November 13th 2008
Aren’t men funny creatures? Why can’t they just tell the truth? Case in point: last night Iain says he and Brian, our lovely bro-in-law who is staying at the moment to work on the house, are popping over to a friend’s empty apartment half an hour away by the coast to measure up for some work that needs doing. They’ve been working all day here and I thought, ahh how conscientious to be bothered to show up after such a long day. Suspicions were aroused when they both came downstairs reeking of aftershave, freshly showered and spruced up, Brian with his hair gelled, in a white linen shirt (you wear white at your peril here at the mo) jeans and loafers and Iain looking no less dressed up than if we were heading out for supper.
Me: What time will you be back?
Him: Dunno, later.
Me: Are you coming straight back or going for a drink after? (I didn’t mind, honest)
Him: Weeellllll, we are popping out for a pint to watch Mike (our plasterer) practise with his band.
Me: Hmmm where is he playing?
Him: Well he’s only practising in the downstairs room at Sullivans (a lively little open-all-hours pub in Mandelieu which specialises in Guinness)
Me: So if he is only practising, why does he need an audience?
Him: We are going along to give him moral support (which has to be the best excuse I’ve heard for going for a beer possibly ever.)
Ten minutes after they left, the girls and I are hunkered down on the sofa watching The Dog Whisperer when we all hear a loud scratching sound and high pitched squeaking coming from upstairs. My first thought is it’s a rat. One of the reasons we got rid of our walnut tree next to the house is because at night when you heard crunching and shone a torch up to watch the cute red squirrels having a midnight feast, what you actually saw was a big fat rat with a fleshy tail tucking in right above your head. Livvy said, I’ll go and have a look and the worst thing is, I let her! She was too scared to go upstairs and what kind of a parent am I to let her even if I do have a pathological fear of all things mouse-y and ratty. So I went up gingerly, throwing open doors one at a time like Cagney and Lacey and found Spike, our Abyssinian cat locked in Brian’s bedroom. Oh the relief.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
November 12th 2008
I have followers! To all your guys who are following and the ones who posted comments, thank you thank you thank you. I was moaning to my bro-in-law Gaz (or Saltydawg) the other night about how no-one is reading my blog and he said he'd poke me (is that the right term) on his blog and here you all are. Think one of the problems is that haven't actually told anyone I'm doing this, always going to be a problem if you want people to read it!
Anyway, Dougnut-ella comes from Donatella because my awful neighbour in Mandelieu is a poor man's version of Ms Versace, but with bad surgery and long bleached blonde hair which would look great if she was 25 but not so good on a woman knocking on the door of 60. Spent the weekend there and she was nowhere to be seen but I'm sure I haven't heard the last of her yet.
One of my journo friends in the UK emailed me to say how she is really into dressing up and wearing make up at the moment. Since I arrived here five months ago, I've probably worn high heels twice (given that I have a collection to rival Imelda Marcos, that's not good value for money) and have given up on the little make up I used to wear altogether. The heels don't work on a drive that resembles a black run, and living in a rural village in the hills of France, you look dressed up in jeans and a T shirt. It's quite liberating but I sometimes miss going off to an interview dolled up in my latest purchases.
Took the girls to the Armistice Day Parade in the village yesterday. It was very humbling, old men and women from the village wearing their medals, barely able to shuffle aong but standing proud of their contribution to the freedom we all take for granted. All the children carried red white and blue balloons to the cemetery, which sits on a cliff edge overlooking the valley. A saxophonist played, everyone sang the French national anthem The Marseillaise and then the Mayor read out the names of all those who died in the First and Second World Wars. He must have read out 30 names, just from our tiny village. The balloons were released, carrying messages of peace from the children and I'm not ashamed to admit I had a huge lump in my throat.
This afternoon, we are picking olives in the garden. We have eight trees and my Italian neighbour Rosine (who is the pole opposite of the other heathen) has told me they are ready and not to leave it too late. Apparently I need a net to catch them all when we shake the trees and a bonbonniere to soak them in water and salt before they can be eaten. There is a local mill where you can swap your olives for the equivalent amount of locally produced olive oil, which sounds like a great idea as we will never get through them all ourselves.
