THE KITCHEN EXTENSION......A CAUTIONARY TALE

We bought our house in France and enjoyed it enormously.  However, there was one big drawback...the kitchen was the size of a shoebox, complete with 2 doors, which limited what you could do with it to.............not much.  So, when we moved to France (in a different area) for 19 months, I got a job at the local university teaching English and we decided to save almost all my salary for a new kitchen.

The kitchen has a door through to the garage, but the garage has a stud wall cutting it in half.  In addition there is a flower bed directly outside the garage's up and over door so it is clear that the garage has never been used as such.  We use the back part of the garage for the freezer and some kitchen storage.

Our plan is to knock down the stud wall, the wall between the kitchen and garage, put a wall and window where the garage door is and to knock in a side door so we can access the house from the car after shopping.  If funds allow we also want a carport on the side.

So we need a builder.....easier said than done when you don't live in your house for most of the year.  We found a Portuguese chap who had lived in France for 30+ years and who had done work for the local mairie as well as a neighbour's daughter so we ask him for an estimate.  He is most agreeable and co-operative.  He comes round, talks things through and takes away the details to draw up the estimate.  He says we will need to get a plumber and electrician as he doesn't do that but he will get the tiler.  He recommends tradesmen.  We also want to sort tiles, units, heaters etc ourselves so he doesn't need to do that.  In order to minimise possible confusions we have detailed lists of everything which needs doing, down to where we want sockets to go. 

 My husband draws up plans and submit them to the mairie for planning permission and this comes through in due course.  We have to enclose before and after photos, which take a bit of fiddling, but we manage.  You don't pay any fees until the work is done, when you inform the mairie you have finished.  We actually haven't finished because we got planning permission for a roof light in the big upstairs room but haven't got round to fitting it yet.  No-one seems to mind as long it eventually gets done. 

When the estimate arrives it is by no means cheap but we expect to get what we pay for and since we haven't been able to find another builder we go with it, specifying that we don't want the car port which is horrendously expensive.  Next visit to the house we meet up, finalise start dates (September 1st) and how long it will take (8 days) so then we go off to Hygena to choose the units.  We hved lots of fun and arranged for our kitchen to be fitted 2 weeks after the builder's start date, which should have been fine.  Everyone seems most professional.


By the September we had returned to the UK and I didn't have a job so I went back to France for the building work.  Our daughter and her children are living in the house at the time, although 2 are weekly boarders, which leaves me, my daughter and her 2 year old foster daughter during the week.  We expect some disruption and move everything portable out of the kitchen and into the dining room.  We have a plug-in hot plate, an electric grill, a kettle etc so it should  be fine.

Day 1
The builder arrives with 2 helpers; he sets them to taking down the stud wall and removing the garage door, which he takes away although that was not part of the agreement and which we had been expecting to sell.  We never saw it again.  Once that's gone he sets them to building the wall and fitting the window frame.  By evening he has been gone all afternoon, leaving the 2 lads to work unsupervised.  They cover the hole which is the window and leave.  They return the following day and cut the new door in the side wall.  This they 'seal' with a tarpaulin and an old door propped against it, not really very secure is it?

During the next couple of days the electrician comes to disconnect wires and the internal wall comes down.  The freezer by now is in the hall and we are washing up in the bath but it's OK.  Then everything stops.  We see no-one.  There is no door in the side wall.  I am very worried.  Phone calls to the UK are costing a fortune.  I spend a sleepless night with a dictionary working out how to call the builder and demand he returns to work. He obviously has another job and I understand that he needs to keep everyone working but the 8 days time span is certainly going out of the window, which is now in place with glass but without shutters. 

The builder returns to work after the phone call and fits the side door.  He asks my daughter which way round I want it to go!!!!  There is only one way to fit the door.....ie with the metal grill on the window light on the outside so the bit of wood at the bottom of the door that the rain runs off is also on the outside.  He waits till she has taken the little one to nursery and then he asks me which way I want the door.  I say 'The right way' and he talks about the car port.  I remind him that we are not having a car port and I want the door to open into the kitchen not out.  

He fits the door the wrong way round.

Another sleepless night with a dictionary while I work out what to say to him and the next day I phone him.  He is furious, adamant that I wanted the door opening out into the non-existent car port.  My husband rings him from UK.  He rants to both of us that it will cost us for him to rehang the door. 

