Opening a bakery

I have spent around 13 years of my life working in the Bakery trade - in fact I started out in baking by creating, from scratch, a family bakery alongside our grocery shop. We had no background in baking but this didn't daunt us, and after 2 nights "training" in a local bakery (far enough away from us so that we didn't pose a competitive threat!) I started to "build" the bakery.

Globe Stores and Horstead Bakery, 1982

We were planning to buy our flour from a local mill, but when I placed my first order their chemist, who was also a test baker, came to see me to ask why I had ordered a particular grade of flour - not their best! I explained where I had been trained, and, though they were big customers of the mill, he told me he wouldn't cross the road for their bread - lent me a commercial bakery book, and advised me which recipes and which grade of flour to use.
Initially I tried to get local workmen to convert our premises, which had been a hairdresser's, into a bakery, but after getting a ridiculously high quote from one, and the second turning the job down (laying a floor, constructing a couple of workbenches and installing two sinks) as it "was too big for me", I decided to have a go myself! I decided to get the floor laid professionally, and asked the electricity board to lay on the 3-phase supply we needed - though they asked that we make the access hole through the wall for them, which I did, although I discovered that the wall was brick and flint (traditional Norfolk construction) so it took me ages and bruised knuckles to hammer my way through!
The sinks and workbenches I built myself, though I had no prior woodworking experience, apart from a term at school some 10 years previously! We added an electric water heater, which the electricity company installed for free as part of the 3-phase installation - in fact their work cost us nothing at all!

Twin sinks with water heater over - cooling rack to the rear

While this was going on I was also looking into what equipment we would need - and as this was before the days of internet and cellphones this consisted of using a baking industry magazine and looking through the adverts and calling companies asking for catalogues and so on! We heard about a local (50 miles away) bakery who also bought up old equipment, so arranged to go there, and bought some of our baking tins, a small mixer, a "pie" machine (with a heated die for things like mince pies), and some other sundries. Our mixer we bought secondhand from an advertiser and they delivered and installed it - buying new was way beyond our budget - but we did opt for a new electric deck oven and proving cabinet, and later on, when we were producing 90 dozen bread rolls by hand, also bought a roll moulder!
At this stage we had no idea how much bread we needed to produce, just that we had to cover the lost revenue from cancelling our order of factory produced bread, which was not that much in a village store. Similarly we didn't have much clue what our capacity was - I mean we knew how much bread the oven would take, but didn't really know how much we physically could produce!

All our bread was sold through the grocery shop - here is my sister wrapping a large white loaf

The premises we owned was a former semi-detached house, and we lived at the rear, with the two shop fronts, which had been extended some way outwards, being the old front of the house. We knew we would need some form of extraction over the ovens, and realised that the old fireplace had been bricked over, so once the ovens were installed (so I knew the exact location and dimensions) I knocked through into the old chimney and found a company who fabricated a stainless canopy, to my specifications including a condensation drip catcher, which we hung over the oven and connected to the chimney!
Interestingly the biggest "problem" we encountered was the oven installation. The company had warned us it was very heavy and suggested we buy four metal plates to go under the casters to spread the weight, especially as we had a wooden floor! These needed to be 12" square, and 1/4" thick (30cm x 30cm x 6mm), so we had them made and they were sitting next to the oven location before delivery. Unfortunately the electricity company, who were supposed to be there on the day to assist with the connection to the supply couldn't make it - or rather the oven arrived late in the day and we could not get the electrician to come at such short notice, so he could only come the following day. This meant that the installers couldn't connect the oven up, but also after they left we noticed they had moved the metal plates aside and NOT installed the oven on top of them! So for the next hour and a half my parents and I huffed and puffed, and levered and cursed, and finally managed to get the four plates under the casters.
The following day the electrician arrived and started by calling the oven company to ask about the wiring - again as this was before mobile phones it was quite a tricky process, as they explained to him where everything went, he rushed through to have a look at the wiring layout, and then went back to the phone for more clarification! Eventually he started connecting the 3-phase thick cabling to the oven and switched the main switch on ... and it tripped out! He switched it on again and again it tripped out! He checked his connections and tried again, and each time it tripped out! He called the oven company back and they again explained where everything went (the installers should have left a wiring diagram!), and after much to-ing and fro-ing the electrician realised that the oven was wired back to front! Live and earth had been transposed! A quick change over and we had a functioning oven! We had been told we had to "burn in" the oven before use, but had not been warned how bad it would smell, and how that would linger for days!

