Summary
Ishwasher disasters follow wherever I go - even to France. My stepfather's dishwasher blew up halfway through our visit, and with it went the entire electrics. Thankfully, the previous owners had left a number for their electrician, Thierry. From what I've heard about the French and their work ethic, I was expecting Thierry to shrug down the phone and drift in a couple of weeks later. Instead, a charming man turned up in less than a couple of hours. He spoke the same amount of English as we did French, and proceeded to talk us through the electrics in a mixture of the two, including what to do if lightning strikes the house - which it did last year, indirectly through the neighbouring church. My stepfather's third wife (who doesn't speak much French, only Italian, Afrikaans and English so far) looked on in horror - the hand signals and sound effects were enough to convey the seriousness of the matter.
Even without lightning, the electricity supply is a Heath Robinson affair, with boxes all over the place, not to mention the Frankenstein-type fuses and levers that come into play during storms.See the full content of this document
Extract
All Smiles in the Dordogne
All our dealings with the French were nothing short of enjoyable, from Thierry to the men in the wine shop, though they had good reason - my stepfather is already a regul...
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