Days later the door is rehung and he asks for the door furniture so he can fit it.  We give him the box and he says he can't fit it because there is a screw missing.  There isn't, but what can you do?  We go and buy another which he grudgingly fits, keeping a key for himself.  This key becomes a bone of contention.  It takes us days to get it back and he is furious that we won't let him keep a key to our house.  To make his point that he needs access he arrives at 8am the following day, ringing the door bell as if it's the end of the world.

During this time electricians and plumbers have come, worked and gone.  The 8 days are long gone.  I have no idea when I'll be able to return to home and husband...I can hardly leave my daughter and a 2 year old with him.  Throughout his attitude to us is aggressive and uncooperative.  He is charm and compliance itself on the phone to my husband.  He is the epitome of a male chauvinist pig with us and we don't trust him an inch, or rather a centimetre.


We have bought the tiles, taking a floor plan to the shop and letting the shop assistant do the calculations.  There are no where near enough tiles so we need to get more.  For once the builder is helpful and lets us buy them through his account to save us a bit of money.  The tiler does a great job and the builder proudly shows me the strip of something which has been laid where the 2 different floors meet so there will be no shift in the tiles.


Eventually the work is finished, although there are still no shutters on the window and he refuses to make good a large hole where the skirting board was removed.  We have decided to fit the new skirting boards ourselves....... anything to get him out of our house.  We are still washing up in the bath because Hygiena can't fit the units, including the sink unit, for another few weeks.  I can come home at last.


The units are eventually fitted so all we will need to do is skirting boards and tiling splashbacks behind the units, or my husband can.


The end of October finds us back in our house, really pleased with the units.  My kitchen is how huge, light and airy.  The builder suddenly appears one morning with the shutters for the window.  They are unfinished wood and he hangs them rather badly.  My husband asks if he can make good the hole in the skirting board and he is all smiles, Of course, no trouble.  We are sure that if my husband had been in France for the build we would not have had all the difficulties.  He has no respect for women.  Perhaps it's the Mediterranean blood in him.


We choose tiles for the walls and my husband fits the skirting boards.


Eventually the bills come in.  We pay the plumber and electrician.  Then the builder's bill arrives.  He has charged us for rehanging the door and even for the strip of whatever it is on the floor where the underneath changes.  Naturally we don't pay for these last 2 items but send a cheque for all the rest.


Some weeks later we are amazed to get a summons from the court ... he is suing for the rest of the money.  Our daughter goes to see the court officials and they explain that she can represent me so we don't have to go back to France when the case comes to court.  We prepare detailed photos (I took lots during the build) and our side of the case.  In the end he doesn't show and we get the verdict by default.  All that for what?  It later transpires that he has been fined for breaches of health and safety rules, sending his apprentice up ladders without a hard hat etc.


Looking back I suppose we should have had 2 or 3 estimates but it's really difficult to find builders.  Still, we hadn't bargained for his appalling attitude.  I don't think a British builder would have treated us in the way he did, but then he isn't French, he's Portuguese.  Perhaps they do things differently there.

WORKING IN FRANCE........ANOTHER CAUTIONARY TALE

LEARN FROM OUR BITTER EXPERIENCE

First let me say

OUR PROBLEMS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FRENCH.

My husband and I moved, lock, stock and barrel, to France 6 years ago when my husband took up a new post as Anglican Chaplain to a congregation of ex-pat Brits in a part of France I shall not identify.

Unlike chaplaincies in the UK if you work in Europe you are actually, legally, employed not by the diocese but by the local church council. They also are responsible for your salary, health cover and expenses. We were interviewed and agreed terms and conditions, which were in line with diocesan requirements and my husband signed the contract of employment. It seemed a good move since we are hoping to retire to France where we have a house and family. My husband took early retirement and a reduced pension in order to accept the post. We sold our car to help with expenses.

There was no housing provided but a housing allowance and a chaplaincy car were promised in the contract. A member of one of the four congregations which made up the chaplaincy had offered the loan of their holiday house for as long as needed so we thought we were sorted. Otherwise how could we have found somewhere to live before we moved?