Tom Chandley 3-deck oven, with old, but reliable 100 quart mixer behind

Once the smell has dispersed and everything was in place we did a few test runs, starting with simple bread rolls, which we gave away as samples in the grocery shop - and they received amazing feedback from everyone! We had intended to create a sales area at the front of the bakery, but soon realised this was impractical, so used the large window as a display area where customers could see our bread all laid out cooling on the cooling rack I had constructed, but all the bread was carried through to the shop for sale.

Test baking rolls, oven canopy visible

While the construction work was in progress we had a visit from Norfolk's Food Safety inspector - we had to register as a food producer and this triggered a visit. It was early days so was a good opportunity to find out what was required as well as whether our plans would comply. The inspector was a young man, who later became the County's chief officer, and was very helpful. He made some suggestions which we willingly complied with, but also listened to our explanations why we were doing things a particular way. For example we were using wooden slats on our cooling racks, and he suggested we might want to varnish them as it offered better hygiene protection - I asked him how the varnish might react to hot bread coming out of an oven at 300 degrees being placed on it, and he agreed immediately that this was impractical, and as long as we maintained the wooden slats clean he would have no issue with this. We had also glued a formica laminate to our main 3 metre workbench, but had constructed a wooden one metre square "top" to work the dough on. He wasn't very happy with this - stainless steel was becoming the norm in food establishments, though formica was acceptable (but was subject to scratches which could harbour germs if not treated carefully - though he agreed that in a family business it was unlikely to receive rough treatment!), but wood was considered a "dangerous" surface. This was something I had talked over with my "trainers" and the chemist from the mill, so explained that stainless steel and formica were "cold" surfaces, while wood was neutral, and as temperature was crucial in the bread-making process, and the texture of wood assisted the manipulation of dough, it was the best surface for optimal bread production. We showed him our cleaning regimen on the wood surface, and he again acquiesced and accepted our procedure - he noted this in our file and over the years we never had any problems with inspections.
Everything was now in place and we just had to set a date to start production. We had worked out how much bread we had to produce to replace the factory bread sales, but were unprepared for how successful it was! The first week we sold 4 times our "usual" bread sales, and it kept growing from there! My Dad never quite grasped the concept of moulding dough, so he was our chief "mixer" and "cutter" - weighing the pieces for Mum and me to process. We approached the whole process with military precision - not having any family background in this it was all very new and we soon realised we had to put a system in place - so we sat down and worked out all our timings. How long the mixing process took, then how long that dough had to ferment (different breads had different bulk fermentation times), how long it took to process, how long to prove, then how long to bake. As the main bench was not only where we moulded the dough, but also where we emptied the oven, we had to make sure there were no clashes - that the bench was clear when a batch came out of the oven - so we had a timetable for when everything happened. There were very few gaps in this - we worked like a well-oiled machine - load oven then process the next dough, at the same time get the mixer on with the next product. Finish processing the dough on the table, empty the oven, and give it a few minutes to recover (might also entail changing the temperature setting) before loading the next batch, and then start processing the next batch. We had "training clocks" on each deck of the oven showing the time the bread was ready, and pieces of paper on top of every fermentation bin showing "knock back" time, and when that dough was ready for the next step! 
Monday through Thursday the timing didn't change, but Friday was busier so we had a couple of extra batches at the end - and Saturday ... well, Saturday was crazy, we started 3 hours earlier and finished an hour later to fulfill all our orders. Christmas we struggled to meet demand, so baked strictly to order - no walk-in sales - and had to close off the order list when capacity was met, and eventually had to do the same for the 23rd December - we were baking solidly, without a decent break for 11 hours in the bakery, and then putting in some more hours later (after a nap!) in the shop! It was hard, hot, work, but incredibly rewarding, not so much financially, but just satisfying to be producing such a good product that people really appreciated, and working together as a family!
When we started I was the one who got up first - at 4.00am most mornings getting the mixes going and the dough into the fermentation bins - with Mum and Dad joining me some 2 hours later when the table work started, but later on we started producing some confectionery lines (like almond slices, macaroons, fruit pies, etc.) and I would work on those while Dad was preparing the doughs - this meant that I was baking off cake lines while the ovens were not needed for bread (and using lower temperatures) so we were using our time (and our cheap rate overnight electricity tariff!) more efficiently. The great thing with all our confectionery lines was that they could sit and wait for oven availability as were not subject to over-fermentation! 
Everything we produced met with universal praise - something I put down to the fact that we worked with such precision - all the recipes were carefully calculated and strictly followed, and everything was planned and executed, no corners being cut, and no cheap ingredients. We even bought the highest grade flour the mill produced, using Canadian high protein wheat, and eventually became their "test bakery" as they knew we followed recipes and instructions. Their chemist/test baker would produce a new flour and test it under laboratory conditions, but when they wanted a "field trial" would come to us - the newest bakers in the area! Their sales Rep used to visit once a month - to collect the cheque mainly (some bakeries were slow posting cheques so his visits used to stimulate them into action, but with us it was a formality as the cheque was either waiting, or, if his visit was late, had already been posted!) - and he always commented that ours was the best bread he saw each month, even though other bakers were using the same flour, and sometimes the same recipes. He would always buy a Wholemeal loaf, and tell us that even their chemist, John, could not get the quality we got!
When we first started we (Mum and I) used to make the rolls by hand - Dad would cut 4oz (roughly 100g) pieces of dough, and we would split them in two and round them up. One "batch" was 360 rolls (6 trays of 60, which was the oven capacity), so on a Saturday we had to make 3 of these, spread among the other bread types - 1080 rolls rounded by hand between us! This soon became far too time-consuming and tiring, so we invested in an automatic roll divider/moulder, which made our lives a lot easier (and could also be used for Hot Cross Buns at Easter!).

