The past few weeks in France have been like a dream that I don’t want to wake up from. Has everything gone like clockwork? Non. Have I woken up one morning and found, miraculously, that I could speak French fluently? Non. (unfortunately!!)

But in my dream and, now, thankfully, in reality, I’m living a simple life in France, in our own little cottage. I still have to pinch myself. As I sit here in our sunroom, tapping away, looking out over our garden, I can see roses, lavender, wisteria, daisies and lilies all blooming madly, now that Spring has well and truly arrived. We have a little blackbird nesting in the wisteria, so I’m hoping baby chicks arrive before we leave. The church bells have just chimed the hour.  I’d like to say that the sun is shining and the sky is a clear blue as well, just to complete this idyllic picture, but we have a cold, grey day today, although there is little that could spoil how I’m feeling.

I read something very recently and it was a good reminder. ‘It starts with a decision’. The idea of having a house in France started as a daydream, a ‘wouldn’t it be nice’ kind of thought. We all have them. But it’s interesting how once a seed has taken a hold, the universe starts to open up and offer opportunities for your dream to become something else. Suddenly you begin to see everywhere, the things you need to make it happen. For me it was walking into a picture framing business in New Farm and finding a business card for French lessons on the countertop. My romantic vision of a rural French cottage, now seemed like a possibility, if I could only speak the language.  So I made a decision to take that business card and call the number on it. I met my wonderful teacher, Katrina, who helped show me that this lyrical, romantic, complex and, let’s be honest, sometimes downright frustrating language, could help make my dream more plausible. I’d have the benefit of making connections with people, when we travelled throughout France. And that was it for me, she had me at ‘Bonjour’, you might say. 😉  I love meeting people and having conversations that are meaningful. Not just ordering a coffee, or buying a baguette. And so, the next decision was made. I would put as much effort as possible into becoming as proficient as I could, so that my dream could become something more.  Initially Jeff was somewhat resistant, thinking it might be too difficult, too foolhardy, too extreme.  I was disappointed, but also understood. I had some some fears myself, even if I didn’t want to relinquish my dream. What would we do if this or that went wrong? Could we afford it? Are we just being silly? We’d read so many stories about how the French buying system was tedious and fraught with difficulty, did we want to put ourselves through that? But, little by little over the years, interspersed with other holidays in France, my worries were allayed and my husband changed his mind. (with absolutely no nagging, on my part, I promise!) He turned 180 degrees and embraced the idea with as much passion as I had. So, we made a decision. And here we are….

But, enough of my musings…

We’ve been very busy since we arrived, taking ownership of our house again, after several months absence. A house needs life in it to feel ‘homely’. Some new light fittings, some gardening, grocery shopping of course, washing windows and buying some geraniums in pots at the markets in Chauvigny, which I decided would add a beautiful spot of colour in our little rue, next to the front door. We’d arranged for that same front door to be painted while we were away. It’d been necessary to choose the paint colour online, without a sample pot in sight, so I was a wee bit anxious before we arrived, in case it wasn’t as nice as the colour I’d thought I’d chosen. Ridiculous, I know, since a door is easily repainted if we weren’t happy with it, but in fact, it’s even better than I imagined and I’m absolutely in love with it. Thank you, Farrow and Ball (Inchyra Blue)!!  There’s still some paint left in that tin too, so there may well be something else I find that needs sprucing up, before we  leave 😉 

We drove to the tiny commune of Couture d’Argenson, an hour and a half away, to pick up 2 side tables I’d purchased on the French Facebook marketplace. They are both very old, with a real history behind them, which I find just so appealing and, since our house was built in 1750, it seems just right.

We also took delivery of a very old, ornate mirror for our entrée, plus a silk panelled room divider, both also bought from the same marketplace site. Buying from a distance, I have to trust the seller, my instinct and my memory of the space we have available, so it can be a tricky combination. Thankfully, so far at least, each piece fits perfectly in the place where I had imagined them, the prices paid have been ridiculously reasonable, the condition of each has been as I viewed online and we’ve met some wonderful people to boot. Winning all round, I say!!

It being Spring here, (le printemps), it is also ‘la Saison des Brocantes et Vide Greniers’, which are effectively second hand markets. They are a big business throughout France and many hundreds of people attend. There’s even a book released every year for each region, which details the date, time, location and how many stall holders are registered. I, of course, have bought the book for the Poitou Charentes and, while we’ve only been here a few weeks, it is already very well thumbed. Our first foray was to the small town of Saint-Julien-l’Ars, not too far from us and, as we needed to drive to Poitiers to pick up my sister Deb and brother-in-law, David, who were arriving the same day, it was, conveniently, on the way. The market was fabulous, set in the grounds of the Salle Polyvalente, with 120 stalls selling everything from bric a brac, plants, including dozens of varieties of roses, artwork, vintage implements and electrical goods to huge pieces of fabulous old French furniture. I was in heaven. Of course I bought something, how could I not? We brought home a lovely painting and two ceramic owls. No, I’m not a collector of owls, or a collector of anything really (although you could argue my obsession with shoes could be perceived as such.. perhaps I’m a ‘Sole’ collector?). No, the owls were purchased to scare off the pigeons who roost in the tree next door and who appear to have decided that, from time to time, our terrace is their toilet. I’m happy to have a gaudy ceramic owl sitting on our fence, if it works. We’ve been assured it will and, for only €2 each, we’ll at least give it a try…

It’s just wonderful having my family here. Rhiannon and Tim came at Christmas and we loved it. And now Deb and David are here, their first time in rural France, and we’re loving not only their company, but also their obvious enjoyment of our town, our friends and the French way of life. I think they’re as enamoured as we are..

Out and about in the Charente…

Bourg Archambault, Anges-sur-l’Anglin, Saint Savin, with the magnificent frescos, Montmorillon and, bien sûr, our garden!

Out and about in the Dordogne..

Sarlat-la-Canéda, Brantôme, Monpazier, Domme and La Roque Gageac were equally spectacular, each with their own brand of beautiful. We’d also hoped to visit Rocamadour, but as it built into a rock face and the weather wasn’t kind, we wisely decided that perhaps the wet conditions were not conducive to clambering up and down steep granite steps. There is always next time. On our return trip, we took a detour to the ‘petit village’ of Saint Pompon. With such a quirky name, we just had to go! It was, not surprisingly, très beau.

Tomorrow we’re heading off again for a few days, this time to Chinon, in the Loire Valley. I could be wrong, but there’s a distinct possibility that there may well be wine involved and a château or two…

Je vais vous parler bientôt!