I’m not sure what the young lady said but my joking answer about it being lovely getting a visit from the SPANC must have caused some offence because she muttered something, turned round, got in her car and left. Both the JBs were perplexed. They always got their jobs signed off and this was obviously my fault. About three-quarters of an hour later she turned up again and the JBs practically ran to intercept her so she didn’t have to speak to me. To everyone’s surprise, especially mine, she was a bit tongue-tied as she asked me to sign the French edition of my Practical Self Sufficiency book. I wrote a dedication in English thanking her for her help. She had a quick look around, smiled lots, signed off the work and then drove away. What a result.
With our forever sewage system in and functioning, a major milestone had been met and now we could stop worrying about what happened to our poopage, though two months later we were to find out more in the rather horrible episode of the poop volcano …
Finding the right lights for the château was a challenge that I loved … to a fashion. I did not have total freedom as Dick needed to check that it was possible to make them all work and to ensure that they were, well … lights and not hanging ornaments! Even with our shortened to-do list and pared-back fittings, there were still lots of lights to get. Before the wedding I needed:
A chandelier in the entrance hall – this was important. I bought an antique pineapple light from eBay in America for US$400.
A chandelier in the salon – also important. I found a lovely chandelier on Leboncoin for €320.
A chandelier in the salle-à-manger – important again (in fact, I suppose most of them were important!). This was bought for €55 from the slow-moving lady at the brocante.
Two wall lights for the back hallway. These came from the Emmaus for €5 each.
Two lights for the main staircase. For this, I chose two very Hollywood-looking steam engine lights, again from the slow-moving lady at the brocante. These were €230 for the pair.
A hanging light for the main kitchen. We went for a classic double billiard table light, which was €20 at the Emmaus.
Wall lights for the bathroom in the honeymoon suite. We chose a pair of Hollywood-style showtime lights from Ikea.
A selection of lights for the vestibule, bedroom and turret in the honeymoon suite. We went for Art Deco wall lights in the honeymoon suite. These were all purchased from the Emmaus at different times and cost between €5–20 each.
Lights in all the other rooms (so people could see!). These all came from the Emmaus and were the cheapest I could find!
Hand-held battery lights for the orangery.
Even compiling the list took a lot of time and I spent many evenings in our ‘horizontal office’ looking. In fact, every night I was searching for something. Lights were important, but I was also after a kitchen table, sofas, sideboards, mirrors, rugs and anything else quirky. We had brought a lot of stuff with us but the château is big and it took a lot to fill it!
I have a simple rule for Angela: she can have anything but she can’t have everything. That’s pretty reasonable and clear. It only becomes tricky if she doesn’t quite understand the pain her choices put me through. I get the fact that a pineapple is a sign of welcome (in Hawaii!) and that a light with the original patina is desirable but bringing back to life a light in which the fittings didn’t work and the wires were only insulated with paper was a slight inconvenience.
After a trip to the electrical section of Bricomarché *, I took up residence in the back kitchen. I knew it was going to be a long one and the kitchen has the best light in the house, so I brought down an audiobook on my phone and a bottle of water and set to work.
Once the children were in bed, I generally never went far, but I knew Dick would be getting himself worked up with my pineapple light so I slipped downstairs to check. In that moment, my heart melted. He had a foldable table in front of him, his glasses at the end of his nose, looking adorable, and there were old and new cables everywhere. I knew he was not happy, so I just smiled, kissed him gently and then ran off fast before I could hear the chunters.
In a château no one can hear you scream. I cursed and I fiddled, trying to thread new wire into the arms of the light. It must have had the wires installed before it was put together because I really struggled trying to get them through the very narrow tubes. Finally I managed to enlarge the entrance holes and get fishing line through by pushing copper wire in first and then pulling the line after it (god bless clove hitches). Then I used the fishing line to pull the cable through. It took a couple of goes before I discovered the 30lb sea fishing line was the best but I had to keep it under tension or the clove hitch would slacken. Six hours later and I had the wire in place so I could think about connecting and attaching the low-energy ‘candle’ fittings and bulbs. The eight fittings and bulbs actually cost nearly as much as the light but it would have been churlish to mention that to Angela.