Roll divider/moulder alongside proving cabinet, with slatted cooling rack in foreground

As we got better at things we managed without Mum three days a week, with just Dad and I managing to cope easily, freeing Mum for the grocery shop and more free time, but she was back with us for the busier days from Thursday onwards (Thursday we used the same schedule as the first three days, but the batches were much bigger so we needed the extra help).
John, the mill chemist, also showed me how to make fancy bread like wheatsheaves and "loaves and fishes", so we used to produce these at Harvest Festival time for our local churches, and for display in our window.

Loaves and fishes

Wheatsheaf

Unfortunately all good things come to an end, and when Mum and Dad decided to retire we realised it was financially impossible for my sister and I to continue the business - we needed to replace two workers, and would probably have had to employ three or four to cover the hours Mum and Dad worked, and as my parents also needed to withdraw capital to buy a house to retire to, it was decided to sell the business as a successful going concern. As part of the deal I agreed to stay on for 6 months to help with the transition, and to train the new owner in all the procedures, and my Dad (who was an accountant by profession) offered to continue to do the accounts for free, though this was turned down.

***To be continued***

Evening out with the gang in Beira, Mozambique

Mozambique was my home from 1967 until 1975 when I moved down permanently to South Africa - the first years I lived there during holidays from school in Rhodesia, and university in South Africa, but in 1974 I started working full-time in Beira as an articled clerk at a firm of South African Chartered Accountants.
My Portuguese was pretty good by then as I had learnt the basics in Angola between 1960 and 1962, and used it extensively during my holidays in Luabo, a sugar estate on the banks of the Zambezi, some 250 miles (400 kms) from Beira, so had no problems using it daily at work, even though many of our clients had English-speaking staff.
I had gone into Auditing primarily because my father was an Accountant, but I had also met a young auditor in Luabo, who had come from Beira as part of the team that audited the sugar estate books, and he worked for the company I joined, though he left the firm shortly before I started. We hung out together - he was a lot younger than the rest of the auditing team and only a couple of years older than me - while they were on the sugar estate and became friends, so met up when I moved to Beira.
Phil was English, but his mother had re-married a Portuguese man when he was very young so he had been brought up in Beira and spoke Portuguese like a native. The rest of our regular "gang" comprised of John (Portuguese father and South African mother), George (Greek, but lived in Beira all his life), and Nando (Portuguese), and the 5 of us hung out most evenings, sometimes meeting up with others (notably a couple of other Greeks), but generally we started out at the Mexicana - a cafe just outside the city centre. 
The Mexicana was a regular haunt for other ex-pats too - it had a bar attached as well as the regular coffee shop, and had tables on the pavement as well as indoors, and was always buzzing. Back in those days you could sit and nurse a coffee or soft drink for hours and no-one would bother you! They also made the best toasted cheese sandwiches I have ever eaten (before or since!) and later on it became my lunch-time spot!
Phil and I were working, though neither of us earned that much, Nando was helping support his family, so had left school to work at lowly paid jobs, helping at home as his father had walked out years before leaving his mother to provide for him, his older sister (who at the time was expecting her first child from her husband was away in the army doing his 5 years' national service), and her mother who also lived with them! George and John were still finishing High School - not that unusual in Mozambique at the time, even though they were both around 20 years old. They got "pocket money" from their families and back then money went a long way - if you had £5 in your pocket on Friday night you could afford to eat out Friday and Saturday, catch a movie both nights, and still have some money left over for a couple of beers Sunday evening!
