D'Emerillon Castle Renovacy

D’Emerillon Castle Renovacy Yep. That is a pretty good view, isn’t it? There’s a town down in the valley as well. With civilised things like shops, and warm places like libraries in it. And gyms. And schools as well, I guess, though I’m not quite so keen on those. They’re okay though. This is me. Jessamine Merrion, to give me my full name, wished on to me by an over-romantic mother, but if you call me anything except Jess we will seriously not be friends. I look just like my dad, except that I’ve got my mum’s eyes.
Where’s my dad? He died before I was even born – before he even knew I’d been conceived. Biking over to see my mum, and he got into an argument with a truck. And lost. They were both only just sixteen and hopelessly in love.
Then when Mum was nineteen, she met and married my stepfather. He was great. Blond, like Mum, so everyone thought I was adopted. Which I was in a way – he adopted me. I really loved him. And this is my little brother, Paul. Paul du Pascal Merrion, to give him his full name. Named after his dad…the trouble with marrying a reservist is that they get called up. Mum was seven-and-a-half months pregnant when she got the news of the explosion, the deaths. Paul was a premature baby: the shock of the news sent her into labour early.
And everything was different after that. Mum took a while to get over the birth alone, and we stayed with her parents for some time. Didn’t work though – the house was small and they were set in their ways. As soon as she could cope with the basics, we moved out.
And Mum sort of retreated into a fantasy world of her own. It was like this twenty-first century world was too much for her. Which is why I’m standing on top of a hill, admiring the view. In one direction, at least. Because this is the view in the other direction. D’Emerillon Castle. The very ruined D’Emerillon Castle. And the owner of it, one Paul du Pascal Merrion is standing here in front of me, telling me what fun it’s going to be, living in a real castle. Okay, I sort of get his point. What little boy wouldn’t want to live in a castle? I wouldn’t even mind doing so myself – if it had little things like roofs and so on. Paul’s hoping there are fish in this remains of a moat. I’m hoping it doesn’t flood. Though the fish might be useful to eat, I guess. “If you must cross this bridge, I want you to be really careful, Paul. Promise me. Falling in the moat won’t be funny. And I might not be here to pull you out.”
“Why not? You’re not going to leave are you?”
“No!” Paul has this weird thing about people leaving. “But I’m going to need to get a part-time job. If we want to eat, that is.”
There should have been a pension. There is a pension. But it’s all going on paying off the loans that got taken out while Paul was such a poorly little baby. We don’t actually have any real income. “But Mum’s going to earn money. Playing her guitar for tips.”
Ouch. Okay, our mum has a guitar, but I don’t think she’s learnt to play it beyond two chords. And she’s as short-sighted as Paul, but won’t get glasses because they aren’t romantic or historical, so she’s quite likely to end up playing to a lamp-post and a fire hydrant under the impression that they’re an audience. “Listen! I’ve got it in tune now.” Which she had. Nothing wrong with her ear.
This is my mother. Yolanda. She’s been trying to live up to her romantic and historical name just about all of her life – she’d have me in historical costume given half a chance. Paul doesn’t mind dressing up as a knight or a pirate or whatever, but me, I want to look like a normal human being, thank you very much.
Don’t get me wrong: she loves us, and we love her. She keeps Paul clean (I can do that for myself!). Mostly we’re fed just fine. There’s the odd beans-on-toast week, but we’re not underfed at all. But I have to be the practical one. And I got out-voted on this moving-to-a-castle lark. Moving to a Ruined Castle Lark! I did suggest knocking it down and using the stone to build a proper house. No. The castle is an official Ancient Ruin. Not a stone of these walls can be moved. We can build on to it – in more or less any style we like. We just can’t knock any of it down. Well, the half-height walls we can, obviously, so as to be able to build them up to a proper height safely, but not the full height walls. This is going to make things complicated…

Special rules for this one:
Jess can have a part-time job.
Yolanda can busk for money, but she can’t join the musician’s career.
All full-height stone walls have to remain, but you can put doors and windows in wherever you like.

Link here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9432368

The Braun Farm

The Braun Farm Karl and Gottfried slapped each other on the back and hugged each other.
“Good to see you again,” Gottfried said to his younger, blonder brother. “How long have you got?”
“Six weeks before my next contract starts, and I know how busy this time is on the farm. So I thought I’d come home and give you a hand.” Karl was back home again – and doing the first thing that he did every time he was back home. Setting up a dating profile. He needed some fun in between all the hard work! And then messaging people. Meanwhile, Gottfried was busy too – feeding the hens… Milking the cow…. And picking apples. To be fair, Karl not only set up his profile, but also unpacked neatly, put the clean bedding on his bed and got the evening meal ready.
“This kitchen could really do with modernising though.”
Gottfried merely grunted, and Karl went on, determined to get a rise out of his older brother.
“A bit like your dress sense really.” But there was no malice behind his comments. He knew Gottfried liked wearing the traditional clothes of the area.
“I’m all yours for the next two days, so suppose you tell me what you need me to do. Then I’m taking Liesel out for the day…”
How did Karl do it, Gottfried wondered. What was the magic his brother had that he himself didn’t. He’d love to meet someone – and get married too, unlike Karl, whose main aim was to meet as many someones as possible and marry none of them. This farmhouse had been built – and extended – to house a large family. And now there was only Karl and himself living there, and Karl would move into his own place as soon as he could get a permanent job rather than a series of (quite well-paid) short-term contracts. There was room for children. Lots of children. Gottfried quite liked that idea. There were two double bedrooms as well: there had been one big one, opening out onto the balcony, but they’d been made into two smallish ones when there had been three generations living in the house. Now there was just one small generation there.
The trouble was, every time Gottfried met a nice girl who looked like she might be interested in him, she eventually met his brother. Met Karl. And promptly lost all interest in him. And he didn’t know what to do about that.