The chaplaincy council had pleaded poverty so we did an almost do-it-yourself removal....not really a good idea when you are of pension age. We were promised a team of strong men to help unload so we made do with one removal van and its driver. Our son and his son helped load; my husband got up at 5am the next day to drive down with the van; our son and I travelled by train.

We were met at the French station and fortunately I had the foresight to ask if they would stop for some supermarket shopping …. after all I could hardly have carried a week's shopping on the train and the van couldn't possibly be unloaded until the following morning. It was just as well I did because when we arrived it was a dark, cold, wet November night and not only had no-one bothered to put on the heating in the house or to provide any food (not even teabags) but we later discovered the house was in a tiny hamlet which had neither cafe nor boulangerie. I'm not sure what we would have done if I hadn't asked for a shopping stop!

As my husband arrived in the van our chauffeur began asking for the key to the chaplaincy car (as if we would know where it was) because there was something in the car which he needed and he was in a hurry. Some welcome.

Needless to say no-one turned up the next day to help unload so my husband, son and the 70 year old van driver had to do the whole thing. They were absolutely done in by 6pm. One member of the congregations had popped in to say 'hello' and leave a bottle of wine but that was it. No-one from the church council so much as phoned to see if we were OK or if we needed anything. We should have realised then what a huge mistake we had made. No-one from the council called in or phoned at all during the first few weeks.

Things got no better. No-one helped us find accommodation. There we were in a foreign country with no real idea of where the best location would be for the chaplaincy house....the 'parish' is the size of Yorkshire so it would have been helpful to have advice. (Our house in France is no where near the chaplaincy area.)

We felt that the holiday house wasn't really suitable for a long stay because we had to cram all our furniture in with what was already there in a fully furnished house. Every outhouse and the attic were full of our stuff and when my husband needed reference books he had to climb over boxes as he tried to locate what he needed. This is not to be ungrateful to the house owners. They were incredibly generous, based in the UK, and after we had moved out they refused to let us pay for electricity, gas, heating, telephone or anything else.

We did find a suitable house but being a French let there was no cooker or any laundry machines in place though we were fortunate to find one with kitchen units. Most French rentals do not have kitchen units in place. Most have just a sink, no unit or cupboards.

My husband contacted the church treasurer because we had not been paid the housing allowance on the grounds that we were staying rent free in the holiday house but now we had found a suitable rental we needed to pay a deposit and the first month's rent in advance. Imagine how we felt when we were told that the chaplaincy would not help at all. Where did they think we would find that much money? It came out of our savings, which were, and still are, not very big. There should have been a moving in allowance but we didn't get it and we didn't realise we should have had it until years later! So we were really out of pocket by the time we had moved and settled in. At least the chaplaincy paid the second removals and this time we had a proper firm to do the job.

About that time I really needed to see a doctor but we found we had no health cover. 100% health cover for the chaplain and his family is a diocesan requirement and was clearly stated in the contract but the treasurer did everything he could not to pay this. The chaplaincy council was indifferent. We had a real battle on our hands and the council was certainly in an illegal position but they couldn't see that they were my husband's employer and had legal responsibilities. I couldn't go to the doctor because I had no idea what it would cost as I knew I needed tests of some sort. It was rather frightening and we were getting increasingly alarmed at our position. My husband also had no pay slips. The treasurer argued churches didn't need them He was clearly wrong but never budged his position. We never saw a pay slip.  We don't know if any pension contributions were made.

After much heated discussion, heart ache and desperation ten months after taking up his post we got our health cover. 10 months it had taken. Mind you it wasn't 100% cover; that took 14 months in total and by then we had decided to leave and my husband had already seen the appointments adviser in London.

I started work at the local university in the September so I had 100% health cover from them and so could get the medication I needed, 10 months after moving.

Why didn't we get help??? Where from?? We rang the relevant department in the UK and were told 'It seems to me that you are an illegal worker and I cannot talk to you'.... how helpful was that!

We met with the British consul but she did absolutely nothing at all. We got in touch with the diocese and the archdeacon was not helpful at all. He did eventually come to visit but he arranged a meeting with the council, including lunch and a communion service to which neither I nor my husband were invited!

My husband saw a local solicitor and he had hardly started to explain the position when the solicitor stopped him, saying he knew exactly why he was there. He was not the first chaplain to be sitting there pouring out the same tale of woe. We couldn't decide whether to be appalled that this was an on-going situation or relieved that it wasn't just us who had suffered like this.