I have followers! To all your guys who are following and the ones who posted comments, thank you thank you thank you. I was moaning to my bro-in-law Gaz (or Saltydawg) the other night about how no-one is reading my blog and he said he'd poke me (is that the right term) on his blog and here you all are. Think one of the problems is that haven't actually told anyone I'm doing this, always going to be a problem if you want people to read it!
Anyway, Dougnut-ella comes from Donatella because my awful neighbour in Mandelieu is a poor man's version of Ms Versace, but with bad surgery and long bleached blonde hair which would look great if she was 25 but not so good on a woman knocking on the door of 60. Spent the weekend there and she was nowhere to be seen but I'm sure I haven't heard the last of her yet.
One of my journo friends in the UK emailed me to say how she is really into dressing up and wearing make up at the moment. Since I arrived here five months ago, I've probably worn high heels twice (given that I have a collection to rival Imelda Marcos, that's not good value for money) and have given up on the little make up I used to wear altogether. The heels don't work on a drive that resembles a black run, and living in a rural village in the hills of France, you look dressed up in jeans and a T shirt. It's quite liberating but I sometimes miss going off to an interview dolled up in my latest purchases.
Took the girls to the Armistice Day Parade in the village yesterday. It was very humbling, old men and women from the village wearing their medals, barely able to shuffle aong but standing proud of their contribution to the freedom we all take for granted. All the children carried red white and blue balloons to the cemetery, which sits on a cliff edge overlooking the valley. A saxophonist played, everyone sang the French national anthem The Marseillaise and then the Mayor read out the names of all those who died in the First and Second World Wars. He must have read out 30 names, just from our tiny village. The balloons were released, carrying messages of peace from the children and I'm not ashamed to admit I had a huge lump in my throat.
This afternoon, we are picking olives in the garden. We have eight trees and my Italian neighbour Rosine (who is the pole opposite of the other heathen) has told me they are ready and not to leave it too late. Apparently I need a net to catch them all when we shake the trees and a bonbonniere to soak them in water and salt before they can be eaten. There is a local mill where you can swap your olives for the equivalent amount of locally produced olive oil, which sounds like a great idea as we will never get through them all ourselves.
Monday, November 10, 2008
November 10th 2008
Doughnut-ella next door came rushing out of the apartment and spent ten minutes screaming at me on the landing about what a bad neighbour I am, how noisy we are and rude etc etc etc. Standing next to me waving finger in my face...telling me she is going to call the police about me!She is mental, I told her so, also told her everybody in the block hates her, (well I know of at least three people who do) that I won't ever speak to her again until she can talk in a rational manner and finished off with DROP DEAD as I slammed the door in her face! The girls were doubled up with laughter behind the front door and I didn;t know whether to laugh or cry.
As we left she was on her balcony shouting into her mobile at the Garde de poste! Instead of stock cubes next time I'm asking Sarah to bring me a large bottle of ketamine!
Tomorrow is Armistice Day and it is a bank holiday in France. What a great idea, if there ever was a good reason for a bank holiday, this is it. In the village, they have a church service followed by a procession to the graveyard where all the local children release balloons in memory of the dead. Issy is keen to do it so we are going to go along, and as we haven't found anywhere to buy poppies here, it's one way of marking the day. It has made her ask questions about the past that she would never have done normally.
Doughnut-ella next door came rushing out of the apartment and spent ten minutes screaming at me on the landing about what a bad neighbour I am, how noisy we are and rude etc etc etc. Standing next to me waving finger in my face...telling me she is going to call the police about me!She is mental, I told her so, also told her everybody in the block hates her, (well I know of at least three people who do) that I won't ever speak to her again until she can talk in a rational manner and finished off with DROP DEAD as I slammed the door in her face! The girls were doubled up with laughter behind the front door and I didn;t know whether to laugh or cry.
As we left she was on her balcony shouting into her mobile at the Garde de poste! Instead of stock cubes next time I'm asking Sarah to bring me a large bottle of ketamine!
Tomorrow is Armistice Day and it is a bank holiday in France. What a great idea, if there ever was a good reason for a bank holiday, this is it. In the village, they have a church service followed by a procession to the graveyard where all the local children release balloons in memory of the dead. Issy is keen to do it so we are going to go along, and as we haven't found anywhere to buy poppies here, it's one way of marking the day. It has made her ask questions about the past that she would never have done normally.
