Dateline Normandy -- We'd be remiss if we didn't devote a column to Jacky, our handyman/gardener/dogsitter/chauffeur that we inherited from the prior owner of the house.
Mr. Know-It-All does in fact know it ALL - and he'll be the first to let you know that you don't know diddly. We think he gets some kind of perverse joy out of telling us that everything we do is just wrong - everything. We don't know how to heat a house, plant geraniums, hold a baby, make a fire, park a car, close a shutter, feed a dog. etc., etc. OK, so he may be right on most of them.
Still, he's a Godsend to have around - and he's always around, checking on the animals, putting the trash out on the curb, picking our rhubarb, plums, gooseberries and blackberries and bringing us tons of jars of jam from them- or cider from our apples. If we go out of town, Gaston is well taken care of (Jacky lets Gaston out to play all day while he works in the yard, feeds him, tucks him in for the night) , drove C wherever she needed to go before she got her driving license and keeps a sharp eye out on the house in general. He's irreplaceable and works his tail off at the house.
Jacky speaks fast and is hard to understand at times (often we just nod along with him) and says exactly what he thinks. Recently, he talked us into letting him put some of his sheep in one of our fields (they get grass to graze on, we save on him mowing it), a direct provocation to another neighbor whom we've also let sheep roam. We'll just have to make sure it doesn't stir up a neighborhood feud.
Anyway, it seems Jacky has taken us under his wing -- the pitiful American city folk transplanted to the Normandy countryside. While we had experienced living in Normandy before, he sure has a way of making us feel like we're in an episode of Green Acres. I guess we'll continue to humor him. ~30~
Mr. Know-It-All does in fact know it ALL - and he'll be the first to let you know that you don't know diddly. We think he gets some kind of perverse joy out of telling us that everything we do is just wrong - everything. We don't know how to heat a house, plant geraniums, hold a baby, make a fire, park a car, close a shutter, feed a dog. etc., etc. OK, so he may be right on most of them.
Still, he's a Godsend to have around - and he's always around, checking on the animals, putting the trash out on the curb, picking our rhubarb, plums, gooseberries and blackberries and bringing us tons of jars of jam from them- or cider from our apples. If we go out of town, Gaston is well taken care of (Jacky lets Gaston out to play all day while he works in the yard, feeds him, tucks him in for the night) , drove C wherever she needed to go before she got her driving license and keeps a sharp eye out on the house in general. He's irreplaceable and works his tail off at the house.
Jacky speaks fast and is hard to understand at times (often we just nod along with him) and says exactly what he thinks. Recently, he talked us into letting him put some of his sheep in one of our fields (they get grass to graze on, we save on him mowing it), a direct provocation to another neighbor whom we've also let sheep roam. We'll just have to make sure it doesn't stir up a neighborhood feud.
Anyway, it seems Jacky has taken us under his wing -- the pitiful American city folk transplanted to the Normandy countryside. While we had experienced living in Normandy before, he sure has a way of making us feel like we're in an episode of Green Acres. I guess we'll continue to humor him. ~30~
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