Fancy moving to France??????? We did.

During a particularly dark, wet and cold January afternoon in 2003, I was chatting with a friend about escapism etc. We mumbled and grumbled about the UK weather, the government etc. etc. I had often fancied escaping the "Rat Race" by living on a canal boat, but this was a fantasy really.
My friend had always had a desire to move to Spain and mentioned that property prices were, shall we say, very keen there. Some minutes later we were heads down on the internet into Spanish property web sites. Looking at pictures of bleached white buildings with orange roof tiles, marble floors, shutters, flowers and of course sunshine, was a blessed relief from the days weather. However, the prices were another phenomena altogether, especially when you realised that they were in euros, so had to be multiplied by approximately 0.67 to give a sterling equivalent.

The little grey cells had started to warm up.

A week later during a repeat performance of the weather aforementioned, I wandered off to WH Smith in search of the dream. Returning with a superb title written by David Hampshire, "Living and working in Spain" and the obligatory map of the region, I set about studying the Spanish way of life. The book was a well balanced and very informative view on all things Spanish. Having read the book feverishly from cover to cover, it was decided that Spain was not the place for Sue and I. The reasons were manifold, the main one being that the only words we knew in Spanish were Ole and Paella. This would be a major problem in establishing ourselves out there.

Back to WH Smith and another gem by David Hampshire, "Living and working in France".( Another map too)

It should be noted that at this time we were running our own fishing tackle business in Shropshire and our customers had no idea at all of our "Big Plan" Just as well that the laptop faced towards us in the shop.

The book was read, the maps pored over, French property web sites were listed and viewed and finally the dream was born!

Like many people in the UK in 2003, we knew that our home was worth a great deal more than when we bought it some eight years previously.
The realisation of the dream would depend on the valuation. Our first estate agent (nameless for legal reasons) gave us the news that we had hoped for.

The green light was just starting to flicker.

By the end of March we decided that trawling the internet and reading many of the monthly magazines( of which we found the best to be French Property News.see www.french-property-news.com)on France was not sufficient. We had to go and see for ourselves. I am a fan of the internet and the entire 6 day trip was booked using the media. Easyjets web site was consulted and subsequently we booked to fly to Paris CDG airport for mid April. We found accommodation in the Northern Dordogne in a mobile home, and booked that. Train timetables and prices were noted and maps of the Paris Metro downloaded for future use. Appointments to view various properties were made through Assets, a UK based French property agency. Anne and Robin were superb.Click their banner at the bottom of the page to view property in Dordogne, Charente and Haute-Vienne.They have helped us throughout all of our endeavours. Finally a car was hired from Hertz in Limoges. We had decided that to keep costs to a minimum we would follow the current trend of travel and backpack it.

So, having had the proverbial "worst photo of me I ever saw" done and passports applied for, E111 sickness cover forms acquired, Travel insurance sorted and of course buying the biggest bloody backpack we could find, at 04.30 on Sat morning we took a taxi to John Lennon airport in Liverpool.

Upon arrival at Paris CDG we went through the passport desk mumbling quietly "Merci". Then straight to the Cafe where "deux cafes s'il vous plait" was the order of the day. If you have never had French coffee it comes as a surprise, small cup but seriously strong stuff. One of those and a cigar and I was ready to face our trip. We walked to the rail station in some of the heaviest rain I have ever seen (or felt). We were soaked. Not daunted, the tickets purchased, more by accident than design, and we got on the first of many French trains. They are clean, and they run to time. You could almost close your eyes, and at the time the train is due, step off the platform and on to the carriage. This is not an exaggeration, trust me.

A few changes later and a few hours travelling through the french countryside and we arrived at Limoges Benedictin station.

