Guillhaume needed to come with me to Leroy Merlin to order the kitchen – Monsieur Larressat was taking no chance with my French and was very keen to redeem some ground here. Guillhaume, as I mentioned, is a pelote whiz and a sight for any girl’s eyes. At we drove at break neck speed through the back lanes he told me of his recent visit to Sydney to meet up with his girlfriend who had taken a year out and who was travelling around until she resumed her master’s course. Next stop for her was Thailand and then Laos and Cambodia and back into France mid July. From there she would be going north back to university – ‘At least it’s in the same country’ I said cheerily before he braked for a troupeau de brebis – a large flock of sheep.
Leroy Merlin is the equivalent of B&Q or any one of those massive DIY outlets. As we went through the door along with hundreds of people with entire families in tow, Guillhaume stated softely that he had never visited a place like this. I thought that’s where builders lived when not on a job. So I asked him where most clients got there kitchens from. ‘We make them for them’ said the carpenter of 6 years training before joining the Larrassat enterprise. ‘Well not this one’ I muttered and off we went.
Guillhaume then proved himself to be as stunning a businessman as he is a body and soul. The cost of the kitchen came to just under 6250 euros – but my previous December estimate for the same goods with no price changes came in at 132 euros less. We did not move from our chairs until, quietly and firmly, Guillhaume got the computer calculator to recalculate the new estimate to within 13 euros of the original price; then 9 euros and he finally gave in at 4 euros of the original estimate. I felt very reassured, thinking to myself that if he was that persistent at Leroy Merlin, I felt absolutely sure he was going to be that diligent when it came to all other costs apportioned to my property.
We gossiped all the way back to Sauveterre from Bayonne with Guillhaume telling me about his expertise at restoring ancient carts for no particular purpose, in between competing in the national French pelote competitions and using his carpentry skills at weekends to build bookcases and so on which often didn’t reach completion because of the pressure of his 12 hour day Monday to Friday. He’s another one that thinks too many young people are not prepared to work hard enough, too many unemployed in France and too generous a benefit system that drains enthusiasm from the youths who are lazy enough in the first place, says he. Still that’s the way it is in France at the moment during the heat of the election campaigns – if it’s not those immigrants that are to blame, it’s the lazy youth, the punitive cost to employers to keep their employees in jobs, and a social security system that doles out money willy nilly to just about anyone – or so I keep being told.
Next day and at 11 am prompt we were at Larressat’s bureau. In spite of more than four decades in the business, no fancy office front for this builder. Brick outhouses, a huge Godin wood burning stove, one computer and from this hub, six or seven houses on the go at the same time. From there we went together to the tile factory and it was fabulous. All the tiles are made on site from local materials, glazed and painted not a hundred metres from where the materials arrive in a raw state. The factory was hugely reminiscent of a Wallace and Grommit set up, but the product at the end was undoubtedly terrific in terms of design and quality. At between 40 and 60 euros a metre square – I think not. But then Monsieur Larressat said – let’s look at the deuxieme choix – or seconds. At just slightly less and more interesting because of the blemishes, I felt we could be in business. There were piles and piles of seconds and a massive range of choice, this was going to be a tricky one and my remaining time in France was pressing.
Lunch was at a local auberge. We sat down at 12.15 and left two hours later. It’s fair to say that the service was extremely slow and the place extremely popular. But who cared, we chatted on – mostly about France’s traditional unwillingness to accept and adopt change. We breezed on to the imminent elections and how Le Pen would probably pick up too many floating votes from the disaffected who just want to vote for him to be bloody minded – all that came from Monsieur Larressat who has worked his own business of restoring houses for 42 years and had never had a day when work didn’t come through the door. All these points he made were punctuated with a stabbing right hand which was a bit unnerving because it only carried a thumb and a little finger – the others having been lost at an early age during an accident with a chainsaw. Still, two bottles of fine Graves later we didn’t mind the fact that food was not materialising – not a drunken two hours, but a polite just put it away French style wine quaffing. Food was good and the world had been solved of all its problems and Monsieur Larressat said how nice it was to do business in a relaxed way. Oh yes, the downstairs will be finished by mid June and the rest of the house by the end of July – now we’re getting somewhere.
Bit of a disappointment when I reached the house in Oraas. I snuck in early on my own on my way down from staying with three mad lads in Gers. Plenty of late night drinking and much laughing and some gardening were done, but now was the time to get a grip of my house. So on my way in from Marsiac, I went to the house on my own at 6 pm as the sun was still hot and the air still, and it looked like something out of the Clampits. Clearly there was not much evidence of work having been done over the previous three weeks, there was wood and tools everywhere, covering the garden and spilling out of the sheds and garage. Time to get a grip here.
A RV (rendezvous to you and me) was to take place at 10 am the morning after I arrived. I said nothing to Rick and Mol and dutifully, we went to the house for the10 am RV to meet Monsieur Larressat and his sidekick Guillhaume and Monsieur Gain. Overnight there had been a transition – everything was really neat, though no building had taken place sadly.
The site visit sorted out a few wrinkles when it came to door replacements and wiring issues and there was a slightly stern reminder from me that the house was supposed to be finished by the end of May. Monsieur Larressat’s face fell and he recognised that he was caught with his pants, if not down, at least unfashionably low from the waist for a man of his age.
“What we need to do it to get on with it. We will start back on Tuesday. We’ve been waiting for the plasterer in my team to finish another job”. Lots of ‘aaaah Oui….. aaaah Oui’ followed. He then suggested that it would be a very good idea if he took the three of us to lunch the next day and after that, I could go with Guillhaume to Bayonne to order the kitchen which had failed to happen, even though the job was marked down for two months earlier. “No worries” we chorused “lunch it is and yes, we’ll come and see your mate’s handmade tile factory beforehand” with me thinking to myself, fat chance on that front – handmade tiles indeed.
