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Living in France

December 15, 2010
20:10 PM

Two weeks ago we had a call from the EDF the French version of the ESB to tell us that they were putting up their charges next year.
Because of this they wanted to send an expert around to see us to see how we might be able to economise on our bill so the impact wouldn’t be too hard.

We agreed- at least Síle did -I was hauled along.

Last week M Le Expert arrived , he went through our house thoroughly.
He highly approved of our Godin and its efficiency, approved of our good attic insulation, dissed our heating system for the bedrooms (but not too vehemently) but was totally horrified by the way we heated our water.
As well he might be.

M. the local plumber insisted that to have sufficient hot water for five bathrooms and a kitchen sink we should have three large hot water tanks with immersion heaters. (which, in France, are, rather romantically called cumuluses (cumuli ?)
I remember at the time these were installed that I protested strongly to the plumber, “Surely ” I said “it must be now possible nowadays to have a system like the one we had in Ireland which heats the water only on demand and does not require ANY cumuli”
(We had changed our system to one such in Ireland about 15 years ago with enormous savings on our bills)
“A system like that” said the plumber “does not exist in France”
So I ended up with three electricity guzzling cumuli.

Back to M. le Expert.
Having said several “O la la la la ‘s ” over our method of heating our water he suggested that we…. you have guessed it… install a system which heated only as required. “This will ” M. Le Expert assured us “Reduce your bills by about €70.00 each time”

Furthermore the EDF would be prepared to give us a loan, interest free, over 5 years to cover the cost and the French Government (to honour their signing of the Kyoto agreement) would pay for 50% or the installation costs.

He was preaching to the converted- this one was a no-brainer to us.

We signed on the dotted line.
Well we signed on several dotted lines.

Anything that involves the state in France requires a small Brazilian forest of paper and a case load of biros before you have finished.
By the time we got to the end we had all become firm friends.

M. told us he thought our kitchen very beautiful, he stroked the Kilkenny marble with sensual pleasure , he admired the limed oak floor.
He became a fan.
Eventually we had signed all we should, M. had copies of everything concerned with our lives- our passports, our bank account numbers, Síle’s maiden name and M. (a trifle reluctantly I felt- he now loved us dearly) departed.

As he walked down the road I said to Síle “There goes the future Martin Dwyer, with that information he can easily steal my identity”

But no.
Two days later M. le Expert was back.

There was a problem, he needed more information, he needed a copy of our marriage certificate to prove that Síle Dwyer was once Síle Ronayne.

(We both felt he could have easily have done this on the phone… but no…like a moth to a flame…)

I was sent off to the office for another round of searching, and copying.
Within two minutes he had established with Síle that we were on the point of giving a dinner party.
Immediately he must know what we were to serve.
There followed a long conversation on the appropriateness of our serving choices.
He reluctantly agreed, ultimately, that our choices were sound.
Then he enquired (I joke not ) as to what salt we used.
Síle let him taste our Malden Sea Salt.
M. was in love- he eventually left with about 50 cards for the B&B , the marriage certificate, a box of Malden and a promise from us to bring him back another from Ireland over Christmas.

We live in France now.

Comments

  1. Petra

    on December 17, 2010

    It really warms the heart, so it does! (not just the water)

  2. sean courtney

    on January 12, 2011

    great story. have just been getting a taste of your blog. looking forward to more stories. not exactly A Year in Provence, though!

The comments are closed.


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