Knowing that wine is often liberally consumed at these lengthy Sunday repasts, having no trucks on the road is also probably a sensible safety precaution.
The house is tall and narrow, with shutters on all three levels. It is no more than nine metres wide and it shares a wall with a more substantial house on the corner block. The remaining three walls are at least a metre thick, having been built using the traditional method of local stone with a mud slurry mortar. Late in the nineteenth century the front and side of the house were covered in crepi, a dull grey concrete-like render that became fashionable when the villagers tired of the sight of stone. The crepi was considered a neat and sophisticated finish, although thesedays it is deplored by new home owners who go to great lengths to chip away the render and reveal the gorgeous warm stonework that lies beneath.
Although the arched doorways that face the street still open, the main access is through a shuttered timber door on the side of the building. The large arched doors at the front are there because the house functioned as a shop over many generations, initially selling wooden agricultural baskets (trugs) that were made in the barn; in a later incarnation it was a hairdressing salon. There is evidence that the main downstairs room was once divided into two areas â the front portion being the shop and the back the living area for the
10
When I first arrive in Frayssinet-le-Gelat, Ethan and Lynne are in the process of packing up to return to Australia, although they still have one week to go, which means we can socialise together and give them a rousing farewell. They have become a popular young couple in the community and the locals have really taken them to heart. Lynne looks quite beautiful even though she is still feeling quite fragile; she has colour in her cheeks and that glorious glow that accompanies a happy pregnancy. Ethan seems to have grown up a lot, which is natural given the independence gained by travelling and working in a foreign country, not to mention impending fatherhood. He is not at all concerned about the actual birth, having been around during all Miriamâs labours, with the exception of little Gusâs. However, both he and Lynne have had to make a huge adjustment in not only accepting but embracing the idea of having a child while they are still in their early twenties. By the time I get to France they are filled with excitement and anticipation and itâs good to see them so positive and happy.
They have done a lot of work on the house, painting the upstairs bedroom a crisp, clean white and cleaning out the attic room and finishing the walls with a thick, white render. They have also nested, making the house cosy and comfortable despite the lack of smart furniture and flash kitchen appliances. It looks well loved and well lived in, which is a vast difference from when we first bought it last December.
Our house is situated smack bang against the main road, with a narrow footpath, barely 45 centimetres wide, separating the front shutters from the rumbling wheels of passing trucks. Originally, the road would have been a relatively narrow dirt track, but progress has meant that all the winding country roads have been widened to accommodate the large trucks that hurtle through every day except Sunday, when there is a moratorium on heavy vehicle traffic. I suspect this national regulation is as much to do with preserving the age-old custom of the large family lunch on Sunday, for the sake of the truck drivers and their families, as much as for the ensuing peace on the road. Knowing that wine is often liberally consumed at these lengthy Sunday repasts, having no trucks on the road is also probably a sensible safety precaution.
The house is tall and narrow, with shutters on all three levels. It is no more than nine metres wide and it shares a wall with a more substantial house on the corner block. The remaining three walls are at least a metre thick, having been built using the traditional method of local stone with a mud slurry mortar. Late in the nineteenth century the front and side of the house were covered in crepi, a dull grey concrete-like render that became fashionable when the villagers tired of the sight of stone. The crepi was considered a neat and sophisticated finish, although thesedays it is deplored by new home owners who go to great lengths to chip away the render and reveal the gorgeous warm stonework that lies beneath.
Although the arched doorways that face the street still open, the main access is through a shuttered timber door on the side of the building. The large arched doors at the front are there because the house functioned as a shop over many generations, initially selling wooden agricultural baskets (trugs) that were made in the barn; in a later incarnation it was a hairdressing salon. There is evidence that the main downstairs room was once divided into two areas â the front portion being the shop and the back the living area for the
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