Hi there & welcome to the second edition of this newsletter

First off, a huge merci to everyone who subscribed this past week - you’re amazing! Your support truly means the world. Special shout-out to the kind strangers who jumped on board, the ever-supportive family and friends, and of course, the godchildren who kindly hawked this around!

I won’t lie, putting this out into the world was daunting. So, every kind comment and bit of encouragement has been hugely appreciated.

Quick note: I forgot to mention last time that everyone (free and paid subscribers) will receive all the first month’s editions. This way, you’ll get a proper feel for what I write about. To my wonderful paid subscribers (I can’t believe I have some already, bisous!!) thank you for your generosity! I hope you’ll understand the logic behind this little gift to the whole tribe.

Now, a fair warning…I love a tangent. My favourite conversations jump from geopolitics to fashion to dog pooh analysis to ‘what were they wearing’  in a single sentence. So don’t be surprised if my stories jump around in time…!

Alethea x

Romy & the hornet man’s boots

It’s coffee time on the terrace, in the soft but warm sunshine of early November. Almost two months in, and I still can’t quite believe I’m the proud proprietor of Les Plonges. A moment of calm before getting back to work. Then whoosh…

A white van rockets around the corner and screeches into the driveway. Out steps a small man, clad head to toe in what can only be described as a hazmat suit. He gathers his kit and, without a word, marches across the road onto our land, disappearing behind La Petite Grange.

Intrigued but quite content with my coffee (and an exhausted puppy snoozing at my feet), I watch as he starts prodding at a nest in the walnut tree. Once he’s back at the van, I wander over. “Great that you’re here, but… who exactly sent you?”

Turns out this wasn’t just any nest, it was an Asian hornet nest. Yikes. Even better, he informed me, whenever they’re spotted the commune takes care of their removal. I had no idea this was a thing, let alone that this was a bee-killing Asian hornet nest.

Before our new friend could de-robe from his hazmat suit, I took the opportunity to ask if he might take a quick look at a wasp situation inside the house and give me a quote for fixing it.

The wasp situation

A few days earlier, my lovely cousins J & C had bravely endured the sticks-for-furniture phase of the house to help me get settled. Since there was only one properly set-up bed, I gave them my bedroom and took the mattress-on-the-floor option on the top floor.

As they left, J casually mentioned she’d shut the bathroom door because they’d been battling with wasps during their stay and there were a LOT of wasps in there.

Sure enough, upon reclaiming my bedroom, I peeked inside then slammed the door shut. A swarm of wasps buzzed angrily around, a carpet of their fallen comrades littering the floor. Absolutely no, la, la, la, head in the sand… and for the past five days, I had been trekking up a floor to use the other bathroom rather than deal with it. Not ideal. 🤦‍♀️ 

Hazmat man agreed to take a look. We went in through the kitchen, up the stairs, and I let him enter the wasp-den alone. Less than a minute later, he emerged, unscathed and unfazed. “Yes, it’s a wasp nest. No problem. I can sort it.”

Brilliant. Finding reliable contractors when you’re new is not easy, so this was perfect. He’d return tomorrow to take care of it.

Returning downstairs, I opened the terrace door and gasped. Unseen by me, our hazmat-clad friend had kindly removed his boots before entering the house. A thoughtful gesture. What wasn’t so great was the sight now before us: A happily chewing Romy, part of a boot clamped in her mouth, another piece mangled and discarded on her left, the remaining “whole” boot on her right.

We’d been gone three minutes tops. "Romy, no!" I lunged, prying the boot from her jaws, gathering the remains in a hopeless attempt at salvage. “Monsieur, je suis très désolée! Je m’excuse, je n’avais aucune idée, elle est encore un chiot, je vous rembourse, vraiment, je suis mortifiée!”

Meanwhile, Romy circled the table like a furry shark, snapping at stray laces as we desperately tried to tie the destroyed boot back together.

Fortunately, hazmat man saw the funny side. Eventually, we managed to wrap the two halves of his boot onto his foot using laces and twine, and he hobbled off (sole-flapping), promising he could find replacements with the only cash I had on me, €50.

Absolutely mortifying. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t return the next day to deal with the wasps. Very understandable! The incident did kick me into wasp-facing action and another gueppe-man was found. Two days later I finally had a wasp-free bathroom.

Moral of the tale: NEVER leave your boots unguarded at Les Plonges.

More Snapshots of the Domaine Les Plonges ‘journey’ every week. 