A short walk and we arrived at Hertz car hire. Having originally asked for anything apart from Peugeot 106 ( great car just a bit small) I was greeted by, it has to be said, a very attractive mademoiselle who asked for my signature on the forms and handed me a set of keys. My schoolboy french only heard the words Peugeot "Cent Six". A quick translation told me One Hundred and Six.106!!! Sadly schoolboy french was not sufficient to argue, so we gladly accepted the car and the chance to sit and have a smoke. Now for the fun. The pedals in a left hand drive are in the same order as right hand drive. There the similarity stops. As luck was not on our side this time, we were facing down a one way street with a french roundabout at the bottom of it in one of the regions busiest towns at rush hour.
After having painstakingly found 1st gear and released the handbrake (after I realised that the door handle would not perform that function) and gripping the wheel like the only life belt on the Titanic, we were off! You will be amazed how quickly the human brain can change from 25 years of driving on the left to driving on the right. The gearbox is another matter. When you locate it, after feeling around( you dare not take you eyes off the road) the door handle again, its anybody's guess which gear you end up in. Just as well they cannot get out of the box.

After clipping the kerb a few times and some unusual gear change sequences we arrived at our hosts, see Le Chateau Verdoyer. A Chateau site with Tents, Mobile homes and Chalets all for hire and at very modest prices. I can recommend the site to anyone. A quick wash, change and a well earned meal in the restaurant washed down with a local red wine and we slept like babies.( Not in the restaurant you understand)

The next few days were spent with various french estate agents(immobiliers). They were, without exception, very friendly and most spoke very good english. You will find, as we had been told by an immobilier, that if you make the effort to speak french to the French, you often find they speak back to you in english. This makes the part of your brain that translates languages turn linguistic somersaults. We learnt one crucial french phrase which loosely translates as " the french make time for time". This was to become our mantra for the next 14 months. It encapsulates the whole french way of life. Leisure time for them is of great importance particularly in the rural regions. This was one aspect of french life that appealed to us and one which we felt could not be achieved in the UK.

After having seen France for the first time, we fell in love with the place and its people.

Returning to the UK on a wet, cold and grey afternoon, with the rush hour traffic just served to consolidate these feelings.

To the drawing board then........................................

The basic plan was to sell just about everything that we owned, buy a place in France for cash, thereby releasing the ball and chain of the mortgage, and offer accommodation to all and sundry. Logistics? who needs them?. We all do. It took 14 months more of research and hard work to realise the dream.

As a quick aside for the chaps amongst us.........if you are maybe not your Mother in Laws favourite male, you will fall to a level below that of Old Nick himself when you announce that you and her daughter are about to uproot everything and move to foreign climes. Beta blockers can help though.

It is now June 2003. Our first estate agent having found us a buyer for the bungalow, we found a buyer for the business too and proceeded to plan for what we hoped would be an October departure from UK. A friend of mine once said "Man makes plans and God just laughs". A truism if ever there was.
The business was sold in late October and it was at this juncture that our estate agent decided to inform us that our buyer had decided not to move after all.
So, mortgage with no income. Another estate agent was duly summoned and Sue found a job in a shop whilst I worked for a good friend and supplier of ours Dave.
Dave runs one of the biggest online fishing tackle shops you will find. See www.tacklebargains.co.uk During this time I learnt a lot about web site design, construction and application, resulting in the building of the site that you are on.

The months went by, still no serious buyer. Then finally, Matt, who used to work at our shop sends a colleague of his to view the bungalow and we have an offer. The green light was on!! The "To Do " list which was initiated over a year ago was being attacked at one end but rebuilding itself overnight at the other. Storage for furniture was arranged, we bought a left hand drive Peugeot 306 diesel estate,a cattery was booked for our two feline friends Tinkerbell and Merlin, banks were informed, taxes were paid,( well mostly) friends and family informed of our temporary address, useless items were taken to a car boot sale, the list goes on.

May 23rd 2004 and we leave the bungalow. Then a short stay at Sues mums to consolidate our situation and make more checklists. Then at 01.30 a.m.on 1st June with the car full of the necessities (not forgetting 14 pairs of Sues shoes), a roof box full of two dismantled pushbikes and more bits and pieces we set out on what has to be the most horrendous drive that I have ever undertaken. We picked the wettest day in the UK and France that there had been for months. It rained, and I mean rain, torrential mostly, until our arrival at Limoges some 18 hours later. The car was, I suppose, slightly overloaded and handled like a barge, and whereas UK roads tend to be cut through hills and mountains, the french way is to simply follow the contour of the land, which results in some down shifting of gears to keep momentum.
But feeling the heat and seeing the sunshine the day after, and wandering happily through the towns that we had visited the year before, sampling the delights of french coffee and croissant all served to alleviate the previous days challenges.

