Vintage issues

The building we live in is called the Moderne Cessole. It’s on the corner of a street called Boulevard Cessole, but there’s nothing Moderne about it. The toilet flush came off in my hand yesterday. The plumber who came today said the rubber bit required to make it all work is ancienne and can only be found in Cannes. He’s apparently fixed the Cumulus, too – the water heater in the bathroom. It’s been leaking at night, and only the bowl of our rice cooker would fit into the space the water was leaking into… anyway, boring enough, but it meant I was a prisoner in the studio until the plumber arrived, so I wrote nearly 1,500 words!

The dog laundry

Before going down to the restaurant to pick up Joel, I did some laundry at a laundromat nearby. I’m taken with the money machine there. I can understand the pricing structure for the various sizes, and for the dryer. But do they mean 10 euros for washing your dog? I had a conversation there last week with a woman who seemed reasonable initially, but she insisted it would be cruel to put your dog in a washing machine for 20minutes, even for the bargain price of 10 euros. She was either s humour-free type, or she was teasing me and I didn’t realize it, because Joel and I have since decided the sign refers to stuffed toys.

When I got to the restaurant, my mother-in-law Denise was still there, having been watching the world go by since lunchtime. I chatted with her till she went home, then somehow got involved in a conversation about the masculinity or femininity of the word for orchid with two regulars who had stopped in for a late-afternoon/early-evening aperitif. I can’t wait for the day when I don’t make stupid mistakes and can find the word I want when I want it. I feel like I’ve had one hand cut off at the elbow because I can’t say what I think when I think it. Still, this will pass eventually. I’ve told Joel I intend to speak better French than he does one day – he says that won’t be too hard…

The customer I was talking to has a sister who is an etymologist, as well as a professor of Greek. Hope she comes to the restaurant one day soon – it will be like speaking to a therapist…

On the way home, Joel and I found a chair for Ted in a pile left out for the garbagemen. Too dark to take a pic today, but it’s a proper Vincent Van Gogh chair. He needs a place to sit on the balcony so he can look over the railing. It’s been pretty cool here at night, so he’s happy to cosy up indoors.

Ted sleeping


About Suellen Grealy

In 2011, a series of coincidences led my husband Joel, our cat Ted and me away from London, where we lived quite happily for 30 years, to Nice, where Joel grew up. While he and his sister ran their restaurant, I wrote a novel. Family being family, Joel and his sister no longer work together. Writing being writing, the novel lingers on... Meanwhile, we've found ways of living a completely different life from the one we had in London, including running our own restaurant together, 7 Villermont. The only constants are our Ted, our now-battered Peugeot, and each other. Everything else is a complete surprise
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2 Responses to Vintage issues

  1. Alicia says:

    Vicariously enjoying all your new experiences. Looking forward to any additional information on the characters in your building. By the way, the woman I did a house swap with in Italy has a flat in Nice as well. I will get more information, perhaps you can meet her when she comes to town. Hugs to you both!

  2. Isabella Corble says:

    OMG!!! You put darling Ted through the dog washing machine.

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