There were other pretty dreadful things to contend with as well. One winter evening I was checking our bank account when I realised there had been neither stipend nor housing allowance paid for that month. It was the 6^th so the payments were a week late, and the 6^th is when our standing orders go out to cover rent, local taxes, phone, electricity etc. You are not allowed to go overdrawn in France so I had a bit of a panic. As far as I knew the treasurer was still on his winter cruise. My husband was out on parish business. I rang the helpful churchwarden but she was out. So I rang the unhelpful churchwarden and the conversation went something like this:

Me Sorry to ring but D hasn't been paid. It's the 6^th and our standing orders are going out today.

Her Do you know what time it is? It's very late.

Me Yes it is late... a week late. The treasurer is on holiday and we have not been paid.

Her You are not employed by the chaplaincy council.

Me No, but my husband is and he's not been paid.

Her Well, he can ring at the proper time in the morning.

And she hung up!

I was almost incandescent with rage. What were we to do? Would we be in trouble with the bank? By the time my husband came in I was almost in tears of rage and frustration.

We discussed options, which boiled down to us having to ring the helpful churchwarden at 7.30am because I knew she had an 8am class at the University. She was super and met D in town at the bank and handed him cash to tide us over. It later transpired that the treasurer had a convoluted system of taking money from one account to another and then making the payment. We had assumed, wrongly, that there was a standing order in place so that the stipend was always paid on time.

The system remained in place, we never had an apology from anyone and, on the whole, we were considered to be a nuisance. The prevailing attitude was that of servant and master.

One dark, cold February Tuesday night we were coming back from a meeting when the chaplaincy car conked out in the middle of no-where. Thanks goodness for mobile phones. The tow truck was there in 30 minutes and the insurance covered a taxi home and a week's taxi. Unfortunately the insurance only allowed for one week's taxi. The car was so old that it wasn't worth repairing so the treasurer decided, without a council meeting, that he would buy another car with chaplaincy funds. He was so determined not to spend another penny on taxis he rushed into a decision and bought a 7 year old car for more than a new one would have cost. It even came complete with artistic dents.

Then he tried to force us to agree to pay more for our personal use. We refused. Terms and conditions are reviewed in January each year and it was well past January. We were already paying a high mileage charge and it was not acceptable. Threats were made. It was unbelievable.

Thankfully we moved back to the UK. The chaplaincy had to pay for our return because they had breached the contract. That's all I'm going to write otherwise you, the reader, will lose the will to live! But be wary if you move to France to work for ex-pats........they may not know employment law and they may not even care.

IT'S ENGLISH, BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

Sometimes I think it's a good job I learned English before I realised how difficult it was! 

I think I could use this for a good, if somewhat hilarious, discussion with advanced students of English.  Thanks to my friend S who emailed this.

You think English is easy??


1) The bandage was wound around the wound.

2) The farm was used to produce produce.

3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

4) We must polish the Polish furniture.

5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewerline.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear..

19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

WHAT I'LL MISS IF WE DO MOVE TO FRANCE

1    Local musical theatre groups.  We have belonged to the local Gilbert and Sullivan Society, taking part in performances, wherever we have been living.  It's great fun and singing is good for you!

2     The local  pub. It's  not that we spend a lot of time 'down the pub' but there isn't anything quite like a pub in France.  There are lovely cafes and bistros but they're not quite the same somehow.

3    Fish and chips  Again, we don't have fish and chips every day or even every week but it's such a comfort on a cold, busy day when you need something hot and tasty, fast.  I spent my early teen years hanging around the chippie with my friends and it brings back many memories.

4    Take-aways There are almost no take away food shops in France. There is the occasional Chinese restaurants which does take away, and lots of rather expensive pizza parlours which do take aways, but many small towns have NONE. 

It came as quite a shock when, after a long day doing things in the house, my husband went out for a take away only to find there wasn't one anywhere at all!  Quel choc!

5   Church  In most parts of France you won't find an English speaking church, let alone an Anglican church so we will have to go to a local Roman Catholic church.  Having said that, the liturgy is not too hard to follow though I can't follow a sermon yet.  They talk too fast!  But the Catholic church in the old town of Vichy is an absolute gem.  Originally a very old church, it got bashed about at the revolution but was rebuilt and has marvellous mosaics all over the walls and ceilings.  It gets a huge congregation on Sunday morning and the only drawback that I can see is that there isn't a boulangerie near it for us to buy our Sunday loaf and by the time we get back to where there is one it's usually closed.  Quel horreur!