We rarely drank alcohol back then, it was just something we didn't do and not a conscious decision - though Phil and Nando rode motorbikes (Nando a 50cc and Phil a 350cc), and George and I drove (coincidentally we both had Ford Cortina 1600 estates - his belonged to his father), and coffee and/or soft drinks were cheap. So we met up at the Mexicana and decided what to do that evening - which sometimes meant we sat around and chatted all night!! Sometimes we would head back to "George's Garage" - as he was a pretty good motorbike mechanic and a steady stream of guys would turn up for him to do repairs for them. He used to get them to strip the bikes down following his instructions and then did all the technical stuff, which often entailed swapping the 50cc internal parts (50cc bikes didn't require a licence!) for 85cc kits. This used to increase the top speeds from (unlimited!) 50mph (80kph) to 60-70mph (96-112kph), but at maximum speed the engines didn't last long as the crankshaft and all other components were not up to the additional strain!!
So whatever we decided to do had to be cheap - as Nando had very little left after helping his family out, and wouldn't allow us to pay for him. The cinema was a good option - it cost next to nothing to get in, and though the films were pretty old for the most part it was a nice diversion - our favourites being kung-fu movies, sometimes obscure ones starring Bruce Lee!!
During 1974 they decided to abolish movie censorship, and though this didn't mean that there was an influx of pornography in the cinemas it did mean that content was a little more, shall we say, salacious! Compared to what is shown on TV today in everyday programmes it was very tame, but at the time some of this was considered titillating! One evening we watched a foreign language film, subtitled in Portuguese, and there was a simulated rape scene - again nothing shown, not even a bare breast, but it certainly excited many of the male members of the audience, including some of our group!
When the movie ended someone suggested we head to "Miramortes". I asked what this was, and they said they would show me - so we jumped in the car and set off. "Miramar" means sea-view, from "mira" and "mar", and "miramortes" means "dead-view" - it is an apartment block overlooking the cemetery! This particular apartment block is where the "ladies of the night" live - some of them work the many night-clubs in Beira (it is a port town) so from around 23.00 men start gathering outside the apartment block, many sitting on the pavement, waiting for the club girls to come home - as it is cheaper than going to the club and picking one up there where you will also be paying a "club fee"!
I was told that the "better" girls are the ones who work the clubs, but that many others were "available" inside. I was already pretty horrified by this but went inside with my friends - George and John in particular seemed fairly familiar with the layout! We went up in the lift to the 10th floor from where we could see most of the other floors - the building was "U-shaped" with the lift at the base of the "U" and an open courtyard below so we could see the two open corridors on all the floors below us. Almost every door we could see had a queue of men outside!
By now I was nauseated by the sight. Men were going in and out of these apartments at an alarming rate, and on one occasion a scantily clad woman came out and called across to a friend, asking how she was doing! We were only there a few minutes, but in that time several men went into each apartment. I looked at Phil, and he looked as shocked as I was, even though this was his home town, and suggested we leave - and rather reluctantly, George and John agreed (Nando hadn't joined us as he had work early in the morning). Before driving away I asked the others if they really frequented that place, and they admitted that occasionally they did. Knowing that condoms were not in common usage back then (it was also a Catholic country so birth control was illegal!) I asked about diseases, and they admitted that "getting a dose" was commonplace too, but they had a friend at the hospital who gave them free shots! "Miramortes" was never again mentioned in my presence.

