original state

the old, original French house nextdoor - `dans son jus`

`dans son jus` - said of something that remains in it`s original state and having undergone no restoration

( Se dit de quelque chose d'ancien qui a été conservé en l'état, qui n'a pas subi de restauration. )

It is a phrase often applied to secondhand ads or items found at the local brocante (flee market). `Dans son jus` - literally `in it`s juice` could be applied to an old, unrenovated house as well as an antique pot, for example.

The second house we unintentionally acquired was attached to our barn `soon-to-be home`. Due to ancient property land laws that override any current planning permission - namely `le code civil` - we were in a quiet dispute with neighbours who claimed we did not have the right to add windows to a certain side of the barn ( the two foot thick stone walls already having been partialy demolished and windows ,assumed legal, subsequently inserted). These windows looked onto the grounds of their property..

Article 675 of the civil code:

Article 675

Création Loi 1804-01-31 promulguée le 10 février 1804

L'un des voisins ne peut, sans le consentement de l'autre, pratiquer dans le mur mitoyen aucune fenêtre ou ouverture, en quelque manière que ce soit, même à verre dormant.

One neighbour cannot, without the consent of the other, insert a window or door opening of any sort (even if opaque), in a common wall.

We realised the only way to resolve the problem would be to acquire this other said, uninhabited, property.

How logical..

We agreed to meet to discuss purchasing. Seated round the table of the very dark and damp front room with the owners, a Monsieur et Madame Lamarque, after certain pleasanteries we got down to business.. M. Lamarque stood up, took a large breathe and pronounced, as if passing sentence, in a heavy French accent:

`vwin handred sousend eurrr-oz!`*

Awkward silence followed by some vague plaisanteries then feet shuffling and scuffing of chairs - we politely said our au revoirs`s - and that we`d be in touch. Several weeks - indeed several months later, the purchase was agreed.

and the sum vastly reduced.

So the 18th century, crumbly, old house - filled with antiquity, mildew stained, ink-written accountancy ledgers, cast iron beds with stripe-ticking, straw-filled mattresses and candlesticks -

became ours.. What a delight!

I took these photographs using a DSLR ahrough the viewfinder of a vintage Kodak Duaflex

delightfully simple cardboard chessboard and candlestick...

Germans had occupied the house during the war - our village was right on the demarcation line. We had already found a fragmented rusty Jerry helmet in the straw stable. I can easily imagine these soldiers knew very little of what was truely going on as they stationed in this sleepy little hamlet in the South West..

handprinted original `toile de jouy` fabric screen..

So from here began the `tri` ( sorting out) of what not to keep and what to preciously hang on to for years and years and never truely having any use for any of it. I am class expert of this craft hence the reason my husband has virtually banned me from all the region`s local brocantes. He would gladly, always, burn it all.

On occasion he has succeeded..

I have kept, for fourteen years, an afghan bed from this original house. Monsieur Lamarque was a professor in Arabic studies. The afghan bed artfully woven in jute rope is was very beautiful. The fact that it was excrutiaingly uncomfortable and sagged in the middle was irrelevant. It has followed us everywhere, upon my insistence. It `s been sitting out in the endless rain for sometime.. *

As for the accountancy ledger - this has graced many photo shoots. The perfection with which the records were inserted - calligraphy still learned from nursery school upwards. The pride taken in scribing perfectly curled profit and losses.. painfully beautiful...

All my treasured bits of fusty frenchness end up in my workshop. The screen has peeling bits of wallpaper and rusty nails and falling-off bits - you do understand why I love it so.. it currently is sitting behind my makeshift desk - an old, delightfully worn out door with washed-out grey paint and more, obligatory, rusty nails.

I collect doors - another eyeroll from husband.. I love these doors and no -one will ever convince me to part with them. I plan on writing a post solely devoted to my doors..

*since writing this, said Afghan bed has met it `s firey end..

à la prochaine..