August Exile - the flat

[Still a scheduled post. But we're getting much closer to real-time updates now. Since that was Saturday and I'm actually writing this brackety bit on Monday. You'll miss them when they're gone...]

The August Exile Flat is actually beautiful. It’s a small studio right in the heart of Nice, near the station and all the shops, immaculately decorated in white and soft greys and with an enormous west-facing terrace – almost doubling the size of the flat – which gets full evening sunshine. I’m sitting out there now, writing this. (Although, of course, now won’t be now when you’re reading this, since there’s no internet here, as I suspected.) The terrace is shielded by flowers and bushes, the view of what’s left unblocked by foliage is of a rather pretty little church. The church is almost certain to have bells, though. Churches do that. Tomorrow may be a noisy morning, or I may find it a delightful way to wake up. Much will depend on what time I get woken up, I suspect... [ETA - Ask not for whom the bell tolls; it doesn't toll at all. Bonus!]

Coming back was lovely – the sky was blue, the sea was even bluer, and the train down from Paris goes through some beautiful countryside. The bags were still heavy, but I was glad to be back in the sunshine.

Until my landlady proceeded to tell me off because apparently the flat that I spent so long cleaning before we moved out was filthy, such that she had had to hire a cleaning lady. She and I must have very different standards of filthy – it certainly looked clean to me, although I will admit that I didn’t move the cooker to clean behind and underneath it, nor did I chemically or otherwise clean the oven or microwave, since we were only going to be away a month, and she told me they didn’t do any cooking in that flat anyway. I did forget to clean out the fridge, though I did empty it. I cannot see how remedying that can possibly have taken her cleaning lady 4 hours, but I did offer to pay – she didn’t accept, but nor did she outright refuse it, she just kind of pretended I hadn’t said anything. Each time I made the offer. I’m going to take that as a no.

I’m also going to hire this cleaning lady when we finally move out, since my own standards of cleanliness are apparently so low. It will save me hours, and I know she can work to the standard the landlady apparently requires. Whatever that actually is.

Amusingly, she waited til Paul wasn’t around before broaching the subject, then when she did refer to it in his hearing, it was just as a “small misunderstanding” - clearly not something the men should be bothered with. Just me the slob, then... Welcome back to Nice, aren’t you glad to be here?

Actually, yes – this really is a lovely view, and it’s so warm. And did I mention the sun? I am glad to be back, OCD cleanliness or not.

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