Arrival of a New Year

In little over 6 hours here we will be welcoming in a New Year, 2017, and around the world to the East of us here in Brazil many countries have already done so. Lots of street parties, lots of alcohol consumed, millions of pound worth of fireworks exploded, no doubt thousands admitted to Emergency Rooms of hospitals around the world too, with partying-related injuries. For what? For the expectation that 2017 may be better than 2016, or that all this partying might make it so??
I will be spending the evening quietly at home alone - I may raise a glass in toast to loved ones far away, but have absolutely no interest in surrounding myself with masses of strangers getting high on alcohol and drugs, and listening to eardrum-bursting levels of music in the streets. I will, however, stay up past midnight, but only because I would be woken up by all the fireworks if I tried to go to sleep earlier! It is almost 40 years since I went out on New Year's Eve, in Durban, South Africa, and though it was enjoyable back then in South Africa, it was also ... I don't know, futile? For many it will probably be the best thing they do all year!!
The last time I celebrated NYE it was a dinner party at home with some close friends, and at midnight we went outside to watch some distant fireworks. We had a few drinks with a lovely meal, and it was far more meaningful and soul uplifting than going out to surround yourself with strangers, all intent on getting drunk as quickly as possible.
But whatever you are doing, however YOU celebrate the arrival of a New Year, I wish everyone all the very best in health and happiness for 2017!

Honesty?

I consider myself to be a very honest person - I have never stolen anything in my life, and cannot walk out of a shop if I notice I have been undercharged or given too much change, which happens occasionally. I can even recall years ago once when my mother had sent me up to the row of shops near our house in a Yorkshire village to get her some cigarettes from the machine (I was no more than 12 at the time) - yes, back then cigarettes were available in vending machines - and the machine (owned by the sweet/toy shop there) dispensed 5 packs of Kensitas, instead of one. Without a moment's hesitation I took them into the shop and handed them in - much to the surprise of the lady shopkeeper! I don't recall any formal teaching about honesty, but must have picked it up from my parents/grandparents (we shared a house with them till I was about 4) and have followed that philosophy all my life - if it isn't mine I don't take it!

This has occasionally annoyed (slightly) some friends when we have been out for a meal, say, and I point out an undercharge in the bill - once all our drinks had been left off, which was considerable! I called the waitress over to say there was a problem with the bill, and she instantly called for the manager - who arrived ready for an argument, but was immediately deflated when I showed him our drinks had been left off! I explained later to my friends that had we walked out without paying for the drinks, the waitress would probably have had to meet the shortfall for her mistake, and we knew how poorly they were paid anyway!

I have a young friend here, who looks afer my house during my enforced absences, and he came round the other day asking to borrow my post-hole digging tool as he had acquired a plot of land and wanted to fence it off. Knowing he isn't working, and is always broke I asked him how he got the land, and he says it was vacant so he took it. The conversation then went like this -
Me: "It was vacant, so you stole it?"
Him: "No, I didn't steal it - it is public land"
Me: "Public land? But it must belong to someone."
Him: "Yes, the Municipality, but it is public."
Me: "You cannot just take Municipal land and use it, that is stealing"
Him: "No, they weren't using it and it belongs to the people, so I just took it as I need it. It is the only way I will ever get land to build my own house on."
Me: "So if I want to build a house on a road, which is also 'public' land, that is also OK?"
Him: "No! That is being used so you cannot do that"
Me: "What if the Municipality has plans for the future for that land?"
Him: "Too bad - it is mine now!"
Me: " But that is stealing - you know it doesn't belong to you, you do not and will not ever have legal title to it. If someone comes and takes it you will also have no legal right to protection! Also what about utilities like water and electricity - you cannot get them connected unless you have legal title?"
Him: "That is no problem we will just find the pipes and cables and connect to them."
Me: "So you will steal water and electricity as well?"
Him: "Well, it isn't really stealing - just taking it."
Me: "Taking without paying is also stealing."
Him: "But if I hold the land long enough it will become mine. Everyone is doing it where I live, so it is OK"

