I have just been looking at an article on how to make your blog interesting – and it said………………………………………. Make it interesting! Well, that was helpful.

I spent Christmas in Ireland – first a couple of days in Dublin, and then down to Cork. The highlight of my trip was feeding pigeons in Stephen’s Green (a park) in Dublin. A man was sitting on a bench surrounded by pigeons, and he was feeding them porridge oats; my son and I stopped to watch, and the guy asked if I would like to feed them. He gave me a handful of oats,and within seconds there was a pigeon on my arm, and another on my shoulder! The birds were very gentle, and happily, didn’t do what they are best known for, on me.

The guy said we could walk away with a pigeon, and it would fly back,so this is what we did;about 50 metres along the path, I bent down and lowered the pigeon on to the ground and off he flew – back to his keeper.We waved to the man and he waved back. Keeping it simple.

Hiver is French for Winter – well,not everyone knows. Funnily, shiver contains it. Big drop in temperature this evening. When I came in from my car, the gauge was reading 12.5 degrees.

Had a line rehearsal at a friend’s house this evening – mega tired – so just checking in.

My son was washing a car at the car wash yesterday, and managed to leave his car keys behind. (There’s a riddle for you). Luckily he has managed to trace the previous owner, who has a spare car key, but I’ve got to give him a lift to Monaco, and need to be up early.

Realized yesterday that the play is on next week.Shite. Scarey. Why am I doing this? I ask myself this every time, but then I’m brilliant and everyone adores me, and I remember why. This is an “ensemble” piece – there are ten of us in it, so plenty of room for some spectacular mix-ups if people miss their cues/jump in too early, as can happen – but won’t.

More crucial news from Mundane Conversations soon.

Vide Grenier is French for jumble sale/car boot sale – or Empty Attic/loft.

I know you will all – (all one of you) be keen to hear about the sale.It officially started at 9:00,but the daughter wanted to be sure of a good spot, so heroically we got up at 6, having had about five hours sleep.We arrived at the school car park by 7:30 for setting up.
Crikey – all I can say is, don’t do a car boot sale by yourself – and you need good peripheral vision.

We had barely opened the boot when people started approaching us. “Have you got any mobile phones?” “Any bijoux fantaisie?”  – whatever that is – cheap jewellery?. One bloke had the cheek to shine his torch in to the car, asking us if we had any “antiquaires” . These guys were the dealers, and were extremely focused and unjovial – come to think of it, I haven’t met many jovial French people – unless you count some of the mothers I used to meet picking up their kids from school – but they were on anti-depressants, judging by their constant smiles.

We set up our trestle table – (impressed?) and our clothes rail (oh yeah), and folded some of the clothes to display them on the table,calling on my sales experience in Laura Ashley’s 30 years ago – I knew it would come in handy. Almost immediately, we were surrounded by people – picking things up, turning things over,asking the size then the price.

One woman tried on a red Nike hoody, and obviously knew her colours, as she didn’t doubt us when we told her it suited her. She went over to show her papa – he was around 80, she was about 60; and he smiled, so she paid, and walked off still wearing it.She got a bargain, by the way – paying a tenth of the price she would have paid new.

There were quite a lot of North Africans. A stout woman dressed in kaftan and veil was interested in a big roll of blue Provençal cotton material which I had propped up against the back of the car; it had been in our basement for over twenty years, and smelt strongly of damp.We agreed a price and she paid me, and said it was to make duvet covers for the grandchildren. I told her she would have to wash it;then as she wanted to put it in her trolley-bag, she asked me to unroll it. She had the last laugh, as I hadn’t realized how much material there was.

I stood there unrolling and unrolling, mentally trying to calculate how much I might have got had I sold it by the metre. I folded it in to a big pile and put it in to her trolley for her, and off she went, leaving me with hands stinking of damp basement – but 4 euros richer. The material had been left behind by a tenant of ours, so you could call that 400% profit – there’s good money in textiles.

