The tub

I was looking around for a big water tub that I could use to quickly fill watering cans.  The current method of using a hose pipe from one of my big metre-cubed containers takes too long.   The sort of thing I had in mind was a big circular one holding 700 litres or so, called here (since intended for water for animals) an abreuvoir.   I looked at the price - of the order of €150 or so.  Not doing that.

So I enquired through the village self-help Watsapp group, and it turns out the Pierrick has something that might be suitable; a bit more than half of a metre-cubed container, the other part of which he is using to hold water for his goats.   It's perfect, and he gave it to me.

So I have been making a concrete hard standing for it, next to one of the existing containers, from which I can fill it up.   I'm in the process of digging up the stones from the veg patch so I'm using them as a base for the concrete.

I always manage to underestimate the amount of concrete I will need.   I bought ten 30 Kg bags, I used six for the rough first coat over the stones, and the remaining four got me about 40% along the top.   I'll need six more bags.

This is how it will finish.   I turned the original vat through 90° and put the new one alongside it.   Since they're deeper than they are wide they take up less length of the concrete base than I had planned, so there is room left for something else, such as a tool chest for example.   Maybe I will get one; it would be useful.   Meanwhile, we have frosty nights this week so I will finish the concreting when they are over.

New lamps for old

We have two outside lights on our house, and one went out a while back, the most likely cause being a dead bulb.  We didn't have any replacements of the right size so it stayed dead for a while.   A couple of weeks later, it came back on without my having done anything.   It was one of the compact fluorescent ones, so perhaps the starter was becoming unreliable.  It failed again after a couple of weeks.   Time to get a replacement bulb.

I got the new bulb, took out the ladder, changed the bulb and.... the new one flickers.  Damn, duff bulb, I'll have to take it back.   But just to check it, I plugged it in to a different socket indoors, where it worked fine.   So, dodgy wiring.   This is probably a problem in the light fitting.  I seriously hope that it is, since fixing a problem somewhere along the cable as it weaves its sinuous path from the distribution box to the outside world would be difficult or impossible.

Since unreliable wiring is a fire risk, the first thing to do is disconnect the light.   That done, I brought it indoors, took it to bits, and verified that it was, in fact, a corroded connection inside the fitting.   The insulation showed all the signs of having been overheated, so it was good to have prevented a possible fire.   But the fitting was unserviceable. 

These outside lights have been in place for over 40 years, and the paint is flaking off.   But they are well made, solidly built and the electrical safety precautions are in place and trustworthy.  It would be hard to find something of equivalent quality today.   So it's worthwhile trying to fix it.

I went to our local hardware shop in search of some kind of connector that might do the trick, and found one for €3.50 that, with careful modification, made the fitting work correctly.    Careful testing indicates that it is reliable.

This is a great opportunity to renew the paint, and Anita has been doing this over the last few days, carefully sanding off the old paint and replacing it with Hammerite.   The finished item looks pretty good.   I just need to wait for the rain to stop and I'll put it back up.

P.S.   Now of course, it looks odd to have one lamp freshly painted and the other all corroded and flakey so now I get to do the second one as well.

The artisan

We seem to be inundated with artisans these days.  Artisanal this and that; crisps, yoghurt, probably lettuce and sprouts too.   I have recently been interacting with the real thing: a Mr Guais at Chateau Gontier hand-makes accordeons; the traditional diatonic ones (you get different notes pulling and squeezing), about 10 per year in a little workshop that used to be a garage.  He makes the point that the musician and instrument will be working together for many years, so the instrument itself should be as beautiful as possible, given the constraints of functionality.   And so they are.

He is right of course.   The flute that I played for many years I chose from among the professional models available because it seemed to me to be the most beautiful.   Grey steel, sliver and black resin, all combined. 

Here's a couple of his accordeons to make the point:

I didn't contact him for a new accordeon, though.  He also services old ones, and I had acquired an old one cheaply.   You can come a cropper buying an old accordeon; it can cost you more to put it right than it is worth, and you might have been better off paying full whack for a new one.   Fortunately this was not the case for me, but none the less, tuning it and putting it right cost nine times what it cost me to buy.   But I do have a nice instrument, and still at a good price.

