Yesterday we started digging out old slates from the outhouses. It would appear that when a previous owner of the barn saw that the roof was caving in, they stripped the slate off and dumped it in the outhouses that had already lost their roofs. Then they put tin on the roof of the barn. It being lighter has just prolonged its life rather than sorted the problem. We were wondering where the old slate went? Now we know. Lord knows how long it has been there but we have dug up a couple of ton already and not finished yet.
We had to get to the Mayor’s (the Bear) office in the afternoon to go through some permissions and an inquisition. Just as we were going to leave one of our neighbours called by, an old Frenchman with an old dog, he kept us chatting for a while and gave us some very useful contacts and information.
Dashed back to the apartment, cleaned up, put on a shirt, drove to the Marie, via a skip to get shot of a stump, and wandered into the Bear’s office. Having planned the conversation the first thing he said was “ so what do you plan to do with the property?”
Now we have a bunch of forms to fill in to get permission to replace the roof. The Bear however mellowed and even cracked a couple of jokes that we recognised; we laughed in the right places; and now we appear to be friends. In the end he was also quite helpful.
Tomorrow more digging up slate. Yipee!!!