Will this torture never end?

The kitchen under siege from the builders ... The sofa, coffee table
and wood burner are all under tarps and polythene, but the wall
behind the wood burner has been rendered and looks nice

I had lofty ideas about becoming the next Peter Mayle when I first began writing these blogs.

Like Mr. Mayle, I had intended to employ a dry wit and impress you with a wry look at our exploits. However, despite us both coming from the same seaside town in the south-east of England and both of us choosing to renovate a house in France, there the resemblance ends.

For a start, when Mr. Mayle penned 'A Year In Provence', there weren't so many Brits purchasing those Gallic piles of stones in the belief they had got themselves a bargain. However, since the book, they have turned up in droves, armed with screwdrivers, hammers, half of B&Q and a look of grim determination on their faces. Hundreds, thousands or even more have flocked to the various regions of France to experience their own versions of that famous book.

Not only that, but many others jumped on the bandwagon and penned their own accounts, flooding the market and making what I'm doing here old hat.

So we have heard stories about people moving to France to start their lives in everything from B&B's to snail farms, holiday homes to permanent homes, small houses to chateaux, artist's retreats to music schools, with varying degrees of success ... or failure. Right now, we could fall into either category, as we haven't been in our house for a year yet.

The central heating control box that was removed from the
garage. No wonder the bloody thing did't work.
Looks like we got this renovation under way
just in time, eh?

We also failed to take into account what living in a house with two workmen busily working away day after day after day would be like while they were doing the plumbing, electrics, putting up two walls and creating a bathroom where once there was just empty space.

For the first three weeks, we thought of this process as nothing but a slight inconvenience; a hurdle, which didn't seem anything other than something to gently step over - once you got past the mountains of dust that was.

Last week however, everything changed ... dramatically. So writing the blog in anticipation of the success of our move to France might well have been jumping the gun somewhat.

There's a reason why Mr. Mayle wrote 'A Year In Provence' . It was because of the renovation process and as we have discovered, 'Four Months In Normandy' doesn't even come close to covering the building work, let alone the rest of the stuff that begins for us when the boys go home for the final time.

And we haven't got anywhere close to the time when we can say goodbye to the boys yet.

Our existing electrics cupboard. Note the three plates of
spaghetti dripping off the top. That's not all of it yet either.

We thought that the worst was over when the the cutting out of the office doorway had been completed, the walls erected, the brick dust settled and swept up - well, mostly anyway. Therefore, the so-called messy jobs were out of the way.

We were so sure of that, that we believed the rest would be plain sailing.

What a mistake that was.

If anything, the mess has increased with more holes being drilled in walls, cable everywhere and not an end date in sight.

Stress levels have gone through the roof and although I wanted to make this blog light and fun, this week has been anything but.

Monday evening, we had to move the majority of the kitchen stuff out of the kitchen and into the lounge so that wiring could begin in there, but for some reason, that didn't happen, turning up the stress level another notch. But I think the majority of stress is because it's been three full weeks and by the end of Friday, it will be four. We were expecting it to be finished in four.

Our only worktop has also been kidnapped. Oh and behind
the wall there is Rob - one of the boys - trying hard to
escape being snapped - and failing miserably!

'Extreme Makeover: Home Edition' this is not. How is it they can build a house from scratch in seven days and we can't even get a few simple upgrades done inside four weeks?

We have a very small area in which to cook, clean and an even smaller area in which to do everything else; areas which are sadly not free of builders rubble and general detritus, but we're trying to make the best of it.

I suspect we have fallen foul of the English mentality. Everything there is expected to be done in next to no time. Let's face it, at home and work we're constantly bombarded with things that need our immediate attention and we have doubtless brought that with us.

This situation is not the fault of the boys at all. They turn up every day and work, it's just that we - or that is, I - don't have much concept of how long it takes to rewire a four storey house to French standards in three phase, or re-plumb it either, never mind all the other jobs they've had to do or still have to do. So with every day, I was getting closer and closer to wanting to throttle someone.

We are both under stress. Living in a bedroom and having to poke around under polythene sheeting in the dust and grit will do that to you. Bathing in what feels like a sand pit and spending one's day trying to work to the dulcet tones of a hammer drill and Rob's singing will take its toll.

Our lounge - or what is to be our lounge, with cupboards
and shelves borrowed from other rooms while the kitchen
slowly comes together - which I am assured will happen ...

We are however, beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel - and it's not a train coming towards us either. The home stretch is in sight, but whilst that may be the case, there's worse to come.

Right now, we have a toilet, we have a bathroom and as scabby as they may be, they work, but as soon as the boys begin working on the plumbing, all that will change.

Fortunately, we have somewhere to go during the time that's happening and we will be able to cook, clean, eat, drink and spend a penny or two, but I can't say as I'm looking forward to it.

I'm not the world's most patient bloke and waiting is not my strong point. However, having said that, I know what's up the road and it's going to be a vast improvement on what we have right now.

There is a model call the Kübler-Ross model also known as 'The Five Stages of Grief'. Using this, we have actually defined the five stages that you will probably go through when living in the house that is being renovated, upgraded or just repaired.

• Denial: This is where you try and kid yourself that it's not bothering you. The constant throb of hammer drills, dust and general mayhem as well as the workmen themselves, making it feel like your house isn't your own. The longer this goes on, the less you can kid yourself that you don't mind.
• Anger: Your anger will be unfocussed and irrational. However much the builders do on a daily basis, it's not enough, it's taking too long, they're making too much mess and it's driving you mad. It's actually a mixture of frustration and anger, because it's unfocussed.
• Bargaining: You'll probably be tempted to pay them more, just to get them out quicker, but this is a false cure. Not only will you be out of pocket and the work cost that much more, but you will only be kidding yourself that the work will actually finish sooner. The work takes as long as it takes and chucking your hard-earned at it won't change that.
• Depression: Not sure that depression is the right term for being so tired you're actually dead on your feet. You've been giving so much energy being angry, frustrated and denying that it's getting to you, that you're not yourself. Once you can have breakfast in a room that not covered in dust sheets, sleep in a bed that's not full of scratchy builder's rubble and walk on floors that don't crunch underfoot, you'll be right as rain and that nervous tic will disappear. 
• Acceptance: Just let it go. You can't do anything about it. These old houses are riddled with issues that until things are taken apart to fix the things you know about, you don't know exist. They have to be rectified before the issues at hand can be dealt with. Yes they are going to cost more money and yes it means that they won't be finished when you thought they would, but worrying about it isn't going to help.

We have both been or are going through the above. Whilst Pen reached the acceptance stage some time back, I have only just reached it and what a weight off my shoulders that has been. It's so like the 'Money Pit' here, it's unbelievable. The only differences here are we don't have the Shirk Brothers working for us, we are definitely not living in a million Euro mansion, nor have I taken a fairground ride down the scaffolding to land head first in the ornamental pond to have a cherub pee on my head.

Well not yet anyway.

This stage of the renovation is not forever - as I am constantly being reminded (for my own good and for the good of those around me), and as tough as this is, we have to go through it to get to the end. It's unusual for renovations like these not to have a stress level that goes well into the red zone. Whilst neither Pen nor I have suffered a nervous breakdown, tried to kill each other or anyone else - yet, we've come very close.

And anyway, the end results are going to be so cool.

Well, we hope they will be ...