Friday, November 7, 2008
November 7th 2008
Half term ....Livvy’s friends over from the UK, all our friends with homes here out for the holidays so a big social whirl for a week. I always look forward to these times, catching up with gossip from home and friends I don’t see from one month to the next. The only fly in the ointment has been our hideous neighbour at the apartment. She is Parisien and frankly gives Paris a bad name. She looks like an older, more surgically enhanced version of Donatella Versace (don’tella!) and has a face like a slapped arse. All she has done since she started renting is moan at us for non-existent noise, moving the furniture at the dead of night (as if) and is always sticking rude notes on our door mat.
Last week was the final straw. We left Tallulah for less than two hours to pop out for a bite and when we got back was a rude note in very bad English telling us that the dog had been barking ‘during hours’ and we are breaking the rules and next time, ‘Take it with you’ underlined. I tossed it back on her mat and went to bed, only to find back on our mat in the morning. I put it in the bin, but one of Liv’s friends retrieved it and screwed it up and left it on her mat again. When we got home we saw she had rammed it into our door frame with such force it was almost impossible to pull out. As she is such a stickler for the rules, I complained to her about all the stuff she leaves on her terrace, banked against the glass divider. It looks like Steptoe’s yard. A small victory, she moved the stuff but before I could celebrate she stuck a dead plant up there so I bought a huge eucalyptus bush which blocks it out. Cow! Am trying to train it over the glass so it throttles her!
We have had rain non-stop for a week, although we aren’t as badly affected here as the Loire and Rhone Alps which have been completely flooded. It’s made usually pleasurable activities like shopping in Cannes and go-karting with Liv’s friends very wet and miserable (for me) although they seem to have enjoyed themselves. Think the summer is well and truly over.
Apart from problems with the Prima Donna, staying here has been a welcome relief from the dust and dirt at home. Went back at the weekend and was amazed to see how much more light we get in the house and on the terraces now that three of the most overgrown tress have been cut down. The treehugger in me wasn’t sure it was the right move but there’s no doubt it has made a huge difference and finally the house we bought for the view actually has a view.
One of our friends asked what we were struggling to get out here – she always brings me the weekend supplements that are never available – but this time I requested stock cubes (the French ones are full of herbs and salt and really mask the flavours of any sauce) while Iain asked for Cadburys. Two family bars of fruit and nut and milk chocolate duly arrived with Sarah and Iain requisitioned both to take back to the house with him and him alone.
When I got up and saw them positioned on his bedside table ready to take home first thing (he’d rather forget his keys, wallet and the dog than chocolate) I quickly chucked them both in the fridge under the smoked salmon and jumped back into bed. He got up and growled, ‘where’s my chocolate?’ before turning my wardrobe and drawers upside down. I held out for about 10 minutes, pointing out that he would be sharing the stock cubes via risotto, gravy and casseroles until he compromised on leaving the milk choc here. So next time I do roast chicken, I will make sure his portion is gravy free!
Half term ....Livvy’s friends over from the UK, all our friends with homes here out for the holidays so a big social whirl for a week. I always look forward to these times, catching up with gossip from home and friends I don’t see from one month to the next. The only fly in the ointment has been our hideous neighbour at the apartment. She is Parisien and frankly gives Paris a bad name. She looks like an older, more surgically enhanced version of Donatella Versace (don’tella!) and has a face like a slapped arse. All she has done since she started renting is moan at us for non-existent noise, moving the furniture at the dead of night (as if) and is always sticking rude notes on our door mat.
Last week was the final straw. We left Tallulah for less than two hours to pop out for a bite and when we got back was a rude note in very bad English telling us that the dog had been barking ‘during hours’ and we are breaking the rules and next time, ‘Take it with you’ underlined. I tossed it back on her mat and went to bed, only to find back on our mat in the morning. I put it in the bin, but one of Liv’s friends retrieved it and screwed it up and left it on her mat again. When we got home we saw she had rammed it into our door frame with such force it was almost impossible to pull out. As she is such a stickler for the rules, I complained to her about all the stuff she leaves on her terrace, banked against the glass divider. It looks like Steptoe’s yard. A small victory, she moved the stuff but before I could celebrate she stuck a dead plant up there so I bought a huge eucalyptus bush which blocks it out. Cow! Am trying to train it over the glass so it throttles her!
