The brown jumper with the stain has had to be withdrawn from sale, because I have decided it will be perfect for a play I’m in in a couple of weeks.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!

Viewings of my blog are up 600% – which actually means it was viewed twice instead of once – don’t try and do the maths – it’s very sophisticated, and uses lots of logarithms and compound interest.

Too tired to write up to my usual standard, so just checking in.

Remember – you heard it first on Mundane Conversations.

Bonjour! Special hello to my US readers (if the stats are to be believed). Well done if I may say so, for getting in on the ground floor.

Something amazing happened yesterday – my kids and I went to see a film that I had chosen; it rarely happens that I manage to organize anything, so the fact that we got there in good time, and yes the cinema was open, was a promising sign.

First to rewind a bit, we needed sugar. My daughter and I went to the nearby supermarché and chose three bags of sweets  – four, if you count the Twix – (little product placement there).
I insisted on a packet of Mi-Choco; these are chewy caramels covered/enrobé with dark chocolate – the only hitch being they come in really noisy wrappers – something my sensitive daughter pointed out. She was going to put them back on the shelf, but we decided to unwrap them beforehand, which she did in the back of the car on the way to the cinema. Then all we had to do was make sure we got the timing right when we took the lid off the plastic box  – I’m trying to avoid saying Tupperware. She was very good at picking the right moments in the film – I wasn’t.

The film was Jersey Boys, directed by Clint Eastwood – if you haven’t already seen it, you should – unless you loathe musicals; though really this is a biography with music, and not an in-your-face musical like that Abba one, where every other line is turned in to a song.

It’s about how the Four Seasons band was formed in the 60’s – it was great – couldn’t fault it, except maybe the make-up when the group was meant to have aged was a bit dodgy – too much talc and eye-liner. The acting was good  though, and there was a nice lack of violence, though plenty of underlying threat, and mob references – and everyone seemingly watching out for each other, while nicking the other guy’s girlfriend, or mishandling the group’s finances.

The cinema was in a municipal hall, and I was surprised to hear so many French people in the audience – yes, we’re in France but it is an English-speaking film. At the end a couple of people clapped, and then a couple of people sniggered, because you don’t clap after films, I suppose. I felt like clapping too; this got me thinking; how does Clint know that his movie has been shown and enjoyed in a little village in the South of France? Or would he even care? The film got a Tony (good mafia name) award – thank you, wikipedia.

Watch this space for more meaningful monologues..

Well, that was a disappointing little morning.I took my car to be serviced today. When I got to the garage, I asked the young mechanic if they would check everything, and he presented me with an impressive-looking checklist. He told me their wheel-balancing machine was “en panne” (broken), but they could still change the oil. He said the whole thing would take an hour and a half.

So I went and sat down in the waiting area and read a bit of Saturday’s Telegraph which I had brought with me – then tried to do the crossword, after first checking through the clues to ascertain that I would actually be able to answer something , so that I wouldn’t look stupid holding a pen.

After an hour and a quarter I swapped seats so that I was facing the desk, behind which was the door where the mechanics went in and out – that way I would be able to catch the eye of the one who was coming to tell me “Madame, your car is ready”. Dans mes rêves (in my dreams).

After one hour forty five I decided to assert myself, and went over to the desk – there were at least three people behind the counter, including a girl (brave woman) – and several other customers ahead of me – mostly older people, so I wasn’t out of place.Cue gushing compliments.

Eventually the girl took my name, and looked me up on the computer, then produced some papers from under the desk pertaining to my car; I wondered how long I had been needlessly waiting, and whether they would have left me there all day if I hadn’t stood up.
She gave me the now-completed checklist, and said I needed to go and pay at the till, and that the cashier would give me my car keys.

So off I went, but just after I had inserted the payment card, the cashier’s phone rang; while she was talking to George Clooney  – (prove it), I took the opportunity to check the ‘after’ checklist. What I was looking for on the list were the brake lights;I had to ask the cashier to help me find them.

According to the printout, my brake lights worked, which was odd, as they haven’t for about two months.I told her I would come back; I removed the card from the machine and went back over to the desk, and asked Monsieur d’Huile to go throught the list with me. He said my brake pads needed replacing, but not yet. I told him my brake lights hadn’t been working – had they fixed them? He said they worked when they tested them – so…get this for assertiveness, girls – I asked him to come out to the car with me and check. And what d’you know? Only one of the three brake lights was functioning.

To make a long story painful, I bought the necessary bulbs and drove my car up to the workshop, where a begrudging young mechanic came out to change the bulbs. He did force a smile and an apology  when he had finished, blaming the oversight on his colleague, but I had already decided he wasn’t getting a tip – though I’d made a 5 euro note accessible in my bag, just in case.