Our plan had changed a little now. We decided to buy a caravan in France and site it somewhere whilst we house hunted and waited for the subsequent purchase to go through. Of course this would also enable us to buy a property that may need some work to be done before becoming habitable, as we could live in the caravan on our own land and maybe have the option to rent it out eventually too. Luckily enough we found one which was not too far away from Limoges and was offered for sale by another British couple who had similar ideas to ourselves( and countless other people). They delivered it to our hosts site in the Charente Maritime region. This meant that we were near the coast for a period of a few months and only a couple of hours drive from where we hoped to find our new home. Our hosts Kevin and Debbie are another couple who have followed the same dream and been in France for nearly 2 years now.

Our plan to offer accommodation had been altered to include fishing holidays in the the Haute Vienne/ Charente/ Dordogne regions and also to offer self catering or B&B. It has also been decided to sell some fishing tackle from the site too. Hopefully as our knowledge of the french language improves we shall offer fly fishing tuition as well. You may well find some quality items of tackle on our ebay page Click here

Within seven days of our arrival we had found the house that we wanted. It had been on the market for just over a week.See www.piegut-immobilier.fr This company have english speaking estate agents who have been absolute angels for us. They have sorted Electricity, Water and Telephone connections for us. We used HiFx for our currency transfers and they have to be commended on a superb service. See the link above for details of the services that they offer.

You will find the village of Champagnac La Riviere about 30km south west of Limoges on the D75, which runs off the D699 from just North of Chalus.

At the time of writing we have completely renovated our small gite, and are now working feverishly on the main farmhouse as we have bookings from April 2005 onwards, and need somewhere to live whilst the gite is occupied. Thanks to a lot of research in the early days, the only mistakes we have made so far are: Ordering breeze blocks and being shown sheet chipboard, Tu’ing the Maire, and suggesting that the daughter of our local bar owner was “Hot” as opposed to warm. All easy and fun mistakes to make and I have no doubt more faux pas’ will follow. However the French have an attractive habit of just laughing with you and politely putting you right.

Friends and family always ask the same question “ So er…..any regrets?” We can honestly answer, none whatsoever. We are very happy here.

For the moment we are making plans for the business, guests and our barn and hoping that God does not find too much humour in them.

With thanks to all who have made our new life possible and those friends whose ears I have bent for over two years now.

A Bientot.

PART 2 ONE YEAR ON written 20 Oct 2005

Well, its just over a year since we got the bunch of rather large and old keys to Chez Nous………now known as Le Petit Verger.

Being situated just 5 kilometres from Chateau De Brie, we have temporarily been referring to our house as Chateau Debris. This should give the reader an idea of the work involved when buying a farmhouse with no sanitation, a few 40 watt light bulbs and only cold running water.

“ Oh we’ll look back and laugh some day” is the motto that I repeat to Sue when she has that “Why did we take this on?” look on her face. Actually after the initial shock of seeing the house for the first time devoid of furniture and perhaps wishing she had chosen more wisely her partner, she has enjoyed just about all of the work entailed.

We started on the gite first, as this was to provide income in 2005, and after eight weeks or so, we moved out of a chilly caravan into a chilly gite. However after the installation of a log-burner and finally getting the OK from the Mayor to connect up our porcelain throne to the main drain (a luxury I will never again take for granted) we felt at home.

Taking a week off we toured around our region, arranging bank accounts, car insurance, a french MOT for the car, and buying a second chauffe eau, loo, shower etc in readiness for starting to renovate the main house. Our plan was to finish the gite, and have the main house livable by the beginning of April 2005 as we had advertised that we could receive guests from then onwards. It was tight for time but, EDF arrived as planned and up rated the power supply on 4th April, which meant we could test the new hot water system in the house, having previously only had a 3kw supply. The business was registered by 5th April, gite insurance arranged, beds made up, final checks made and our first guests arrived on 6th April.

This was to be the beginning of our season and our first ventures into the accommodation market. We managed to fill over twelve weeks this year and have had the pleasure of meeting the many different people who have stayed with us.