If I learnt anything, it was that yes, it is best to get there early – we had sold 90% of our stuff by 10:00. Also, I think you need to be thinking in terms of getting rid of stuff before it goes mouldy, rather than any great profit. You heard it first on Mundane Conversations.

The brown jumper with the stain has had to be withdrawn from sale, because I have decided it will be perfect for a play I’m in in a couple of weeks. It has flared sleeves à la 70’s, and will do for the geek I am playing – in fact I’ve got 3 roles in this one (I think – still trying to work it out).

I was very grown-up this afternoon, and paid a visit “downstairs” – think damp and musty, with crumbling ceilings and piles of junk and books. I scratched around in the bin bags of clothes down there, and came up with some good stuff – several pairs of jeans in perfect condition,jumpers which just needed a wash and some softener,old brand new shoes and a couple of handbags “somebody will love”.

I managed to get the clothes washed and dried, as it was a beautiful sunny day, so am feeling unnaturally organized – even if it’s only a small start. I did have a look at the books, but decided to abandon that idea, having got stuck at an old casserole recipe book dating from the early 80’s – the start of my previous life, and therefore a tear-jerker.

Enjoy this blog while it lasts, as I am thinking of going private – and to anyone who is thinking of nicking my material – don’t.

What did I say earlier today? (Don’t worry – I don’t expect you to know) – something about the English who come down here and drink for Britain;  a couple I checked in to an apartment this afternoon had driven down from Wales, with a carload of stuff, and I offered to help them unload some of it; and in amongst the three cats, the coats, the hats and the suitcases, were six boxes of wine which I carried in for them…

As for the other place I went to earlier today to drop off the clean linen, the key that was supposed to have been left for me wasn’t  in it’s hiding place;and with perfect timing, it started to rain again. Well, I couldn’t stand around on the doorstep and let the linen get wet,could I? So after a quick phone message to the property manager enquiring about the key’s whereabouts, followed by a text to show I was “serious”, I put the linen and myself back in the car and raced home. Happy days!

A facebook quiz guessed what I do – nothing to do with the fact they wanted my name for marketing purposes, and it came back with ‘Writer’ – which is bad luck for you,oh readership of one.

Not a lot to say today – cue relieved sighs; the weather is slightly less crummy than it was yesterday,but crummy nonetheless.I’ve still got piles of other people’s clean linen under the stairs – I’m going to deliver one big bagful this morning, and see what level of mess the last visitors left – it was the owner’s wife and friends, so it will be mostly wine bottles.Some of the English who come down here seem to think it’s terribly Provençal to guzzle gallons of wine,darling.But what would I know? I’m only the cleaner.

Good news! For me, that is.The car boot sale is cancelled – postponed would be a more accurate word – and we cleaners do like accuracy. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow – I really don’t mind whether it does or doesn’t – I’m just grateful for the reprieve.

I have managed to pick out three freaky garments from my wardrobe – a dark blue military-style coat with HUGE shoulders –  so embarrassing; a jumper with flared sleeves, which I can’t believe I ever wore either, but it has the stains to prove it;and a pair of strange beige suede shoes that seemed like a bargain at the time, but have never been further than the bedroom.So not quite enough to make a stand  – as in, makeshift shop.

Meanwhile, over at the house I was cleaning this afternoon, they were taking things very seriously, and had hired a big van to transport their stuff to the same boot sale  – and a man to fill the van  – as in, carry the boxes and put them in the vehicle – not, he was so large he filled the van.

I had to go dashing off from the cleaning job to the Mairie, or mayor’s office – which sounds very grand, but trust me, it isn’t.The first time we went there, the older employee was doing her best to humiliate her younger colleague, very loudly showing her right in front of us, that “THIS” is the important piece of paper. In case you’re wondering, my daughter has been applying for a French passport,which requires a nice little sheaf of papers, and as with all things to do with administration here, if you get it right first time, you are extremely lucky.

