Hello Dear Reader,
I'll start with the shower! French showers do not have an adjustable height or water flow like at home. It's either hand held or cascading from above at a force to remove the hair from your head.
I was shaving my legs so had shower on some kind of holder reminiscent of the cradle that held a 1940s telephone receiver. I didn't know whether to wash or to ask for Poirot! So, I'm hovering on one leg, the resting other on aforementioned telephone holder, covered in soap.
Next, a crash and like they say, it came off in my hand. The water, with force enough to blow a hole in the ceiling is forcing its way out of the shower and down the street.
Naughty DB suggested some super glue, keep quiet and wash when we get home. He was only joking and we did the right thing and called the management company about 'la douche' which was well and truly 'en panne'!
Two very nice ladies turned up and with bad French and bad English called a plumber and I'm sure they think I had my leg up the wall tidying my lady garden. Whatever, we don't want these sophisticated little French ladies thinking we English have tatty minges so I didn't disagree.
Never fear, ablutions were taken care of with buckets, sponges and leg at a time in the sink.
This afternoon we took a slow and humid bike ride to 'les alignments'. I could go into detail but look up megaliths at Carnac in Brittany and you'll get far more details than I could give you.
If you look at my Instagram page, there's a small video.
Tomorrow the plumber arrives. That'll be expensive. Yes, I broke it so I have to pay for it. Wonder if I can get a plumber selfie for the scrapbook?
Should I have listened to DB?
What's a bit of sweat any way?
Until tomorrow,
Froogs xxxxx