Prior to April we had to register the car. We gathered all of the relevant documentation and with the ever present French/English dictionary still hot in my pocket we entered the rather grand offices of the Sous Prefecture. Feeling reasonably confident I spoke with a very helpful monsieur and we discussed in french the various details of the registration process. He explained that all we were short of was an import certificate, which he said was readily available not far away. Having used just about all the french words I knew in one form or another I bid him au revoir telling him we would return later. At this point in perfect English he thanked us and said he would see us later. Startled I said Maintenant vous parlez anglais” with a smile- “Well you started speaking in French” he answered with a wry grin. We all laughed. You will find that the French have a habit of doing this, and why shouldn't’ they, it is France after all.

Registering the business would take an article on its own, suffice to say that if you are in the Limoges area, if you e-mail the CCI they do have English speaking representatives at their offices in Limoges.

On our first Sunday in Champagnac- La- Riviere I decided to brave it out and headed to the local bar for a coffee and a chat with the french owners. The owners were an inspiration to us. Speaking slow and basic french to me, we enjoyed a half hour of parler about Champagnac, fishing, motorbikes and much more. I finished the conversation with a “drop in for a coffee at our house if you are passing”. They duly arrived a few days later and invited us to their house for a coffee as we were up to our elbows in tile adhesive at the time.
Our friendship has blossomed over the last year. We were invited to their house for New Years Eve, what a meal!!!!. We did not eat again until at least the second week in January.
We see our french friends a few times a week now and they have helped us integrate into the village life. Indeed, as I write Serge is due to arrive to help us lay our first tiled floor. We regularly exchange jokes, most of which could not be repeated on this forum, and have discussed everything from vegetables to the afterlife.
Our french vocabulary has increased ten fold since meeting these people. They gently put us right and of course learn a lot of english too.

Our immediate neighbour is a french widow who has a rather nice natural curiousity about what we are doing in the house as the place was practically uninhabited for the last ten years. She does not speak English at all, but is oh so patient with our french.
After just a week in our house she arrived with a huge bag of potatoes followed by tomatoes, and assorted vegetables. The french are generous to a fault, and we were pleased to give her a box of black cherries from our orchard and some walnuts.
We give her regular guided tours as we progress with work on the house, and she is always interested to meet our guests at the gite.

To give the prospective old farmhouse owner a rough guide to materials involved in a renovation such as ours, here goes.

56 sheets of plasterboard
250 metres of 3 x 2
20 bags of cement
Tons of sand
Gallons, sorry litres, of paint
Timber various
800 tiles
300 metres of electrical cable plus fittings
2 x chauffe eaus
2 x bathrooms complete
1 kitchen, so far….with one to go, as I have just been reminded.
100 metres of copper pipe plus fittings
30 kg of filler
4 tons of gravel, barrowed by Sue
70 odd patio tiles
Thousands of screws
At least 50 litres of sweat
4 pints of blood
A few tears along the way.
Regrets………………….none! Didn’t need any.

Being married in France is a distinct advantage when registering businesses etc, we weren’t. So what better idea than to get hitched in France.
More paperwork, and bureaucracy, but what a day!!!
The ceremony was at our local Mairie and was short but very enjoyable with a relaxed air I have never seen before. We were presented with a commemorative plate made locally and left the Mairie with two friends who, on our instruction, hooted their horn throughout the village to great amusement.
We had 20 guests, French and English, a hog roast, banana flombay and the obligatory gallons of french wine and a guest who decided to jump into our plunge pool, fully clothed. Theres always one***, thankfully.
***Name and address withheld for legal reasons;-)
Seated on tables and benches borrowed from the commune in a partially renovated lounge with a pig turning on a spit outside the house was as far removed from any wedding I have known, however everybody thoroughly enjoyed the day.

Only now as the season draws to a close do I remember that our original idea was to offer fly fishing tours and tuition to our guests. However with over 90 percent of our visitors being here to hunt for houses, not fish, I have only fished myself for about 3 hours this year, which leaves a lot of development before next year.

