Jeff and I had equipped ourselves with old clothes, hammers and chisels, protective masks and gloves weeks ago in preparation for today. Today, for the first time, we brandished tools with the intent of commencing the restoration of our dilapidated agricultural buildings and with the dream of our idyllic, eco-friendly, contemporary rural home firmly in mind. Yes, we actually did some work at Mireval.
Before I go any further I think it might be useful to state in the manner of Dragons' Den “where we are”:
our planning dossier was accepted at our local Mairie on 9th February and has been passed to the main planning office in Lavelanet. They have 3 whole months to authorise or decline our proposal. “Forget about default permission” Neil, our architect, had told us, “and there is an additional 2 month period after permission is granted when anyone can raise objections”. So the earliest we could begin “les grands travaux” is May, and even then the work will have to be restricted to the restoration aspects of the build (e.g. roof replacement) and not involve any of the facade changes that might be objected to.
Mr White, the Géometre, has made his initial visit and stuck a few wooden stakes in the ground. He now has to do various clever calculations and re-register the results with the cadastre. Hopefully he will then return and put the final bornes in position which will precisely define some of our boundaries. We do not have any idea how long this will take (but I'm betting it could be quite a while...)
We asked for a water supply to be connected over 2 weeks ago. We visited our local mairie and completed a form. “I'll mark it as urgent”, the ever helpful secretaire told us. We're haven't received the devis yet and we're not holding our breath on this one either.
We think we now understand who to ring for an electricity supply (you might imagine this is a simple matter as there is only one supplier in France – EDF, but let me tell you, you'd be mistaken) and what to ask for (a temporary Chantier connection apparently). We expect the lead time on this to be at least 3 weeks.
Basically the above means that the only useful work that can be done falls into the bracket of demolition and that is exactly what we have been doing today.
Jeff's first task was to remove the only internal partition wall at the property which is on the first floor of the gite. Now if this had been down to me I would have done it considerably quicker and would have merrily whacked it with the sledgehammer we've just bought and hoicked out the rubble with a crow bar. But not Jeff. He looks up and ponders the possibility that this flimsy bit of stone and plaster is, in fact, supporting the floor above. He then gingerly tickles out individual pieces of stone, muttering the whole time about the inadequacy of the ancient twisted timbers (they could be 16th century).
Meanwhile... I am let loose with a hammer and chisel and the result is mayhem. I notice several things pretty quickly (that is when I'm not distracted by the sparkling view of the lake through the window)
Before: the lime plaster still shows the vestiges of a sponged paint effect and borders. You can clearly see the intials R.A. in the shelved alcove which incorporates the simple basin made from 2 flat stones and one central sloping stone mounted in the exterior wall. There is a drainage hole directly underneath (almost at floor level).
After: a close up of a section of stone wall with the 2 layers of chaux partially removed. As well as stones you can see mud and straw... I also encountered patches of small layered stones, black soil (interesting as I haven't seen any around here) and tree branches (still with bark attached)
I have been using a range of techniques to remove the chaux varying from the aforementioned hammer and chisel, to levering it off with a claw hammer, to simply whacking it and standing back.
“Try this”, suggested Eric, brandishing a small drill with chisel bit. Jeff dutifully connected the drill to the compressor (which was outside the gite) and connected the compressor to the generator (inside the gite).
And oh boy, do I love this tool. After getting used to how to apply the necessary pressure, I was merrily removing large chunks of chaux with very little effort. I felt so much like a real builder that I was soon imagining sitting outside the pub with a foaming pint of beer in my dusty old clothes slaking the thirst of honest toil. The only slight problem with this fantasy was it's Wednesday and the pub doesn't open again until Friday night. Oh well, there are many more days of toil ahead.
In the meantime Jeff has finished his painstaking dismantling of the wall and is pondering what to do with the mountain of debris we have created.
“I'll remove some floorboards then we can chuck it down there and Eric can pull it out with the digger”, he says.
“Good plan”, I say, taking aim at a patch of chaux immediately under a beam.
“NOT THAT BIT”
“eh?”, I enquire as my hammer lands on the wall. I look up just in time to observe the entire beam moving sideways and downwards towards my head.
I have various thoughts at this point, such as “is this whole place held up by the chaux?” and “why have we started work on the middle floor of this decrepid barn and not at the top?”.
Jeff-y-fix. A too short salvaged timber (note the tenon at the top) is propped up on two flat rocks. The tenon is nailed to the beam to provide support. Well that's alright then, isn't it? Of course its not going to fall down.
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We have agreed that the first task tomorrow is to purchase hard hats and to check our insurance. Oh yes and I've agreed not to aim my hammer at any corners.