Now we were five, and life in our own little commune within a commune went happily on for a few more days. By night, we rigged up our makeshift sheet/projector cinema, watched
great films (The Boat That Rocked, Zeitgeist) and drank local vin rouge
and peppermint tea.
Unable to leave until the key part (top bearing and balls for our dodgy steering column) and tool (drop-arm remover) arrived from the UK, we merry little band busied ourselves with mountain walks, markets, work - easy with the joys of Ed's high-speed wifi - tree-climbing, accidental tree-hugging, and baking.
I'm usually far from queen of the kitchen - just ask any of my ex-housemates - but I was inspired and (ahem) egged on by Ali to bake my first ever loaf of bread. It turned out a little heavy but still received a chorus of oohs and aahs. Feeling increasingly domestic-goddess-like, Suze and I took a leaf out of Nigella's book and made
her hot cross buns to the letter. It was Good Friday after all. Definitely not a recipe for the impatient, but we were time-rich. They turned out grand - but only for one day. As we'd doubled the recipe, we had 32 to get rid of so we trotted round to the neighbours with a steaming plateful. There we found Claude shoeing his horses with the local blacksmith, and Jacky returning to the house with pockets bulging with fresh warm eggs from the coop. Ah, country life doesn't get better than this.
One lunchtime, nibbling brie, chutney and salads on the suntrap balcony, we wondered if the elusive package was ever going to arrive, and if we were ever going to leave - and leave poor Ali and Ed to their nesting in blissful peace. At that very moment, a red-faced postie called to us from the terrace round the corner for "un signature" and suddenly the end of our country idyll living was nigh.
Huw called Oliver, a fellow 101 owner who lived just an hour away, who had, way above and beyond, offered his time, workshop, tools and expertise to help replace the steering bearing. Perhaps it's the quirkiness of the vehicle, perhaps it's the love of raw gritty old-school mechanics. But it seems owning a 101 turns you into some altruistic godlike being, willing to do anything to help another one in need. I'm not sure when our turn will come to help others as we've been helped, but I hope it does some day.
