Zinc roof

Nearly weather tight. Yesterday 10 guys on site. Disappointing that the site today, was like a set for the film 'Marie Celeste'. No silverware on the table, just two plastic cups and half a baguette. Tools lying abandoned on the floor. Maybe they've been kidnapped by aliens? The Client assures me that NOBODY is kidnapped by aliens in France. 'That sort of thing' she assures me, 'NEVER happens here'.

Front windows

Insulation and wood will hide the bricks and the shiny 'pré-cadre'. In theory the last of the windows - the large garden window will arrive next week. Then we will be watertight and the real fun can start with electrics, plumbing, dry walling and of course the steel stair installation.

Benoit Pimont

Brassica oleracea

The Builders (masons) were getting towards the end of their work and things were starting to get a bit fraught on site. Jobs were hurried along and tempers were frayed. As one says in French, I shouted at them like rotten fish. In return for which I was presented with a cabbage; not as you might expect, another strange expression translated directly from the French, but a real live Brassica oleracea - feeling humble and undeserving I accepted the spherical peace offering. The cabbage was from the garden of the mason, somewhere in the outer suburbs. Freshly picked (harvested, uprooted?) that morning.
With butter and black pepper, that evening, it was the best cabbage I'd eaten in a long time. Things are going better now. The windows have arrived, the drains are going in, the roof is advancing, the garden wall was started this morning. Mind you, there's quite a lot of wind to deal with.

A house on the shore

Architects draw lines for a living.

Two of the lines drawn in the Maison Camy are etched into the concrete at specific heights above mean sea level. They are flood levels from the nearby river. These lines are my personal benchmarks for measuring the effect of global warming on people. I am not alone. Other people are drawing similar lines.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a house on the shore?

Meanwhile, back on site, rain stops play, or at least slows it down a little.

Topping out

The carpenter tells of a tradition where one of the highest rafters is left at its uncut length. If the client doesn’t pay for a round of drinks at the end of the job then the carpenter leaves the site, with the offending timber still left protruding. In other words, sort it out yourself before the roofer turns up. The mason has an equivalent anecdote involving a heap of concrete strategically left to harden on the threshold.

So with a pre-emptive strike, The Client and The Architect have opted for a barbecue and a topping out ceremony.

The far less conflict inducing topping out formula, as understood by The Architect, involves a branch of oak being tied to the topmost timber. The ‘bad spirits’ are chased, by all the noise and raucousness of the celebration, up through the house taking ultimate refuge in the branch. At the end of the ceremony the branch is taken down and burnt leaving the house free of bad vibes.

Problem is, finding an oak tree in a suburban neighbourhood. People aren’t stupid. They don’t plant oak trees in small gardens. So a visit to the local park is in order. Unfortunately the only specimen to be found has been severely pruned leaving the lowest branches unattainable at 5metres above ground level. Notwithstanding the risk of finding himself spending the night in a police cell for tree molesting, the chances of succeeding in persuading the park groundsman to help out with a ladder on the basis of a desperate need of oak for a pagan druid ceremony seemed so very slim that The Architect didn’t even bother.

Meanwhile The Portuguese Neighbour had undertaken to prepare the food for the evening. Panic had set in and with less than an hour to go he was still cooking. An ambitious ‘pièce montée’ in the shape of the 'Maison Camy' was resisting all attempts to stick on the roof with caramel glue. Jam render and crystallised sugar pebble dash were applied to the roof successfully hiding a large gaping crack in the biscuit pastry structure. In the midst of this culinary construction site, The Architect explained his quest for oak only to be told authoritatively that identical results could be achieved with a branch of laurel – apparently the tree of choice for such matters in Portugal. Saved. The wisely chosen Portuguese theme had come to the rescue.

Fearing unknown negative spell effects from a badly identified tree shrub or bush (oak’s an easy one) The Architect opted for the joker and placed a call to The Landscape Architect who obligingly returned home to prune a bunch from her garden.

Later that evening, everyone, and especially The Skater, took great delight in pointing out to The Architect the presence of a 12 foot high laurel at the bottom of the 'Maison Camy' garden – curiously the only plant on site to survive The Builders blitzkrieg style demolition.

Shame on The Architect.

All went well – food included:

• Vinho Verde
• acras de morue
• barbecued marinated sardines
• Pork ribs
• Lupin seeds
• Olives
• Various cakes including a Maison Camy shaped choux pastry gateaux

  

  

The neighbours and builders and family and friends succeeded in raising the noise level needed.
The Maison Camy is now well and truly celebrated.

Le charpentier raconte la tradition de laisser un des bois de charpente du faîtage en dépassement du volume de la toiture. Si, à la fin de l’intervention du charpentier, le maître d’ouvrage n’as pas encore payé à boire aux ouvriers il quitte le chantier sans tailler le bois aux mesures de la maison. Le maçon à son tour, pour les mêmes motifs de soif, prévoit un tas de béton sur le seuil de la maison.

Nous avons opté pour une solution moins conflictuelle. Une branche de laurier est accrochée au point le plus haut de la charpente. Les mauvais esprits en fuyant le bruit des célébrations vers le haut de la maison se trouvent piégés dans la branche. A la fin des célébrations la branche est brûlée n’assurant que des bonnes vibrations au lieu.

Un grand remerciement aux voisins, amis et constructeurs qui ont participé à l’événement.

Squeaky clean for the chippies

Topping out

The masonry is practically finished with only the last lift of the textured concrete wall remaining to be done. The main timber rafters as well as the secondary timbers have arrived on site. All is ready for the roof to go up. This is good news as a topping out ceremony has been organised and it would have been slightly embarrassing not to have a top to top out.

In France the event is celebrated with a 'gigot bitume' which consists of cooking a large joint of lamb (please forgive The Architect any technical errors concerning meat as he is vegetarian) by immersing it in a cauldron of hot asphalt. The result (according to carnivores having partaken) is quite surprisingly good and does not taste, as one would expect, of asphalt. The water and airtight nature of the cooking process means that all the 'jus de cuisson' are sealed in keeping a maximum of the flavour.

Our roof is in zinc so there is no cauldron of steaming asphalt to do the job. As a substitute a selection of 'amuse geules' on a Portuguese theme will do the trick.

Et voila, pour les lecteurs français, on annonce le fin des Gros Oeuvres avec le début de la pose de la charpente bois de la toiture. Un gigot bitume (sans gigot et sans bitume) est en cours d'organisation pour marquer l'occasion.