Two weeks later I asked him how the land was coming along - "Oh, I don't have it any more ... I sold it!" Now, knowing that this is the mind-set of a friend I have known for 7 years and who I entrust my home to for 6 months every year, fills me with a certain amount of trepidation!

He also was sporting a "diamond" ear stud last time I saw him (if it is a real diamond it is worth thousands, so must be cubic zirconia or similar), so I asked him where he got that (as I mentioned before he is perpetually broke!), and he told me he found it - in his bedroom! So without even bothering to find out who it might really belong to (could be a former girlfriend, or family member as he periodically moves out of the family home) he got his younger sister to pierce his ear with a needle and now wears the stud! And, yes, he considers himself to be a decent, honest person!

"If it ain't nailed down it's mine!"

School Sports - Cricket

As we followed the UK public school model cricket was a major sport for us. We had a beautiful, very well-maintained, "oval" and pavilion, and a couple of other "flat" fields (notably part of the athletics field) that were also suitable for cricket matches.
The game was taken very seriously and our First Eleven competed against other Rhodesian schools (I make no apology for continually referring to "Rhodesia" as that is what the country was called, now Zimbabwe, back when I was at school), and was very successful, as were some of our junior teams. I was not that good, though I did enjoy playing, and we "duffers" used to play in what was referred to as "the leagues" - those of us who didn't make the main teams played a variety of sports, including cricket twice a week, like basketball, tennis, football, on a more casual basis. We played for our "house" (there were 5 residential boarding houses) against other houses with a schoolmaster sometimes in attendance as the "umpire", but it was very informal.
My final year I was appointed house "leagues" captain - I think I was the most senior, semi-sporty person available! In "leagues" I was one of the better batsmen, but more than likely because the bowling was of dubious quality (all the better players being snapped up by the main teams), but elected to play wicket-keeper as captain, as it was a central position where I could keep an eye on things.
The "kit" was supplied by the school and we used to have to go and collect it before the games, so between us we had probably 4 sets of pads, 4 bats, 4 batting gloves (of very poor quality!), 2 sets of stumps, 1 ball and 1 pair of wicket-keeping pads and gloves!
In that company I was pretty good at keeping wicket - the "fast" bowlers were slow-to-medium so I stood up just behind the stumps for all of them and not much got past me. The gloves were old and oft-repaired, though, and didn't have much padding in them,and one day I noticed the school cricket coach had paused on his way home and was watching us play. Sandy Singleton was also a Latin Teacher, but had played cricket for Worcestershire in the UK, and as we finished for the day he called me over and asked to look at the gloves. He said he had been impressed by my keeping, but the gloved left a lot to be desired, so he took them away to repair them (I told him these were the best pair we had in "leagues" so he agreed to look at the rest of the kit - as we got the main team cast-offs!). The following game day he was there with the repaired gloves, now sporting red dimpled covering over the palms, and much more effective! 
A couple of weeks later was the start of the inter-house cricket tournament, and our house cricket captain, one of the First XI opening batsmen, sought me out to ask if I would keep wicket for the house team!! Mr Singleton had sung my praise, and as we had no one else who kept wicket too, I was co-opted into the side. My first problem was that I had no cricket kit of my own! So I had to borrow school equipment from the "leagues" locker, including the repaired gloves.
The team training sessions went much better than I anticipated, my catching was well up to standard, though these guys hit and threw the ball ten times harder than my "league" team-mates! However it was when I got behind the stumps to face the first over that I realised the true gulf between the different forms of the game. Even their medium-quick bowlers ran in twice as fast as anything I had faced before, and the quick bowlers ... well, suffice it to say that I no longer "stood up" behind the stumps! I also soon found out I was missed a vital piece of cricketing "attire" - the box! For the non-cricketers out there the "box" is a cup, usually made of plastic, that protects your genitals from being crushed by a very hard ball being propelled towards you at a high rate of speed. After being hit twice in one game - and manfully continuing on after the first hit with barely a tweet of pain - one of my teammates took pity on me and loaned me his "spare". Now the thought of "sharing" an article that is used against the skin to protect a part of the lower anatomy may not appeal to some, but I assure you that it is preferable to the agony of a hard ball hitting the testes!
I kept wicket with a modicum of success throughout the tournament, and even managed to hit 13 runs (3 boundaries and a single) in one game before being caught attempting the 4th boundary ... in the same place! After that I was instructed to block and let the "real" batsmen score the runs - which peeved me a little as I was third highest scorer in the previous game (though we did lose!).