Solar app-tastic

Since I’m currently sleeping upright like an upside-down bat, I can’t exactly claim to be the one physically responsible for progress at Les Plonges this week. But luckily, despite my enforced pause, there is some Spring action.

The PVs (solar panels) are up, running, and, most excitingly, feeding my new obsession: an app that tracks exactly how much energy I’m using and selling back to the grid. Sustainability and data-driven satisfaction : )

When the Abri roof first went up, metal (bac acier) instead of traditional tiles, I had a moment of serious doubt. It looked out of place, jarring against the beautiful charpente of the structure itself. But now, with the panels installed? I’m relieved. The black-on-black finish works, no garish orange tile border in sight, and the whole thing finally makes sense. Phew.

The panels aren’t too glaring, shiny, or obnoxious (I think), so Romy and I take a few gentle circuits of the valley to double-check. Most importantly, they work and with this Spring sunshine, we even hit 6.5kW, not bad for a 9kW system this early in the year.

This is no small milestone, considering the company was engaged and deposits were paid all the way back in August 2023. Even deciding where to place the panels was a mission in itself. The main house and grange were ruled out immediately, too intrusive for both ancient buildings and a little too in your face for neighbours living across the valley. I wanted them to be as discreet as possible. Another option, an outpost near the top meadow, was also scrapped. It would have required 200m plus of very expensive cable and trenching. Not that our original (very much, FIRED) maître d’œuvre cared much about extra costs, he was after all keen to use a helicopter to fix the pool. 🤦‍♀️ (That’s an entirely different story - thieves, charlatans, and a tale I need to be in a deep state of zen to even contemplate writing!)

In the end, constructing the abri behind the grange made the most sense. Slightly lower in elevation, the roof would still get plenty of sun without being too conspicuous. Plus, this wasn’t just about the panels, it was also the best spot for a car port. Right now, my solar app obsession is almost making up for the fact that this beautiful wooden structure is slowly disappearing, bit by bit, behind practical necessities (roof, walls, etc.). Which feels like such a shame because, in my opinion, it’s a stunning piece of carpentry.

One unexpected perk: as the abri nears completion, Romy and I are no longer in peril from rogue sanglier, hounds, and the Chasse veering off-piste and charging straight through the frame - yup, that happened.

Big news for the rolling in grass fans amongst us is the arrival of a new lawn. Romy has been helping (or hindering) A with the rotovator, earth and raking. Already, the smooth, weed and rubble free earth looks a million times better than the construction ravaged lawn of the past 18 months. Now, the real challenge, to keep dogs off the lawn for the next six weeks!

Possibly you found your way here via Instagram? @domainelesplonges? If so, an extra Bienvenue! You’ll already know I love a good visual.* So here I’ll share others & a little more context behind the images…

Whether it’s discovering unique work by artists and designers from near and far or rummaging through vide greniers, brocantes, and hidden treasure troves, I’m always on the lookout! I’ll be sharing my favourite artists, designers and sourcing spots here 😄 

The Folly

This is a tah-dah moment for me… voila ‘The Folly’, otherwise known as the downstairs / guest loo. Tucked away behind Matias’ beautiful bespoke chestnut doors, hidden from the otherwise traditional entrance hall, lies this little pop of pattern and colour - an unexpected surprise. And, in a rare renovation miracle, it’s the one room that turned out exactly as I had imagined. And I love it.

"Are you sure about using the same tiles on the floor and walls? It’s a LOT, I’d advise against it," warned S, the tiler. "Definitely don’t wallpaper the ceiling. That’ll be way too much," chimed in J, the builder. JL, the plumber? A full eye-roll at the sight of the green sink and pink loo. And long before any of this, R, the (new, decent) maître d'œuvre, took one look at yet another multicoloured element arriving and, ever so dryly, dubbed the whole thing ‘The Folly’. And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

‘The Folly’ quickly became the team’s affectionate (I think!) shorthand for this smallest of rooms and my more non-French design choices, but in the end, the name fit perfectly. Because really, where else can you go full-on design mad if not in the guest loo?

By the time ‘The Folly’ finally came to life the renovation road had become somewhat rockier, the boxes had sat unopened for far too long, spirits had faded and relentless renovation reality had taken over. But then… I came home from a work trip, opened the door, and there it was, a surprise. Finished.

I actually jumped. Squealed. Ran around like an overexcited child, stroking all the fixtures and fittings. Best of all? It felt, and looked, exactly like I had imagined, all those years (!) ago, at the very start of this long renovation journey.

Roll back eighteen months.

