Corréze cottage

Bought a wreck of a cottage back in 2013(?) in a tiny hamlet down in the Corréze region. Made sense at the time, but old age, Brexit, poverty and a million other issues have meant it doesn't really make sense any more. And besides, the roof desperately needs renovating as it probably won't survive another winter. So, we contacted a roofing chum of the chap who cuts the grass (the cottage is a couple of hours' drive away so we're really fortunate to have a local man who's willing to keep an eye on the triffid growths in our absence). Arranged to meet the roofer last Monday at 6pm.

Had a very pleasant afternoon drive there, stopping off at Egletons Lidl to stock up on essentials such as vin rosé, vin blanc and vin rouge plus some other stuff. Being elderly and afraid of death we wore our face masks and so did most of the other shoppers, young 'uns included. Interestingly, when I nipped down the local mini Carrefour supermarché in Felletin yesterday, I was the only one in there wearing a mask. Ah well, better safe than sorry. So, shopping done, we headed for the cottage well ahead of schedule. To kill a bit of time we detoured, on Georgie's suggestion, to the nearby touristy village of Gimel-les-Cascades. It's a pretty little village perched on the side of a steep ravine and is famous (apparently) for its waterfalls. Unfortunately, due to my inability to walk far and lack of vacant parking spaces, we didn't get to see the watery bits, but we did drive down the tiny lane to the bottom and back up again without running over any of the ambling tourists who seemed oblivious to the imminent danger of a vehicle being driven by bad-tempered geriatric who was convinced that this deviation to a tourist hot-spot was not a good idea.

Having escaped Gimel-les-Cascades we stopped off at a nearby lake which appeared to have what looked like a café. Maybe it was shut due to this Covid-19, or coronavirus, or whatever it's called. No, it appeared to be open as there were a couple of gents at a table. But, there was a 'no dogs' sign, so Georgie waited at the lakeside with Hamish while I ventured inside to consult the management. No problem, small dogs okay. So we had a pleasant Orangina each and I had a small black coffee too. Looked up the café/restaurant on the internet when we returned home and it turns out to be quite a gem. Look it up - Bistrot de Ruffaud, Saint-Priest-de-Gimel.

Next stop, the cottage. Breathed a sigh of relief that the roof still hadn't collapsed after yet another winter of rain and snow. But, when we opened the front door, part of the interior ceiling had been holed by water from upstairs. Leaky roof. Where was the roofer? 6pm came and went. Still no roofer. Maybe he's not coming. Panic ye not, just as I was about to suggest we pack up and return home, the roofer turns up. He went inside to survey the problem with Georgie. I stayed outside with Hamish. Georgie said "you know that sharp intake of breath that builders do when they see the size of the task they've been asked to quote on, well, this chap did a few yelps instead". Be interesting to see what he quotes for - I suspect a new roof, rather than a touch-up job.

Anyways, we hit the homeward trail at about 6.45pm and enjoyed a sunny evening gallop over the Plateau Millevaches, a glorious bit of French countryside (look it up). Stopped off near home for a dogwalk and arrived home at about 9.30ish. Still light. That's what I like about summer. Sat outside with a cheeky little rosé as swallows swooped overhead. Good stuff.