The workshop itself speaks of quality.   The tools are metal, heavy, floor standing and built to last a lifetime, not like much of the modern plasticised stuff.   It's what you need if you're going to do a proper job as an artisan.   

Mr Guais will be moving soon, to a purpose-renovated workshop on the banks of the Mayenne river, in a ex lock-keeper's cottage.   Renovation being done by the town, in an attempt to bring life back to these abandoned buildings.   Probably a good thing.

And now I'm trying to get my fingers around the new machine.   It's different from my smaller, student model, and will take some getting used to.  But it sounds nice.

Common walk

While staying with the friends in Wimbledon, we went on a walk on the common.   I hadn't been aware of the semi-natural state of this carefully tended common land.   Joint walks in the past tended to be over the grassy area around Rushmere pond at the South-Eastern corner of the common, but this time we drove to The Windmill, a museum at the centre.  From there, a walk to Queensmere Pond, and on to the edge of Putney Cemetery and back via Jerry's Hill.  Here's some pics.

England trip

 We're just back from a trip to England, visiting friends and family.   Here's a few observations:

Energy.  The houses we visited were cooler than we are used to.   Not cold, but cooler than we remember.  And other energy usage is being sharply curtailed; more attention is being paid to turning off lights in unused rooms, and so on.

Shopping.   A couple of things; we went into the shopping centre in Fareham, and it was definitely less populous than we remember.  There were more boarded-up shops too.  With people seriously concerned about their upcoming energy bills, non-necessities are being cut hard back.   This coming recession will be a doozy.  And price differentials between France and the UK.   An impact wrtench via Amazon was about £23 from .co.uk and for delivery to the UK, and around €47 for delivery to France from .fr  And the vitamine D pills that we pay nearly €10 for in France, were under £2 from a standard pharmacy in England.   And four quid for a plastic seed tray in a garden centre?  You're taking the Mick - you can get metal oven trays in Asda of about the same size for half the price.

We discovered a new garden - West Dean.  The village is pretty, with a clear stream running between the grass banks, and the garden, a shortway along the main road, is spectacular.  Their walled vegetable garden makes me envious.   We will aim to visit it again in Summer.

I had never seen espaliered fruit trees on a 3-D frame before.  It's something I might try.

And a walk on Wimbledon common - later for pics.

Survival wood chips

I have been impressed recently by the mutual self-help network that has arisen spontaneously in our little village.   It has matured to the extent that there is now a Whatsapp group devoted to local goods or services wanted or offered.   A bride forgets her wedding shoes and needs something finer to replace her trainers?  No problem.   Surplus squash for eating?  Put them on the wall in front of the bar, alert the group and they'll be gone in an hour.  A ride into town?  When can I pick you up?

I have benefitted from an example of this recently.  A pile of wood chips has been created, and offered around.   After a few days when everyone has had what they need, there's still a big heap left.  I'm collecting them to spread on the garden to keep the weeds down.   There's about three trailer loads - plenty.

I got a load yesterday and spread it on the flower bed.  Another that I got today is still in the trailer, and the last load remains as a heap, waiting to be collected later in the week.

It's a trivial example, perhaps, but it could well be that we are in for darker times, thanks to our wise politicians.   This sort of thing might be key to survival.

Memorial

It's become our tradition that when one of our pet cats dies, we bury him and plant a shrub or tree as a grave marker.   Our cat Minuit died at the end of long hot dry summer, so the options on offer at the local garden centre were limited.  I settled for a hardy Fucshia, the best of a tatty-looking bunch, but still alive at least.

The grave lies in a shaded corner of the garden near the grange, not ideal for Fuschias, but sheltered from wind and protectd by the thermal inertia of the building.  I have been keeping an eye on the plant for the last few years, making sure that it's thriving.   This year it has rewarded us with a big diplay of flowers.