Furnishing a new home, Part 2

(Part 1 was published separately and covered my tribulations in Salvador)
When I got back to my soon-to-be home town I asked around and was told that Seabra, some 70kms distant, was the local place for furniture, so I headed out full of enthusiasm! There were 2 or 3 larger furniture stores so I chose one and entered, and yes they did deliver to my town!! Great start, so I wandered round again making my selections, but from a much smaller range. Again when I finished a lot were unavailable, but eventually I managed to find enough to cover my needs. They started processing it and came to a total price, so I produced my Visa card (as there was a sign on the door) and they was an awkward silence - "Er, the machine is down, and has been for a month"! As there is a limit to daily withdrawals it would have taken me a week to get the cash to make the purchase, so I again had to look elsewhere!
The next shop I went in: "Do you deliver to Lençois?", "Yes", "Do you accept card payments?", "Yes" - fabulous, let's go! This time the man (who turned out to be one of the owner's sons) came with me - nothing had prices on, but he seemed to know them all by heart (or was charging what he felt I could afford, which was more likely!), and he could also let me know then and there if they were available. Again it took far longer than it should as we kept having to look for alternatives, and often they didn't have quite what I wanted so I had to make compromises - finding a matching wardrobe and chest of drawers was a real challenge, especially if I wanted it to also match the bed! Much of the available furniture was melamine coated, so I knew it would be delivered flat-packed as well.
Eventually we were done so went to the order point and he put it all on the system to produce the invoice - which I had to take to a cashier to pay! Because most people here pay on terms I did get a small discount for paying in full, and also because I was paying with a debit, not a credit, card. Right, now we came to discuss delivery - "How about this Saturday?", he asked - I almost fell off my chair as it was now Thursday afternoon! "Yes, that is fine", "OK, we will be there before 13.00" Handshakes all round and I leave much happier.
On arriving back in Lençois I contact the real estate agent - as the paperwork is still processing I don't officially own the property yet so need to find out if it is OK to have everything delivered there, which she confirms and gives me the keys (having checked with the vendor's daughter who is in town with his power of attorney). I also need to vacate my short-term rental apartment in about a week as they have another tenant booked in, and she also confirms that it is OK for me to move in to the house - on Christmas Eve - even though the conveyancing isn't complete.
Saturday morning I get to the house at 07.00am and do a little cleaning - it has been maintained, though empty, so doesn't need much but I clean the area I want the furniture leaving - expecting a load of flat packs to assemble! The hours pass and no sign of anything, so eventually at 11.30 I give them a call (they told me the truck would leave around 06.00am and it takes about an hour from Seabra) - "Ah, sorry, we had a problem with the truck this morning, but it will be leaving soon", so I wait some more. Knowing that the shop shuts at 13.00 I call again just before then, "Oh, I am afraid they won't be coming today - more truck problems - so how about Tuesday?" Now Tuesday I have to drive to Salvador, I am using a hire car and need to return that, and collect my car which I bought last time I was there - so I ask what time, and they assure me that I will be first delivery, and they leave at 06.00.
Tuesday morning I am back at the house ... waiting. 07.30 I give them a call, "They have just left, and will be with you in an hour" - so much for them leaving at 06.00! Eventually at 09.00 they arrive and start bringing everything in, and the boxes start piling up on the floor. When the last one is brought in one of them produces a couple of screwdrivers and is about to open the boxes - they are going to build the furniture! I didn't know that this was how things are done here - it arrives flat-packed but they assemble them for you. I had to get on the road so told them not to bother and I would do it on my return, and they asked who was going to do the work, and seemed flabbergasted when I said that I would do it myself! They obviously never heard of MFI or IKEA!
Upon my return I started assembling everything, but when I came to one box containing a wardrobe I noticed that one of the corners was damaged, and could see that one of the side panels was damaged inside. Before opening I took a series of photos, and of the damaged panel and called them, saying I was going to be in Seabra the following day and would bring the photos with me - the box itself was too big to fit in or on my car, and I also didn't want them to say I damaged it trying to transport it! They were very apologetic and agreed to send a replacement three days later when they were delivering to another customer in my town. 
I was expecting their truck to arrive but it was just two men - not carrying anything! They said they needed to check which side it was - despite me explaining which it was - and told me they had left the truck up on the main road as they didn't like the look of the road down to my house! So they took the damaged panel and returned with an intact one, and then assembled the wardrobe for me!
So finally I had my house partially furnished, and learned a lot about furniture shopping in Brazil!