Eidelweiss House

Eidelweiss House. At the library was the easiest place for the sisters to meet and talk about the news they’d just received. It was halfway between Maria’s sleek office and the tourist shop where Frieda sold local (and not so local) souvenirs. “So Great-Aunt Frieda left her house to you,” Marie said.
“Yes. Do you mind?” Frieda said anxiously. If you’d asked the sisters about their relationship, they’d have described it as mutual affection and incomprehension. In roughly equal quantities. Working out what the other one was thinking – or felt – was beyond them both, nine times out of ten. “Goodness, no! I’d only have had the hassle of selling it, and I don’t need the money. You need the money – and you were her namesake. Do you want me to see if I can find out who’s the best local agent? Someone at work will know someone who knows.” “I talked to Dad about it last night.”
Marie approved of that.
“He was full of memories of the place – you know he used to spend all his summers with his grandparents. Him and his cousins, until the grandparents got too old and Great Aunt Frieda gave up her nursing job and came home to look after them…Anyway, after they died, Great Aunt Frieda didn’t go back into nursing: instead, she made the house pay for itself by taking in lodgers. Overseas graduates, coming to work at the hospital or in the science labs.”
“Yes,” Marie said guardedly. She knew that starry look in her sister’s eyes. “So I’m going to do the same.” Frieda had heard the reservations in her sister’s voice. “For two years. I’m going to see if I can get the painting and photography that I love doing to turn into a paying proposition – I need time to work at them both. And if I decide to sell it at the end of two years, well, I’ve got that time to make it sale-ready. Dad said to take this chance because it might never come again. And seeing as Hans and I split up three months ago, and – had you heard he’s just got engaged..?” Not so starry-eyed after all. “I’ll miss you,” Marie said, surprising herself. “But, yes, this sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Go for it!”
“I’ll come back for Christmas. Although Dad was muttering about going up there and how idyllic the place was in the snow.”
“I might even go along with that! Give it a go – and if you need help with any of the financial side of things, please ask. I’d be so happy to help you do this.” And here it was. Eidelweiss House, looking a bit smarter, actually, than it had in her father’s old photographs. The house wasn’t huge – her father had told her that. “Two big rooms downstairs, though the hall was almost like another room too.” The kitchen looked a bit old-fashioned, but bright and homely. And the sitting room had much the same look and feel – a little old-fashioned, but welcoming and calm.
“Your great aunt never had any problems finding lodgers,” her dad had said. “She was pretty near the top of the recommended places list for graduates. And the office knew what suited her too – quiet studious girls who needed a safe home-from-home place. You could just say you’ll take the two who were lined up to come anyway. You won’t find yourself having to cope with rowdy lads.” The bunk beds that her dad remembered had gone, but he had definitely told her about the pirate frieze painted above the woodwork, and the stories the grandparents had made up about it. The other bedroom was slightly smaller, and again still held traces of the childhood things her father had told her about. No bunk beds here now, either. She wasn’t going to have to do anything to the house for the incoming lodgers apart from stock up the fridge. Which was just as well really, because they were arriving soon! She’d better phone her dad and warn him and Mum that she was moving out just as soon as they could bring her and her stuff up here. Frieda hung her best photographs on the wall opposite her bed, so that she’d see them as soon as she woke up in and remember to make the most of these two years. The bedroom was in keeping with the rest of the house – but at least the two bathrooms were up to date! And outside was amazing. The tree house was still there, much to her dad’s delight. There was a thriving vegetable garden that only needed a bit of work, a horseshoe court, a well-used tennis table.
“We just used to spend all day outside,” her dad remembered. "In the garden when we were younger, and then out and about everywhere on our bikes when we were a bit older. I think you’ll have a very happy time here my dear.”
The lodgers were arriving today. I hope we like each other, Frieda thought. The taxi dropped off its two passengers and their luggage and drove away. Frieda came out, slightly nervously, to meet them. They were both looking at her in an odd way.
“Excuse me,” said the one who was probably Leila Patel, “but is this Eidelweiss House? And do I have the pleasure of addressing…” she checked her phone “Miss Frieda Anserl?”
“Yes,” Frieda said, wondering why Leila sounded so unsure. “I was expecting a much older lady. That is why my parents agreed to let me come here.”
“Mine also!” Li Zhang exclaimed. “I was expecting to be staying with someone as old – and as fierce – as my grandmother. A retired Matron of a hospital: she will keep you in order, my grandmother said.”
“You have a grandmother like that too?” Leila said. “Does she always tell you that you are dressing all wrong...?”
“Oh yes! And does yours say, In my young days I would have never..?”
“I think this might be more fun than I was expecting.”
Frieda bent her head to hide her smile at their descriptions of their grandmothers, but she was inclined to agree with them. This might be fun. And this is a winter view – from the front. And from the back.