The fishing season starts with a bang here in our village, I provided the whimper later in the day for reasons that will become clear to the reader after the following few paragraphs.
In Champagnac-La-Riviere there is a local angling club who have what has to be the best idea for the opening of the 1st category rivers and lakes. Essentially this involves starting fishing at sunrise on the 12th March, which incidentally this year gave a high of –2 degrees at that hour, one hours fishing then off to the bar. Now I enjoy the odd few glasses of the local grape juice, but not normally at this hour. However with fingers like Captain Scotts and a nose akin to Rudolph, I was grateful for the glass of white wine with cassis waiting at the bar for me. Warm handshakes all round and a quick check on catches (mostly blanks, myself included) and a second glass is “obligatoire”, quickly followed by a third. The warming effect of this beverage, it has to be said, is excellent. It also has the added advantage of allowing the part of the brain which is responsible for talking in a foreign language to function more easily, although not necessarily correctly.
A table for twelve had been laid in the bar, the last supper sprang immediately to mind. All of the food in our local bar is cooked on site, no radiation roasts here. Our first course was the most delicious French onion soup with garlic bread and although the red wine was served in glasses, it is also applied liberally to the soup too. I do not usually eat a lot for breakfast, or drink alcohol, so kept telling myself it was lunchtime as a huge steak and equally large bowl of chips arrived on the table. Custom dictates that you must drink red wine with the main course. Quelle surprise!! It is now a little after ten o’clock in the morning and my liver is expecting overtime pay. Cheese and salad followed the main course, and yes………a glass of red wine or two, just to accompany the cheese really. Trying to eat, drink and speak french with my lips partially numb and an inane smile on my face was a challenge.
Normally, I was told, we would fish again for an hour or so before returning to the bar for aperitifs, however as the outside temperature was still a balmy zero degrees the breakfast ran into lunchtime. Un Pastis ou un café? I took the sensible option. “Un grand café noir, s’il vous plait, merci.’ I said with a whimper before strolling home for a good long lie down.

After we finish the lounge and office this week and catch up with a backlog of “Really must do soons”, having almost completed the list of “ You should have done this by nows” I may take rod and line to the rivers and lakes of the Limousin and reflect, as anglers do in the long periods between fish, on what has been a superb first year here in this region of France.
Our guests have been marvellous, the weather kind and our new friends and neighbours helpful and generous.

As the leaves are now turning brown we look forward to evenings in front of the log burner as we reminisce, contemplate and plan for our second year here.

A bientot.

Tony and Sue

PART 3 written Dec 2007.

Unbelievably, it is over 2 years since I last updated our story so far. This should give the reader an idea of just how fast time can pass here in France, when you are renovating a house and setting up a business involving looking after guests in a gite. A life I have to say we would not consider changing at all although we always thought that French clocks ran at a slower pace than UK.

Where shall I start? Moving on from the last entry – I was invited to the AGM of our local fishing (drinking?) club. Being summoned to the local Mairie on a cold and wet February morning, I met most of the local fishermen outside, lots of bonjours and handshakes followed. Upon entering the office that had been set-aside for us for the meeting, it turned out that the mayor was the honorary president and sat next to me. After much chat about this and that (some of which I understood….) it was announced that the position of treasurer was now vacant as the previous years holder of this position was stepping down (I began to realise that the earlier smell of rat was increasing a little) Sure as oeufs are oeufs the Mayor asked me if I would like to take the position. Not a situation where a” non merci” would be have been polite or tactical. I was duly voted in with haste as the new tresorier. Feeling rather pleased with myself I headed home to announce the news to Sue. Just half an hour later we went to see some friends at their RV park in the village www.parcverger.com and passing their French neighbour we went through the obligatory kisses with her only to then be congratulated on being the new tresorier. Champagnac-La-Riviere is a small village, with news travelling at just less than the speed of light it would seem. We were beginning to feel a real part of the village now, which gave us that warm fuzzy feeling in the stomach or was it just trapped wind?.