We have had rain non-stop for a week, although we aren’t as badly affected here as the Loire and Rhone Alps which have been completely flooded. It’s made usually pleasurable activities like shopping in Cannes and go-karting with Liv’s friends very wet and miserable (for me) although they seem to have enjoyed themselves. Think the summer is well and truly over.
Apart from problems with the Prima Donna, staying here has been a welcome relief from the dust and dirt at home. Went back at the weekend and was amazed to see how much more light we get in the house and on the terraces now that three of the most overgrown tress have been cut down. The treehugger in me wasn’t sure it was the right move but there’s no doubt it has made a huge difference and finally the house we bought for the view actually has a view.
One of our friends asked what we were struggling to get out here – she always brings me the weekend supplements that are never available – but this time I requested stock cubes (the French ones are full of herbs and salt and really mask the flavours of any sauce) while Iain asked for Cadburys. Two family bars of fruit and nut and milk chocolate duly arrived with Sarah and Iain requisitioned both to take back to the house with him and him alone.
When I got up and saw them positioned on his bedside table ready to take home first thing (he’d rather forget his keys, wallet and the dog than chocolate) I quickly chucked them both in the fridge under the smoked salmon and jumped back into bed. He got up and growled, ‘where’s my chocolate?’ before turning my wardrobe and drawers upside down. I held out for about 10 minutes, pointing out that he would be sharing the stock cubes via risotto, gravy and casseroles until he compromised on leaving the milk choc here. So next time I do roast chicken, I will make sure his portion is gravy free!
Friday, October 24, 2008
October 24th 2008
Am staying at the apartment for the next week during half term and I have never been so keen to pack my suitcase. Usually I leave it til the last minute if I’m packing for holidays or a job abroad but this time I can’t wait to get started. Taking all the things I can’t use here at the moment like scented candles (they’d look a bit silly in a building site, apart from which there’s nowhere to put them) and bath essence (no bath here only showers). Everything is covered with a fine layer of dust, it will be lovely to feel clean again and not have to wipe or wash stuff every day.
At the moment we have one ancient two seater sofa in the house which we all have to share, everything else is wrapped in protective plastic and out of the way on the terraces. Iain reckons the really dirty work will be done in the next couple of weeks but am not holding my breath. He is staying here to oversee the work while me, the girls, Livvy’s two friends Em and Em from the UK and Oscar will be in the lap of luxury!
Issy and I were walking home this week from school and she told me what she had for lunch and said jus d’ananas, without thinking. She couldn’t remember what it was in English (pineapple juice). Then she was talking about helping the teacher in English and mentioned that the other kids had to do it toute seule (all alone). We laughed about her coming out with these random French words, it’s fantastic that she is starting to think in French. She was also mortified when I answered one of her teachers with pourquoi instead of quoi. Two months ago, she wouldn’t have known that I’d made a mistake but now she can pick me up on my rusty French.
Heard about a rather nasty creature down here which can be very dangerous. La chenille processionaire is a long caterpillar which is extremely poisonous. It lives in pine trees and gives off toxic spores which can kill a pet and blind a child. It has no predators and the only safe way to get rid of one is to douse it in petrol and set it alight. They hang in white sacks at the top of pine trees and if you spot one you need to call the pompiers right away. Have warned the girls that these caterpillars are not for bringing into the house.
Popped back to London for a couple of days to work on the new remake of Minder for Five. It stars Shane Ritchie as Arthur Daley’s nephew Archie and newcomer Lex Shrapnel as ‘minder’ Jamie. They were both on good form at a photo shoot in Spitalfields, and Shane’s agent Phil took me on a tour of the area and showed me where jack the Ripper’s first victim was found. Spooky! Have a feeling Lex is going to be a big name, he’s done a few movies and reminds me of a young Chris Ecclestone.
Am staying at the apartment for the next week during half term and I have never been so keen to pack my suitcase. Usually I leave it til the last minute if I’m packing for holidays or a job abroad but this time I can’t wait to get started. Taking all the things I can’t use here at the moment like scented candles (they’d look a bit silly in a building site, apart from which there’s nowhere to put them) and bath essence (no bath here only showers). Everything is covered with a fine layer of dust, it will be lovely to feel clean again and not have to wipe or wash stuff every day.
