July 15, 2015
Someone boasted to me a few weeks ago that they lived in a "medieval" house. I have yet to see its inside, but I was in a medieval house last night.
The house is where my friend Chantal, the maker of fine embroideries, lives. I have been on the ground floor, where she displays her work, often. However, I never had reason to go to the upper floors until she invited me to dinner on Bastille Day.
If you have ever seen pictures of medieval illuminated manuscripts, you may have seen images of medieval houses out of the top window of which beautiful maids perch. Indeed, Chantal's house is of this type: there are three floors built around a square court yard. There is a balcony on the second floor and on the top floor a large outdoor terrace which looks both down to the courtyard but also over the adjoining rooftops and beyond to La Montagne Noir. It is a small space with no enfilade --no suite of rooms, aligned one after the other-- Chantal's bed, on the top floor, in the corner, faces the kitchen sink and oven. Beyond the kitchen there is seating area with two small sofas facing each other and a door to the terrace following. Once on the terrace it is possible to see the bell tower of the marie to the right and the mountains directly in front, the neighbor's wall in back.
That wall has three windows, two of which used to be closed off by plaster, but recently re-opened, to Chantal's chagrin. Her neighbors can now, should they choose, see Chantal moving about. The reopening of the windows in a historic structure ought to have been permitted, but of course, it was not, giving Chantal the right to question the re-opening.
However, what the placement of the windows suggests is how little privacy there was in the medieval world and how easy it would be for neighbors living alongside each other to know everything about the other's activities. Perhaps for this reason, gardens were enshrined as places of courtship, as in them it was possible to hide away from prying eyes.
Earlier in the day I saw the house of Claire, a Belgian woman whose home in Caunes is a the combination of two already large houses, also of ancient date. In joining the two houses, Claire's architect and builder created space for a tiny bathing pool and a garden that encircles it. This entirely private space could never be guessed at from the outside of the house, which is plain. Mount the front stairs, however, and the visitor is in another world, one welcoming to guests. The table in the kitchen is set for at least a dozen and bedrooms spill out from the sides of the two houses. It is the garden and pool, however, that offer that perfect seclusion, seclusion unguessed at by the uninvited world outside.
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On my own turf, I have just received news that the basement of the house --the cave and garage-- as well as the attic-- are infested with capricornes.
Capricornes are insects whose larvae eat wood. After getting a list of names of companies that treat wood in houses against insects, I arranged a visit from the one with the best website and most responsive office. Two young fellows of Portuguese descent came by, spent 30 minutes examining the basement and the attic and informed me that I was in danger of loosing the supports of the ground floor and the roof to capricornes.
I actually thought I was having them come to tell me about whether I needed to spray against xylophages, another wood-eating insect. The former owners had told me they sprayed against them and that the wood needed to be treated every three years. Which is why my new Portuguese friends came over.
The news has not thrilled me, but it is a lot cheaper to stop the damage now than to pay for a new roof or floor support, let alone endure the dust and mess such a major renovation would entail. I asked around about whether it was necessary to spray and everyone told me that there was no requirement to do so unless I had an infestation, which I didn't think I had.
Though looking over the papers supplied by the sellers at the time we signed the contract of sale, it is clear that they highlighted that there were some issues about capricornes, even though they had treated the wood. The wood was treated at the time they put the house on the market, seven years ago.
The house went unsold for four years, in which time the original spraying lost its potency, and the bugs gained in strength, the problem left for me to address. If I were more able in matters concerning houses, I might have grasped that once I took possession I would have been wise to have the wood treated, but better late than never.
The treatment is guaranteed for ten years, yearly inspections are included in the fee, and there is even insurance against bankruptcy of the company, such that another specialist in treating wood would stand in the shoes of the company I will hire and fulfill the terms of the guarantee.
The treatment of the wood is done with "bio" ingredients which leave no smell, and takes, at most a week. Beau and I can continue to live in the house during the treatment of the wood, which will take seven days to penetrate fully.
Whether the capricornes will effect my planned renovations to the attic remains to be seen.
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