It’s the exhilarating early days of renovation - the stage where you can still rise above the mess, fuelled by blind optimism and a belief that everything will go according to plan. With no idea it won’t. It will take twice as long, cost twice as much, or more and drain the life out of you.

Mood boards are still in use AND referred to. They remind me of my days as a lowly PR exec, painstakingly pasting media clippings onto boards for client presentations… but I digress. The point is, I’m feeling creative, positive and possibly a tad experimental. Plus I have a work trip to Paris on the horizon and I’ve got my eye on something special…

After a whirlwind two-day client workshop, before hopping on the train back south, I have a very important appointment in the Marais - with the Trone PR. There was no way I’d be purchasing one of these designer loos without seeing the colours in real life.

I’ve already chosen the wallpaper, so there I am, sitting in their boardroom, playing with ceramic colour samples, matching them against my wallpaper and resisting the huge temptation to sit on the showroom model. Green or pink, green or pink… My heart says pink, but I have to ask: "Has anyone ever referred to this as a giant pink vagina loo?" Unfazed and utterly professional, the charming PR assures me that no, this has never been a concern. And so - pink it is.

At this point, I’m still in the hopeful stage - this renovation will go as planned, smoothly and on time. The loo is duly ordered. Now, quickly, onto the rest…

Wallpaper? Done. A little bit of South African abstract design from Ardmore - tick.

Sink? This one is trickier. Whenever I think of green and pink interiors, I think of one of my closest friends, and who doesn’t want that in the downstairs loo?! I’ve decided matching the sink exactly would be overkill. The wallpaper becomes my colour chart, and after endless online searches, I land on THE perfect terrazzo concrete sink from Concretta. They’re based in Bulgaria, but they ship across Europe. Tick.

Tiles? Zilch. Showroom visits, online searches and an alarming number of samples later and nothing worked. I need dots, specifically to match the tree trunks in the wallpaper. Surely, that’s not too much to ask? I’m drawn into a dark, expensive, rabbit-hole of personalised tile design - €25 + per tile? I think not. Just as I’m about to give up, I stumble upon The Tile Muse. Inexpensive, bespoke tiles, designed to order. Hurrah!

They’re based in Detroit, USA, but manufacture in Spain. So I bought an i-stock image and then it was four weeks from design approval to delivery. Frank, you are a legend and I hope you love the result.

A brocante mirror, some suitably light sabre-esque lights from Nedgis, and room complete.

Forever more, it shall remain The Folly - thanks R! And I couldn’t be more delighted with it.

Feeling the fear?

I mentioned earlier that launching (a rather grand term!) this newsletter felt daunting. Putting yourself out there, sharing your thoughts - it’s a vulnerable thing.

Anytime we share something we’ve poured time, effort, and creativity into, it comes with a dose of fear. The only way I’m getting past it? Writing for myself. I tried not to think about anyone reading it - although clearly, that’s not my ideal outcome! But in the moment of writing, tuning out that external pressure makes it easier.

Through my comms ‘work, work’, I’ve run plenty of media training sessions and remind myself that even seasoned public figures still feel the fear. The old adage of imagining your audience naked? Still oddly effective.

How do YOU work around self-imposed creative pressure?

Why Subscribe, even though this Newsletter is free?

Simply put, for two key reasons:

1. Safety - it helps me know who’s reading.

2. Support - it plays a role in building the business side of Les Plonges.

• With a free subscription, you’ll receive a bi-monthly newsletter- just like this one, but different (obvs!)- every other Thursday.

• With a paid subscription, you’ll get a weekly newsletter, every Thursday. But it’s not just more of the same, you’ll also receive:

  • First dibs on upcoming events and ateliers.

  • First notice for when Les Plonges is available for the occasional exclusive private rental.

  • Interviews & podcasts with fascinating creatives.

  • More content - including behind-the-scenes, resources, community chats, and (where WiFi allows!) virtual brocante & vide grenier tours.

    • On these - where possible - I’m happy to help source if you’re on the lookout for something special!

Whichever way you subscribe, I’m delighted to have you along for the adventure - thank you 💛

Ps: If you discover Adventures & Ateliers is simply not your thing you can unsubscribe easily and anytime via the link in the footer.

Pps: If you’re interested in the tech I’m using for this, it’s Beehiiv. I did a LOT of research on platforms and I’m happy to explain why etc in more detail, just ask. They’ve also given me a partner link, and this gives anyone using the link a 30-day free trial and 20% off your first three months on any paid plan. Note, it’s an affiliate link and I may receive commission on any purchases made through it.