At the moment we have one ancient two seater sofa in the house which we all have to share, everything else is wrapped in protective plastic and out of the way on the terraces. Iain reckons the really dirty work will be done in the next couple of weeks but am not holding my breath. He is staying here to oversee the work while me, the girls, Livvy’s two friends Em and Em from the UK and Oscar will be in the lap of luxury!
Issy and I were walking home this week from school and she told me what she had for lunch and said jus d’ananas, without thinking. She couldn’t remember what it was in English (pineapple juice). Then she was talking about helping the teacher in English and mentioned that the other kids had to do it toute seule (all alone). We laughed about her coming out with these random French words, it’s fantastic that she is starting to think in French. She was also mortified when I answered one of her teachers with pourquoi instead of quoi. Two months ago, she wouldn’t have known that I’d made a mistake but now she can pick me up on my rusty French.
Heard about a rather nasty creature down here which can be very dangerous. La chenille processionaire is a long caterpillar which is extremely poisonous. It lives in pine trees and gives off toxic spores which can kill a pet and blind a child. It has no predators and the only safe way to get rid of one is to douse it in petrol and set it alight. They hang in white sacks at the top of pine trees and if you spot one you need to call the pompiers right away. Have warned the girls that these caterpillars are not for bringing into the house.
Popped back to London for a couple of days to work on the new remake of Minder for Five. It stars Shane Ritchie as Arthur Daley’s nephew Archie and newcomer Lex Shrapnel as ‘minder’ Jamie. They were both on good form at a photo shoot in Spitalfields, and Shane’s agent Phil took me on a tour of the area and showed me where jack the Ripper’s first victim was found. Spooky! Have a feeling Lex is going to be a big name, he’s done a few movies and reminds me of a young Chris Ecclestone.
Friday, October 17, 2008
October 17th 2008
I was hit by the stark reality this morning that I am earning less money than ever before. On the upside, I am also cooking more than ever before. Every time someone starts working on the electricity supply downstairs, the internet Livebox is unplugged , meaning I can’t call anyone from the landline, which is an internet phone, and can’t email or research on the web. So, unable to work, I go down to the kitchen and prepare something to eat. Yesterday it was beef lasagne (even though I don’t eat beef) and today’s effort is melanzane parmigiana (or aubergine bake).
Went out with the running club again. They are really friendly and normal, not like the freaky people you usually meet at running clubs, and my local restaurant owner David also runs with them and he is quite easy on the eye so that makes it more fun! I’m even getting up at 7am on Saturdays to go with them, most unlike me.
Have arranged to go skiing with friends for three days between Xmas and New Year to Sestriere in Italy, it’s four hours drive from here and looks amazing. We are burning through the cash which is not good when we have so much to do still but figure that can be a little Xmas pressie for all of us. Kitted the girls out today with ski gear at Decathlon, 600 euros later I still haven't got their skis or boots yet. I can feel a beans on toast month coming on very soon.
The girls are doing trick or treat in Valbonne on Hallowe'en, each with their respective friends. Am pleased they still want to do stuff like that although when Livvy described what she is planning to wear (fishnets, heels, black skirt and devil horns) I nearly wet myself. She will be jailbait but all her friends are doing the same. What happened, I thought she was 13 not 17. She told me today that she and her four best friends at Fenelon are the only ones not to be invited to another girls' Hallowe'en party because this girl says they always get all the attention from the boys and it’s her party so she wants the boys to look at her and not them! How funny, her friends are all very attractive though and witty and funny, makes me fear for the boys really and the havoc that lies ahead!
I was hit by the stark reality this morning that I am earning less money than ever before. On the upside, I am also cooking more than ever before. Every time someone starts working on the electricity supply downstairs, the internet Livebox is unplugged , meaning I can’t call anyone from the landline, which is an internet phone, and can’t email or research on the web. So, unable to work, I go down to the kitchen and prepare something to eat. Yesterday it was beef lasagne (even though I don’t eat beef) and today’s effort is melanzane parmigiana (or aubergine bake).
Went out with the running club again. They are really friendly and normal, not like the freaky people you usually meet at running clubs, and my local restaurant owner David also runs with them and he is quite easy on the eye so that makes it more fun! I’m even getting up at 7am on Saturdays to go with them, most unlike me.