Whilst the commitments of the treasurer are not many as our president does most of the work, it is automatically assumed that the treasurer and his wife would available to help at any fund raising do’s.
The fishing club is entirely self financing and holds various functions throughout the year including a fishing competition, bingo afternoon, and the famous - well at least in the commune - “Moules et Frites” evening. This is usually held in mid January and is the first of the many local functions and fetes after Christmas, thereby giving our village and the inhabitants of those locally a chance to blow off the cobwebs and perhaps take a glass or two of good cheer combined with a superb meal, and dancing to the band comprising of the presidents Dad on the drums and his sister singing and playing the accordion. We were asked to turn up at 9.00.a.m.on the day of the meal to help peel spuds and clean mussels. The day started normally enough with coffee being served 10 mins after our arrival at the village hall. At around 10.00 a.m. it was seen fit to partake of a glass of white wine. A difficult custom to come to terms with as I tried to explain to our French friends that normally we drink wine in the evenings, and most other alcoholic beverages come to that. We sat around a huge bucket, peeling potatoes and generally having a good chat as best we could at that stage with the various members of the club who had turned up to assist. I have to say these events are well attended for the preparation. During the afternoon after the obligatory 2-hour break for lunch, we helped arrange all the tables and associated cutlery and crockery. At 7.00 p.m. the same evening we arrived ready for whatever was to face us.
The really good thing about a rural French evening is that the conversation is more important than the background music. All went slowly at first, as aperitifs were served to all. Asking the president Dominique how many were people were anticipated, I was told 120 odd. That is a lot of mussels and even more chips. The evening was very well organised with Sue and I doing whatever we could in the way of serving the guests, moving huge plates of chips around and serving drinks to table. One or two glasses of Pastis has the miraculous effect of allowing the french that we learned at school to find its way from the filing cabinet at the back of the mind to the forefront and onwards into conversation. A similar effect takes place with the ears as you tune in to what is actually being said to you. Dominique said that we would eat after the others, I thought perhaps 10.00.p.m., no, around 2.30 a.m. he announced that we would eat in the kitchen area whilst the party went on in the hall. Some Bordeaux and Champagne arrived for those who had been serving and washing dishes, and we ate well, finally wandering in zigzag fashion at around 4.00 a.m. (from memory) to our house, which happily is a short walk, mostly downhill.

Later in June we had the fishing competition. Quelle surprise! I really should have known this by now) there is a bar, which opens at 7.30 a.m just for those that are helping you understand, before officially opening 8.00.a.m. By 8.30 a.m. our competitors began to arrive, the mayor included. The weather was dry, very warm and sunny and following the adult competition in morning we all enjoyed a superb meal on benches and tables in the shade next to the lake. Sitting at tables that have been pushed together to form a very long table seating perhaps 40 people is an experience not to be missed although I had to take my steak back and ask our chef if he could actually warm it up to the point of maybe being cooked…. “Bien Cuit” is not a term the French really understand, preferring their steaks to be within the realms of resuscitation with the help of some veterinary science.

As the Limousin winter progressed into February, the snow came, changing the landscape dramatically. Being early middle aged and sensible, we instantly started to make a snowman in the garden. After much discussion it was decided that perhaps the carrot looked better on his face after all……………

We still have reasonably well defined seasons here in the Haute-Vienne and after a week of snow, the weather turned wetter for a few weeks or so before we could again feel the heat from the sun in early March. By mid April, anything that is green and grows in the ground decides it is time to push the overdrive button. The rate of growth is sensational, with us asking ourselves” Did you see that flower there yesterday?” Late April and the crickets start to sing again with mostly dry, warm and sunny days. Temperatures increase slowly throughout May, with June and July and early August normally being the sort of summers that UK had in 1976.
This is our busiest period. Although we accept guests in the gite year round they all tend to congregate in the summer months. We have had some charming and entertaining guests since our introduction to this way of life. Having mentioned to one couple that on 13th August the Persied meteor shower passed directly over Champagnac-La-Riviere (well, we all use artistic licence to a degree) they suggested that they made a “Meteor Supper” for us all. A seven-course meal was brought out to our terrace in well-timed stages. 1st course, glass of red wine, look for meteors, 2nd course, glass of red wine……….I am sure that you get the idea. In the wee hours it was decided that we had seen enough meteors, so we all retired with stiff necks and full bellies.
Autumn can be beautiful with cooler mornings and evenings, warm quiet days and of course the resplendent colours that one associates with that time of year. We were entertained to another culinary delight by a charming couple in October 2007. Known as a Poitjke, pronounced Poiky. This is a South African tradition and involved the use of a small bonfire and a huge cast iron pot, which luckily the previous owner of our farmhouse had left us. The ingredients, in this case chicken, vegetables and stock etc are allowed to cook slowly over a wood fire for around four hours, resulting in a very tasty and tender stew with woody overtones. Of course the fire needs to be tended regularly and we were told that the custom was to have a glass or two whilst the meal was cooking. As October nights draw in quickly we sat close to the fire with a floodlight until nearly 8.00 p.m before adjourning to our lounge to watch the rugby match, which incidentally South Africa won, pleasing our guests no end.