Furnishing a new home, part 1

While I was waiting for the paperwork to be processed on my house here in Brazil I decided that I would go ahead and start buying furnishings and other things I would need. However these aren't available in the town I live in, and at the time I didn't know what availability was like locally so I decided to look in Salvador, some 400 kms away, while I was there trying to buy a car. I had quite a lot of belongings in storage in the UK (including a washing machine and tumble drier, but until I could get permanent residence I couldn't ship them to Brazil), so I decided to buy cheap household items like pots and pans and cutlery etc. 
Salvador is a major city of some 3 million inhabitants, as well as being the state capital of Bahia, so is well supplied with shops. I did some research online to compare prices as well as checking for stores that had good national coverage, so were likely to have a good distribution network.
The first store I went into, armed with an extensive list (including items like a fridge and cooker, and even a kitchen as houses here do not have fitted kitchens!), I was instantly approached by a member of staff offering assistance. "Hi, do you deliver to the Chapada Diamantina?", "Yes, of course", so I told them I would wander round, make my selections and then find them to place the order (they get commission for helping). I took down product codes and prices, and was making my way through the list when another member of staff approached. I was about to explain that I was already being helped, when they asked if I had nearly finished as they were about to shut! It was Saturday and this particular store closed at lunchtime - most are open all day Saturday as well as all day Sunday, but I had picked one that closed! They directed me to another, much larger store nearby that remained open.
I asked the same question about delivery, and they asked someone else who confirmed that they did deliver to my area, so I set off again. I had a slight problem choosing mattresses as they have a number rating system - based on the weight the mattress is rated to support - so needed help selecting the appropriate one, and wasn't too insulted when they pointed out the heaviest rating for mine! 
I finally found all I wanted and went to the order desk where they started checking things on the system. Half of the things I had chosen, based on what was on display, were unavailable, and they had no idea when next delivery would be - so I then went again and selected alternatives, which they checked as I went round and finally I had a complete list which they started processing. However when I gave the delivery address as Chapada Diamantina they told me they didn't deliver that far!! I pointed out, rather angrily, that before I started I had asked and it had been confirmed that they did - so they went looking for a supervisor who confirmed that they did not deliver here. By then I had spend around 5 hours in total in their stores so called it a day.
The following day, Sunday, the stores open later so at 11.00am I arrived at a different store - same question about delivery and same confirmation that they did to my area, but an hour into my selecting items they found me and told me apologetically that they didn't deliver that far, even if I offered to pay for it, though they did suggest they could find me a local transport company who could help! I declined and gave up the idea of finding my furnishings in Salvador, though I did manage to buy all the smaller items, including bedding and pillowcases. That also was not without incident as I filled a shopping cart with goods, as well as a couple of additional bags - and they wouldn't let me take the cart to the carpark as it was "against store policy for the carts to leave the store"! A security guard watched over my things as I had to make two trips to my car!
(This will be continued in Part 2)