Having signed the compromis de vente on the property at Mireval d'en bas back in August we have been waiting for an original signed copy to arrive in the post. This is, apparently, an important document that we will need to have in our possession at the acte authentique which is scheduled for 3pm on 24 November. For some mysterious reason that we cannot fathom this document has been sent by registered post to our UK address. We find this puzzling because, of course, we live in France. Nevertheless we have been hopeful that the letter will arrive in due course at my mother's house in Salisbury. We did have a phone call from Maître D's office enquiring as to whether we had actually received the letter and since then have heard nothing else. We have now given up all hope for this letter and are trying to make arrangements to procure another copy. I have a feeling this will entail a further meeting with the amusing Maître, so it isn't too disastrous.
Our architect, Mr V, has also been in touch again. He informed us that his surveyor Frédéric would be going to Mireval today to do all the measuring up needed for the preparation of the drawings. Although Mr V told us it was not necessary for us to go to site we could not resist popping up there to meet Frédéric and see if there was anything he needed.
We arrived at 11am and Frédéric was already busy surveying. Or at least that's what I think he was doing. Obviously I had no idea of what I was expecting to see him doing but I was a little surprised that the only piece of equipment he seemed to have was a red plastic bucket. Maybe his theodolite is still in the car I told myself. We chat for a while and I feel really guilty when he tells me that he left home at 5am and it took him 5 hours to get here. The traffic around Toulouse's périphérique was awful he tells me. We are standing on the lake side of the property looking back at the house when he rather worryingly asks where our property ends. He seems to think our buildings are rather larger than they actually are but gives one of those Gallic shrugs and tells me that it's not a problem to recalculate. He obviously sees the worried look on my face and assures me that his measurements will be accurate to the centimetre (or thereabouts). His red bucket must have amazing hidden properties, I must get one...
He does have a pad and pen as well as the amazing red bucket
And finally, a picture of our future garden taken at Mireval today.
Oi, get off our land. The brown and white patchy cow is probably standing on the fosse septique, while the closest brown one is in my orchard.