Even deep purple romantics need boilers. Today was the annual service day. There is something about the smell of fuel oil – like airports and cross channel ferries. With no gas mains in rural France many folk have huge tanks of diesel fuel in their garden or garage. If you’re thinking of moving to France be sure to consider winter heating costs. Last February we burned our way through about 150 Euros in a week.
When the young man had finished his toil I went to pay him by cheque. Oh dear – no cheque book to be found. After a couple of shrugs it was settled that I could pop over to see le patron at his house when I could, or he could call back when he was nearby or maybe one day something would resolve the matter. Does this sound like corporate thrusting? Money matters here, but never at the expense of etiquette. Recently I have begun to notice a ramping up of big biz rudeness – (Orange France please note), but generally commerce is conducted amongst trusting partners. I do not exaggerate when I say that I feel that I am once again living in the times of my childhood before the rage of greed and madness tore us all apart and created a mob of competing strangers playing video shooting games.
So – le patron can be found easily – it is the house with blue shutters. Where? Well – it’s in a place without streets called “Lieu dit Les Benons”. Now, according to Gilles, “Lieu dit” translates as “a place calling itself.” So, anxious to clear the debt, out came the bikes and we set off to find the patron. Tradition here demands that shutters may be any colour you choose as long as it’s pale blue or pale green or perhaps pale grey/cream for real rebels. Shall I bore you with the rest……Let’s just say that we got home by dark.
A quick comment on on a comeback story. Thanks to e-publishing I believe that the novella is making a comeback. I had started to think that some publishers thought that paperbacks were sold by weight. Great Favorites of mine such as “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” (56,000), “Animal Farm”(44,000) and “Bonjour Tristesse”(35,000?) are novellas all being well short of a Harlequin romance. So today I chanced upon a novella by an American writer Barbara Mack called “Dreaming of You”. I wolfed it down in an hour and enjoyed its good old fashioned passion and what I call human juice. When someone writes with texture – you can feel it. Check her out here