So to make a boring story agonizing, I have only had time for a quick ham and cheddar sandwich, and I have to go and collect the daughter, and then go to my rehearsal. Who cares? Ah,yes – but I haven’t had a shower yet. I bet you care now. The English are the top users of soap in the world – followed closely by the Americans. Don’t start me off about the French and their hygiene – or lack of it.

Thanks for reading (maybe).

I just drove to one of the villages where I clean a couple of tiny houses, to drop off some clean linen – the owners were about to do an inventory; sorting things is not my fortë, so I acted as if I was in a rush, which I kind of was – to get home and have a cup of tea and write something. So I pretty much just dumped the bag of linen and ran.

On the way home I saw a big banner on a roundabout, advertising a car boot sale which is on tomorrow. Oh Christ! About a week ago, in a mad moment of doing-ness, I phoned up and booked a place, and I’ve paid for it too – so now I’ve got to see if we’ve got as much junk as I thought we had.Hopefully I’ll persuade the daughter to help – she’s good at all that organizing stuff – I’m better at being charming, and taking the money.

Big beautiful Provençal farmhouse to primp up this afternoon, as it’s for sale – luckily the owners are really tidy, so it’s not very difficult.

I’ve got another rehearsal this evening, so there isn’t a lot of time left to dig out those rusty tools and mouldy books for the sale – I’ll let you know how it goes. The pitch for the car cost 25€, so we need to make at least that much..

Watch this space for more riveting details.

Good morning – shouldn’t be doing this, as the whole purpose of me getting up early (well,not that early) is so that I have time for lunch and a kip later, before the meeting with the bank.I have a village house to clean before then – a big one this time;from the outside it looks tiny – just a front door in a row of front doors, but when you go in, oh lala – and I’m sure it’s haunted – but that’s another story.

Last night I had a line rehearsal at a friend’s house – only two of us out of a cast of ten showed up – possibly something to do with the fact they already know their lines, and we don’t. We’re working on a play that we have “written” ourselves,from a series of improvisations we did. The president of our drama group is back from holiday, and is insisting on coming to watch the rehearsal on Sunday, which is very unfortunate – (spot the euphemism), as we are far from ready – (spot the understatement).Qué sera sera.

Did I tell you I have a reader in Canada? Well, there was one blog view from Canada..

Back soon with more crucial facts from the South of France –  (spot the cheap way of trying to attract more views). Bonne journée.

I’ve been banished to my computer – yes, to it – not from it.

If you have read my About page, you might remember I waxed lyrical about lessive de soude – which is great for unblocking drains. Well, yesterday I put 3 litres of it down the kitchen sink, followed by a whole bottle of washing-up liquid, with a chaser of boiling water; a satisfying  glug from a pipe in the adjoining room made me think the blockage had gone – but that wasn’t the case.
Today it was blocked again.There’s nothing like two inches of greasy water staring up at you to make you feel like a loser.

I should have guessed something was afoot (try explaining that to a French person – not that I needed to, but you can imagine it would cause confusion if you did have to), when my daughter asked me first for a screwdriver, and later for a hammer – which I duly located and fetched respectively.

She managed to remove that receptacle thingy under the sink – only ours doesn’t unscrew, so she had to take off a whole section of the waterworks;she emptied it out, and there were lots of twiggy-looking things in there, as well as other delicacies that came out when she took it outside and washed it through with the  hose. (Hey, don’t y’all call tights hose? We call ’em tights, and we call a hose a hose). But I digress. She managed to put it back together, which saved me from having to say ‘You shouldn’t have touched it’. Got to hand it to her – I had tried to unscrew that thing, but as it had been painted over,and wouldn’t budge, I had given up.

No idea where this is leading – nowhere probably. That’s today’s excitement – apart from I cleaned two village houses this morning; the owners were around, which was a nuisance as it meant I had to mop the floors – well, I didn’t HAVE to, but sometimes you have to trust your instincts.

Remember – you heard it first on Mundane Conversations. More soon!