Have arranged to go skiing with friends for three days between Xmas and New Year to Sestriere in Italy, it’s four hours drive from here and looks amazing. We are burning through the cash which is not good when we have so much to do still but figure that can be a little Xmas pressie for all of us. Kitted the girls out today with ski gear at Decathlon, 600 euros later I still haven't got their skis or boots yet. I can feel a beans on toast month coming on very soon.
The girls are doing trick or treat in Valbonne on Hallowe'en, each with their respective friends. Am pleased they still want to do stuff like that although when Livvy described what she is planning to wear (fishnets, heels, black skirt and devil horns) I nearly wet myself. She will be jailbait but all her friends are doing the same. What happened, I thought she was 13 not 17. She told me today that she and her four best friends at Fenelon are the only ones not to be invited to another girls' Hallowe'en party because this girl says they always get all the attention from the boys and it’s her party so she wants the boys to look at her and not them! How funny, her friends are all very attractive though and witty and funny, makes me fear for the boys really and the havoc that lies ahead!
Monday, October 13, 2008
October 13th 2008
Spent the weekend surveying mess and wondering if I should clear up but there seemed no point as the kitchen wall is coming down this week which means more chaos and dust. You might get the impression that I'm feeling sorry for myself, you would be right.
Feel a bit guilty because Brian and Iain have been working all day long taking out the old kitchen and constructing it as a makeshift in the laundry room until the new one is fitted. Men love making something out of old bits and pieces and they are really enjoying themselves but I can't shar their enthusiasm for what now looks like a botched together series of battered white units, ancient cooker and hob all in a tiny space where you can't swing a cat. Made the mistake of saying this and referring to it as a 'bodge job' which didn't go down too well.
I remember Iain leaping into action to save the hideous old kitchen units at our cottage in Hertfordshire so he could turn them into a workshop at the back of our garage. He was in his element while I was fuming that despite spending a small second mortgage on a new kitchen, I still had to look at the naff stuff we'd just replaced. In the spirit of recycling and being green, I shouldn't moan I know. At least we have ordered a new kitchen, despite the fact that we are rapidly running out of cash. It's high gloss, red and very modern, and is arriving the week before Christmas. With our usual immaculate timing, it is being fitted in three days and the granite is arriving on the day we leave to go to the UK for a pre-Xmas family visit. The kitchen guy said of course it will all be finished that Friday, or else at the very latest the following Monday, three days before Christmas! And in the presence of a house sitter rather than us. I have a feeling this is another episode that will not go to plan.
On the plus side, I have joined a running club in my village. It is full of very fit French runners which serves two purposes - I am running faster and further than I usually do and pracising my French between puffs. It should be good training for the Londn Marathon next year, if I don't collapse on a hillside anytime soon.
Spent the weekend surveying mess and wondering if I should clear up but there seemed no point as the kitchen wall is coming down this week which means more chaos and dust. You might get the impression that I'm feeling sorry for myself, you would be right.
Feel a bit guilty because Brian and Iain have been working all day long taking out the old kitchen and constructing it as a makeshift in the laundry room until the new one is fitted. Men love making something out of old bits and pieces and they are really enjoying themselves but I can't shar their enthusiasm for what now looks like a botched together series of battered white units, ancient cooker and hob all in a tiny space where you can't swing a cat. Made the mistake of saying this and referring to it as a 'bodge job' which didn't go down too well.
I remember Iain leaping into action to save the hideous old kitchen units at our cottage in Hertfordshire so he could turn them into a workshop at the back of our garage. He was in his element while I was fuming that despite spending a small second mortgage on a new kitchen, I still had to look at the naff stuff we'd just replaced. In the spirit of recycling and being green, I shouldn't moan I know. At least we have ordered a new kitchen, despite the fact that we are rapidly running out of cash. It's high gloss, red and very modern, and is arriving the week before Christmas. With our usual immaculate timing, it is being fitted in three days and the granite is arriving on the day we leave to go to the UK for a pre-Xmas family visit. The kitchen guy said of course it will all be finished that Friday, or else at the very latest the following Monday, three days before Christmas! And in the presence of a house sitter rather than us. I have a feeling this is another episode that will not go to plan.
On the plus side, I have joined a running club in my village. It is full of very fit French runners which serves two purposes - I am running faster and further than I usually do and pracising my French between puffs. It should be good training for the Londn Marathon next year, if I don't collapse on a hillside anytime soon.
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