As a wedding present, Jacques and Isabelle had offered to cut our grass. It was such an act of kindness that we will never forget it. I can’t lie: I actually liked the meadow that had grown with the grasses that had been scorched by the sun, but I knew having it cut was the right thing. There was no way we could say no to their kind offer. Jacques’ plan was to cut it twice: once in October and then again just before our wedding. It was not a small task as there were a couple of acres to cut. But he had the equipment to do it and gladly helped.
Jacques obviously loved the fact that his family home was full of activity and coming back to life. In addition to cutting the grass, he and his son Louie made themselves available to help distribute the gravel. Jacques drove the tractor, roughly spreading the gravel, and then Louie raked the ground. Louie is a charming young man – he was eighteen at the time and we loved that he never had a mobile phone; if we needed to get in contact with him we had to text Isabelle. It was a massive help and, in a day, with their tractor and all the attachments, Jacques and Louie achieved what would have taken us absolutely ages. We did have tractor envy but that would have to wait.
At the end of that day you don’t just say thank you and goodbye; we had toiled together so refreshments were in order. The least we could do was have drinks with the family on our new gravel. A little bit of bustling later and trays of drinks and nibbles were out. Soft drinks were the syrups you become used too very quickly in France, diluted with sparkling water. When we first arrived, we used wonder where the squash was, but now, of course, we had grenadine … On a warm summer’s evening we would have pastis or Suze served with ice or ice-cold water, but this was autumn, so I looked at Jacques and said, ‘A whiskey?’
He smiled and responded, ‘Bien sûr’ *, so crystal glasses, some Black Bush and a small jug of tepid water was produced. A healthy measure and a little splash of water to let the flavour out and then there was lots of toasting and general merriment.
I have to say it was very pleasant but definitely unusual for us to be drinking whiskey as an aperitif on an empty stomach. And, as a bird can’t fly on one wing, we had a second healthy measure too. It was a lovely relaxing time and there was lots of smiling, chatting and gesticulating …
We had been busy across a very wide front. Though it may seem logical to do one room from start to finish then move onto the next, that did not reflect the scale of our challenge. With so many rooms you would require the electrician to visit twenty times – a couple of times per room. Or the plumbing would need to be done ten times in ten different rooms. We had just about reached the point when some rooms could actually be finished. Lee and Kyle had been on holiday for most of the seven months since we last saw them but, bless them, they were prepared to come back and get some closure on the heating system.
There are three legs of utilities in the château. The first one provides water, waste, electricity and heating to the family kitchen, the boot room, the dining room and the service kitchen and plumbing to the temporary suite above ours. The second, middle leg provides heating to the temporary sui
te and would eventually service the boudoir (though that was not yet even a glint in our eyes) and the honeymoon suite and toilet. The final leg has heating, plumbing and electricity for the eastern side of the château.
Lee and Kyle came in and had a wander around to see what we’d been up to and then, without any further ado, they set about connecting and commissioning anything that needed to be brought to life. After a couple of very long days, we had all our radiators connected on the first three floors. The honeymoon suite’s bathroom was fully functional, which meant, together with our suite and the temporary suite on the floor above us, we had three working bathrooms – plus the temporary loo in the tower room off the dining room. Four loos is a luxury but far from enough for two hundred guests at a wedding – but that was yet to be addressed … As they left, Lee did his very famous head shaking, which translates to, ‘You are barking, but good luck.’ Next time we would see them was going to be at the wedding and we had told them in no uncertain terms that they were not allowed to bring coveralls or any tools.
I have had the privilege of going on a many brides’ journeys with them. I often get an early peek of their wedding dresses as we plan every detail together. I have always stood by the sentiment that a huge part of the celebration is in the planning. Dick and I knew we had taken on a mammoth task. Though trying to organise a three-day wedding in a new country, alongside all the renovations and looking after two young children was actually quite amusing. Writing it down now makes me laugh. I’m strong and do not like violins and have few moments in which I cry out of frustration. But the wedding dress was one.
