Day 11: Sunday 9th April 2017 I was left with strict instructions to finish the job in the garage before Rachel called to check that it was done. So I did it. And polished my halo. Then I looked at what still needed to be done before ‘The Men’ arrived and thought I probably couldn’t do it on my own. Trouble was, just about everyone I knew, and tried to contact, was away. However, after a number of phone calls, I tried Michel and Diana, who divide their year between Paris and Plaigne, near Mirepoix, and had already invited me to dine with them on Thursday evening. They were still in Paris! However, they told me of a couple who run a company called ‘Helping Hands’, who look after their house while they are in Paris, so I rang them, and got lucky ….

Day 12. Monday 10th: Andrew from ‘Helping Hands’ arrived quite early and very soon, with only a little help from me, he had got all the curtains down, removed the TV from the wall, brought the round patio table down from the pool terrace, and packed up the Cadac barbecue into its various carrying bags. We put these into Harry’s garage, along with The Boat, which I didn’t want the removal men to put on the lorry. I felt much better for getting that lot done, and Andrew also took away a number of rubbish bags to dispose of. Later that day Peter the Poolman came to look at the pool; he got it turning and brushed the bottom. Most of what was there was ready to disintegrate and go through the system, so the pool would then ‘just’ need cleaning again later in the week and further water treatment.

Day 13. Tuesday 11th  I made a phone call to the Notaire’s office, and actually got to speak to him. He explained my options regarding the sale, and I had an appointment on Wednesday afternoon anyway, when a power of attorney and other documents could be signed. Later in the morning I called the removal firm to ask if they had any idea where the lorry was, or an ETA, since I needed to go shopping and didn’t want to be absent when they arrived. This wasn’t a grump or a fret, since I knew they weren’t due till mid or late afternoon, but it amused Caroline at Wheadon’s because she’d never been asked that question for that reason before! She couldn’t say just then, but she found out and soon called me back with an ETA of 2pm at the earliest, so I went to Super U at Mirepoix, probably for the last time. A slight disappointment was that my favourite brand of Blanquette (Bubbles!) wasn’t in stock, so I bought a couple of untried ones, intending to ‘top up’ on the way home with Montlouis and Vouvray. The Men – and the lorry – arrived just before 3 and, achieving what the removers who brought the stuff down in 2012 had failed to do, they got the lorry into the parking area in front of the house!:

Then with a ramp set up onto the grass, the big carry out was so much easier:

The Men, Simon and Mark, got stuck in straightaway, and things began to disappear! But on that first day they didn’t touch the bedroom I was using, so that I still had a bed to sleep in and didn’t need to move into Harry till the next night.

You have bed in me!

Wow! Harry! You’ve been very quiet –

This is very sad.

I know …. But when I said ‘I had a bed ..’ I meant I had a bed in the house.

In Ordnung. OK.

Work continued till about 8. The lorry, with it’s sleeper cabin, was to stay where it was overnight, and at first The Men said they had everything they needed , but I put some potatoes in the oven anyway and as the smell of baking potatoes began to fill the kitchen, they thought perhaps they would join me for supper. It was a warm evening, so we enjoyed baked potatoes with sausages and beans on the terrace. The Men were delighted to be sitting out well after dark, and to watch a big moon rise above the hill to the south-east: (and is the bright spot centre top of the photo a star or Jupiter?)

Day 14. Wednesday 12th.

Starting at 8, Mark and Simon attacked what was left in the living room, then emptied my bedroom, the attic room, the garage and the carport. By 12, all was done:

Then:Orf went the van ….

… with me ‘ome packed in it ….

I had a bit of lunch, and began to clean and vac. I mopped the tiles in the living room, but then I had to go to Chalabre to see the Notaire. My options, it seemed, were to wait till June to see if the buyers got their money by then, to ask them to agree to break off the contract, or to serve notice on them, by registered letter, that unless they could provide proof of funding within seven days, I would withdraw from the contract. I explained that any delay would cost me money, so the agreed price would be too low. The lawyer rang the couple; if they would come into the office then and there, we could sign for a mutually agreed separation, otherwise they should expect the letter. They couldn’t come in just then, but agreed to do so the next day. So I signed the document, and the power of attorney to allow the Notaire to act for me in future.

Back at the house, the internet was still available, so I was able to watch a bit of UK television before retiring for a comfortable – and very quiet – night in Harry.

It is not always so!

Comfortable it is – quiet, no, not always!

Day 15. Thursday 13th. It was only after the removal van had gone, and the estate agent called, that I discovered while explaining which key was which, that the back door of the house, which we hardly ever used, was not only not locked, but couldn’t be locked – the key wouldn’t turn! Another call for help to Andrew! He tried hard to release the lock by unscrewing everything possible, but in the end he fixed the door shut, unopenable from either side. (Leaving a door unlocked and not knowing is one thing – driving away knowing the place isn’t secure is another!) Oh – he also bought the washing machine off me!

The lawyer still wanted documentation about the contract for the solar panels. Fortunately, I’d put all documents about the house – and the flat in Cumbria – into Harry before The Men came, but I had a long trawl through lots of paperwork to find what we needed. Then I had to go to Chalabre again to deliver it, and get copies.

It began to look increasingly likely that I wouldn’t be ready for the final drive away before going to Mirepoix for dinner. I still had to dispose of yet more rubbish, vac the attic room and sweep the garage. Well, I’d set myself the target to leave on Thursday afternoon or Friday morning, so not to worry.

The evening in Mirepoix was lovely, with a good meal at one of the restaurants on the square, in the company of Michel and Diana (he French, she English) and another friend of theirs. Carol and I had met them by pure chance at a restaurant just further along. It was a Monday in July 2014 and the square was very busy (market day). We had to squeeze in to the only available table and I was intrigued by the bilingual conversation beside us, so I joined in! As a result we went together to enjoy Fish n Chips at the night market in Puivert a week later, and they invited us to join in the July 14th event in their village. Carol was just beginning show signs of being seriously ill, but we had no idea why at that time.

Day 16. Friday 14th. I still had loose ends to try to tie up, and while sweeping garage I found some items behind the connecting door that The Men had missed! I’d missed them, too, in a way, because we had been through the house together to be sure everything had been picked up. So that was more stuff to wriggle into Harry’s garage! And a young man arrived from Peter’s Pool company to vac the pool.

I had some picture books of the Lake District in Harry, with text in French, German and Japanese. I thought one of these would be a nice ‘thank you’ souvenir for Marthe. This was an emotional moment, not only because Marthe had been the first person from the village to speak to us in September 2012, but because I wrote a message in the book drawing attention to pictures of Grasmere ….

So, all done at ‘Sunejo, (I hope) I drove out and closed the gates, taking the keys, and the book, to Marthe’s house to say ‘adieu’. She understood. ‘Vous n’allez pas revenir’, she said. (You won’t be coming back.)

Across the road I had to stop once more to offload another rubbish bag at the skip. I couldn’t resist taking this photo; it was Good Friday, and I was leaving: