The Banque.

Pronounced Bonk, although nothing to do with that pronunciation in English. I only ever wonder about why I bothered in the first place. Banks and Money are so much more interesting. And I never did gain one single schilling on that front.

So, I turned up at The Bank yesterday morning in a state of nervous hysteria, having got no where on the phone. French Banks do not do nice things to you if you write cheques that you can’t cover, even if you have loads of money in other accounts. You have to sort that. But then neither do I like owing money that I can’t pay immediately. I wouldn’t like it if someone owed me 4,500 Euros. Fair is fair after all.

I was treated with instant kindness and good manners of which I have become accustomed over the years. The whole thing took about ten minutes. Merci Beaucoup, Madame

My Bank Manager hasn’t gone to Reunion so God knows how I got that idea, but they all talk so fast. Michael was there, albeit looking a bit older than on the last occasion that we met, but then so do I. I have known him for so long now and such a nice man he is. I was probably his first English client when The Banque Populaire first came to Baud. He took the time to listen to me when I was having a problem elsewhere and he sorted it for me. Actually, I was a bit pissed at the time although largely to do with stress. And at least I remember being a bit pissed. Such a long time ago.

Robin Dominic says that I will have to get used to Internet Banking. No chance. I’m not having that. They will have to see me out first.

Ms. Jégart of The Excellent Doors will now be paid on demand. And I expect to get a Dog Flap shortly. This is how life works here.

In the meantime, O’Connor is confused. He doesn’t know if he will be locked in or out. Poor little soul. But only one really big pee in the passage by the closed back door last night. Who knows. This could sort his problem. I always have said that the dear little pisser doesn’t understand. Mad or what? I wouldn’t swap him for anything at all. Such joy of life is not to be discarded. Keep it while you can.

Glory Be.

My two new doors have arrived with less than a day’s notice. But you don’t say No to that when you have begun to think that they never will. It has been a year since I ordered them and that alone was traumatic enough. Robin Dominic and I do not always agree on what I want and in a foreign language to boot. Poor Ms. Jégart probably thinks that we are both mad.

But they are bloody lovely and exactly what I wanted. No more chipped paint and no more falling off putty. And the top window opens separately, so no more Wisteria Leaves blowing into my next door kitchen, well, not quite so many anyway.

The Dog Flap hasn’t arrived yet for my passage door, but this was a good thing as I haven’t got The Bill yet and my Bank Manager appears to have bogged off to Reunion. At least, I think that’s what she said. And you don’t keep 4,500 Euros lurking in your Current Account for a year doing nothing. My Bank Manager is such a nice man who I get to see when ever I want to. Providing he isn’t in Reunion of course.

Teaching O’Connor how to get in and out will have to wait for a minute, but stupid he is not. Fortunately Summer is approaching as the door will have to stay open for now. O’Connor likes to go out in the middle of the night to bark at shadows and dig for Badgers. Bugger the neighbours but house walls are thick around here. And who knows, the ghastly dog might even do a pee while he is out there

The workmanship as on the last occasions is superb as is the installation. Perfectly neat and tidy and both doors look as though they have always been there. No mean feat in a very old house that I so desperately don’t want spoil.

This new joy will clear away the cobwebs of Covid Anxiety and keep me going for a while yet.

Long Live Life.