SHOPPING... VIVE LA DIFFERENCE?

French supermarkets are just that..............super.  They have excellent choices of all foodstuffs and especially fresh food.

In the bigger supermarkets you will find big fresh fish counters, with shell fish as well as wet fish, all sorts of kinds, displayed in ice.

The butchery counters are vast by UK standards.  There's often a butcher on hand to serve exactly what you require but even if there isn't there will be several chilled counters of fresh meat.  One for beef, one for pork, one for poultry, veal, lamb etc etc.  In summer there will be huge quantities of freshly prepared kebabs, beefburgers etc.  There will be beef kebabs as well as pork.  They thread the meat with small slices of fat and peppers in between. Very tasty.

 Some of the bigger supermarkets have large packs of meat or fish in the chiller cabinets which you can split and freeze.  You can make good savings here.

Fruit and vegetables take up a much bigger shop floor area than in the UK, both organic and not organic.  In summer clementines, apricots, nectarines and peaches come by the boxful....a very good way to buy them.  You can always get fruit and vegetables loose so you can buy just 1 apple if you want.

BUT you must remember to weigh your produce and stick on the price label.  If you don't then when you get to the checkout your fruit or vegetables will not be accepted and you will have to go back to the fruit/vegetable department and weigh them!  Very embarrassing since everyone has to wait till you get back.  It helps if you make a note of the reference number of the particular item, especially is there are several varieties of apples or pears etc.  There are pictures on the weighing machines but it can be confusing so it helps to note the number, displayed above the counter, together with the price.

Individually priced fruit and veg don't need to be weighed.  The checkout girl (it's not usually a man in France) will know the prices.  

Of course there are big frozen food cabinets with everything you would expect and more. 

Cheeses are on display in abundance.  There will often be a fresh cheese counter where you can specify exactly what you would like or you can choose from the chiller cabinets.  There will be a much bigger selection than you are used to here.  Enjoy, though if you love Cheddar or Double Gloucester you will be disappointed.


Water... there will be a bigger variety than UK.  Just be careful because some are rather unusual.  We have a house near Vichy and some of the waters from the various springs are not always pleasant to our taste.


Wine.....a very great choice.  Take your time and keep a lookout for special offers.

Spirits.....not always the choice you expect, though whisky is freely available.  You can't usually find Pimms or sherry but gin and vodka are plentiful.  Port is there but more often tawny or white.  Ruby port is not always on the shelf.  There are other drinks which are very similar to amontillado sherry....Muscat.  Very drinkable.  Funnily enough brandy or cognac is not always easy to find either. Strange.

You will usually find the crisps, salted peanuts, olives etc near the alcohol. 


There is usually a very good array of breakfast cereals, together with biscotts, dried bread rusks, very nice with butter and jam but very brittle.


There will a wide variety of oils and vinegars on the shelves but you will struggle to find white wine vinegar.


One thing to note French supermarkets do NOT give you bags for your shopping!  There will be bags you can buy but no cardboard boxes.  You need to be aware of this if you go shopping as soon as you get off the plane!  It can give you quite a shock if you are not aware of this.


Opening hours are not as they are in the UK.  There are no 24 hour openings and most will close at 7pm or 8pm at the latest.  They may open for a couple of hours on Sunday morning but no more.  And smaller supermarkets close for lunch, for at least 1 hour and often 2.  

Bread shops stay open till 1pm or 1.30pm and then they close, not reopening until 4pm.  They may not wrap the bread, especially the long baguettes, which folk carry home under their arm.  They may wrap a paper round the centre of the long loaf but that's usually all you get.

Patisseries will be open on Sunday mornings and many town have one which stays open all Sunday afternoon so families can enjoy a Sunday afternoon gouter, tea or coffee and a delicious (and expensive) cake.



All small shops close for at least 1 hour at lunch time but stay open till 7pm or so.  I think that's the reason why events in the evening don't usually start till 8pm or later.  Most people don't finish work till 7pm so can't get there any sooner.