I had spent many evenings and ‘children sleeping in the car moments’ looking at what sort of dress I would like and I came to realise that I’m just not a wedding dress sort of girl. I never ever found anything that I liked for me and my shape or even anything I could picture myself in. I suppose there was always something more pressing or important and I did not want to think about me. Dorothy was only just one and I moved about wearing maternity bras. I had no idea about my body any more. I guess this often happens after children. I’d spent most of the last nine months in a denim boiler suit but I decided that was not a good look for the big day. Being in another country, I did not know where to even look. Not being in control of this made me sad. So I had a good cry and then immersed myself into the task of finding a wedding outfit.
I took myself up to the old servants’ quarters. Next to my workroom was a room with lots of cupboards full of our posh clothes we no longer wore. I decide the first thing I would do was explore what fitted my new post-children body and then I would see if I had anything in my wardrobe that still excited me.
The room was small but the light was beautiful and dappled and it had beautiful wooden floors. I often thought it was lovely conditions for a servants’ area. I started taking clothes out of the wardrobe, many items still with covers on. There were capes, dresses from the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s, kimonos, outfits that I used to wear when hosting, fur stoles, dresses I had made, dresses that did not fit and some that surprisingly did. It was a lovely walk down memory lane. Lots of the items had been purchased for specific occasions and all those moments came flooding back to me.
When I pulled out the 1940s wiggle dress that I was wearing when I met Dick for the first time, I got goosebumps. I loved this dress. I’d nearly worn it to its death. It had a slash neck, which was very forgiving, and little darts that cinched in at the waist. At the front there was a v-shaped panel of fabric which ruched into the waist – this was clever as it took the eye away from the belly. The fabric had a slight stretch to it and was a beautiful lilac floral. The length was also good, just below the knee (like a lady should). I loved this dress and always felt like a million dollars when I wore it – it certainly did the trick on that night, 14 November 2010 … So my idea was to have this dress remade in white silk. It was perfect. I felt the weight falling off my shoulders.
It was time to get real about what we could get done in time for our wedding. There were a couple of limitations: our funds and our bodies. At this point, we were functioning on less than five hours sleep a night and the other nineteen hours a day were spent working, so we were getting a bit knackered. We had budgeted pretty well but there was no way we could pay for more horsepower above what we had committed to.
Now in October, Angela was getting frustrated that we had not started to do all the decorative touches she had dreamt of. We were not being idle. It was just a lot of work that took a lot of organising, a lot of sourcing materials and a lot of doing. Deep down she understood that – though unfortunately it was fairly deep down! When we started to take things off our list that would have to wait until phase two, I could see her bottom lip quivering. But it was sensible to make this call as soon as we could to ensure we didn’t waste time or effort.
As the windows had mostly had new glass put in and the rotten wood had been filled to make them safe and sealable, we decided a lick of paint over the ugly patches would be enough to see us through another winter. Our suite was going to have to remain untouched. We were comfortable and the children weren’t suffering. At best it could be described as looking jaded – more accurately it could be said to be a bit squalid. It wasn’t really a place to entertain but actually we loved it and were very happy there.
Apart from the honeymoon suite, the guest rooms would remain very basic as well. Our temporary bathroom on the fourth level was working and four of the rooms could be described as bedrooms, so we agreed no more effort was to go into the guest accommodation.
With the meadow cut and the gravel spread, the outside was also considered done. It would have been great to spend some time on the outside of the orangery but actually the problem would be where to start or stop so it was best to just accept it as it was. For the interior we would have to make do with the mismatched chairs, as the time and budget to cover them just wasn’t there. Likewise, we didn’t have the chance to go searching for a couple of hundred soup spoons (the one bit of cutlery that hadn’t been in the Vintage Patisserie equipment boxes).