Since writing this amble through our life here in October 2005, we have finished the lounge and kitchen in the house. With a little help from our French friend and bricoleur Serge, new floor beams were installed in the kitchen and within a few weeks normality reigned supreme once more. Funny how you miss the little things in life, like floors.

We had always promised ourselves some chickens after the main work was completed on the house. After much research on the subject we decided that some bantams would be ideal for our requirements. Luckily we were offered some chicks for free.
They were around 8 weeks old and the courteous French couple who donated them admitted that chicken sexing was not their strongpoint, they did however offer us an exchange if we found we had more than one cockerel. We took our 6 chicks home and introduced them to their new home, which had been built in one our outbuildings using mostly left over materials from the renovation. Naming them with all female names actually turned out to be a little premature. Dotty became Donald, Babs became Basil and Kylie(the one with the nice bum) became Jason. Yes we had three of each sex. However as time has progressed they all seem to get along fine having paired off successfully, we hope. We now have a regular supply of eggs, albeit a little smaller than standard eggs, they have an excellent taste with bright yellow yolks. They are great company and good listeners (the chickens, not the eggs).

Since opening the doors of our gite to the world in April 2005, we have had many guests who have been property searching in the region. Five couples who have stayed with us have now found and bought their French idylls within 5 kilometres of our village. This, we feel, is an endorsement of the regions features and delights that we fell in love with four years ago on our first trip here.
One couple in particular who as well as buying us our visitors book for the gite and then proceeding to put more entries in it than anyone else, have found themselves a perfect project just half a kilometre from us in the hamlet of Tamisac. Now our good friends, Margaret and Keith have started on the same road as we did some time back and will be running their gite in parallel with ours. Please visit www.Limousinfishing.com. Like us, fishing is not obligatory, not when the supermarket shelves are by far the easier option if you enjoy eating fish. However with the Limousin being known as “The land of a thousand lakes” we do attract those of a piscatorial persuasion sometimes.

We still get asked the question” But what do you find to do all day”? Between working on the website, answering e-mails, operating our small mail order business, feeding the chickens, (and the guests sometimes), chatting with our French neighbours, frequent runs to the bottle bank (under the cover of darkness whenever possible), spending time with our guests and friends, cooking using fresh ingredients and from scratch normally, and stoking two log burners in winter, we just about have time to relax and reflect on what we would have been doing in our previous occupations in UK.
Life here is not all roses around the door and warm sunny evenings on the terrace. We have had to research, discover, understand and adapt to a totally different system to that in England and in a different language, but every challenge and change has added to our experiences and we both feel was worth every effort as we thoroughly enjoy our new life here. Having struggled in the early days to break free of the bonds of what, it has to be said, was a more structured lifestyle we now enjoy the fact that no two days are the same here. We make very loose plans some days as things can change. This newly found flexibility is a true release and promotes a more open and optimistic approach to ones life, which after all was one reason for making the move here.

Hmmmmm must go and feed the chickens ;-)

Wishing all a Happy New Year.

A bientôt, Tony and Sue December 2007.

August 2010

Just a quick footnote.

We have now sold our house in Champagnac la Rivière and moved just a little further downstream, as it where, to a small hamlet by the name of La Borderie where we will set up another gite for guests who want to fish, househunt or simply unwind. Watch this space...........

We are still based in the Haute Vienne and still very happy with our chosen lifestyle here, just wish we'd done it years ago..........

So, it's back to a bit of DIY for a while.

Maybe see you next year.

Cheers, Tony and Sue.