It actually came as a relief that we had made some decisions and taken massive chunks off the list. You have to know when to draw the line and we had come so far. I’m sure I knew that at the time as well. Or maybe I’m writing this with the benefit of hindsight. We still had to finish the kitchen, the entrance, the stairways, the salon, the salle-à-manger, the playroom and the honeymoon suite and make them as beautiful as possible for our guests. Even a quick tidy, clean-up and some flowers would have taken a good amount of time. But thank goodness the ‘grubby’ work was coming to an end. I could not wait to get stuck in without mess being made.
During our search for extra help, Julian mentioned his friend Tina. She lived less than an hour away, was a quick learner and was game to have a go at anything. Tina’s brilliant attitude along with her kind and caring nature meant she quickly became part of the team. Our limited funds were the only reason we didn’t have her working eighteen-hour days with us – she was a huge help and was really getting stuck into all the woodwork painting. I also found out in later years that she is a great machinist and upholsterer. I quiz her all the time for her knowledge. In time, we also watched Tina and Julian fall in love. They didn’t tell me, but I could see how they looked at each other. Tina still works a couple of days a week for us but she now spends most of time with Julian. Happy ever after I say …
But with so much painting we needed another set of hands. I felt like if we found someone who could start that very moment and paint 24/7 until the first guests arrived, we may possibly have got all the newly-plastered walls finished. (It had taken Nadine three days to paint the playroom.) I was saying goodbye to Steve the plasterer around this time and I asked him if he knew anyone that could paint. ‘My wife Denise is brilliant,’ he said. ‘She’s brilliant because I taught her.’ You’ve got to love a bit of modesty. The very next day Denise flew in with her cape (or actually her brushes).
I’m
pretty sure that when Denise arrived she said she was a better painter than Steve. I just had to laugh at having another competitive couple at the château. I explained that we didn’t really have time to prime the walls and then do two coats of paint, so I had an idea (an idea that any good decorator would gasp at). If we added a 20 per cent ratio of water to a tin maybe it would water the paint down enough to allow it to go straight on and not clump on the plaster. ‘Let’s give it a go,’ Denise said, and to everyone’s surprise it went on like velvet. It also meant that we got the grand staircase walls done in just a few days.
Even with the new sewage system in, we had insufficient toilets for the wedding guests. Obviously we looked at hiring more nice loos but the price of four toilets for the weekend was €1,800 – ridiculous! We needed to come up with another answer. After a bit of head scratching and research we bought three sheds for less than €100 each, two very cheap flush loos and a chemical cassette toilet. The two sheds were erected outside the château beside the septic tank. A little fiddling with some hoses to connect them to a tap in the workshop and then some creativity with some 100mm waste piping and cutting holes in the sheds gave us two flushing toilets. Now it was just a matter of connecting them directly into the septic tank.
The chemical loo we put in a shed beside the orangery. So that was three more to add to the one in the tower off the dining room, the two in the honeymoon suite, the one in our room and the one on the fourth floor – not terrible, even if some were tucked away. But to relieve the pressure on them we decided that we also needed some pissoires, so we stood a urinal we had inherited in the woods beside the orangery, with the pipe disappearing into a rapidly dug and loosely backfilled hole. A few pretty candles and it would actually be very atmospheric. As well as one functioning toilet inside, when we first moved in our château also had a couple of outside toilets at the rear. They were quite special, as both were double seaters. Well ‘seats’ is a bit of an exaggeration but there was a large plank in each with two holes cut into it so two people could take up residence at the same time, very sociable. They had obviously been neglected, but removing the seats showed that each of the small rooms were actually just floors suspended above large holes that disappeared down below the water level. We had to assume there was some sort of pipe that connected the holes to the moat to allow ‘things’ to swim in and eat the ‘waste’. We decided to take a tired old bath that Angela would never refurbish and put it in one of these outside toilets, over the hole with a ‘Pee here’ sign above it. All very makeshift and low tech, but cheap.
A Year at the Chateau Page 23