Settling in around town

So…. we’ve been here for just over a week now, and things have been really busy – non-stop in fact!!

There’s been the serious business of trying to progress the transfer of ownership to deal with, and the even more important business of socialising to contend with!!

Our social calendars are buzzing!! We’ve been for more coffee dates, and meals out than we have done for ages!! It’s lovely! We are feeling as if we are becoming well integrated with the local community – albeit that is mostly – but not exclusively – the English community. It’s all good though. The Maire recognised me when I popped in to his store for some veg, and a few other French people have also recognised us when we have been out and about.

Living life in a van (after all that’s what our motorhome is – a Fiat Ducato that has been converted to include a living space) has its challenges. We are quite literally on top of each other for 24 hours a day – and it’s a small space……and tempers fray!! It’s important to find ways to overcome this, and one of the ways we do it is to not do “everything” together. So, for example, I will stay in bed whilst Martin goes to the boulangerie in the morning with the dogs – that’s after he has made me a mug of coffee!! Oh, I suppose that’s not really the right spirit is it? It’s not far – here’s his route: –

Pain run

But I have to confess that it was bliss to spend last Saturday morning slowly wandering around the village market and then having a peaceful cup of tea in the café watching the world go by – all on my own. Little things like that go a long way to help us not be in too close proximity.

Solitude and tea

We have been very fortunate that we have now managed to clear the land enough to drive the motorhome up on to the track next to it – and most nights we have been sleeping up here, although we did spend one night back down in the Aire – more about that in another blog I think.

Parked in the track

The first night we didn’t know what to expect – we wondered if the doggos would bark all night at the strange animal sounds – but no, they slept soundly – as did we. The second night we were both woken by a really loud hoot and screech of an owl – really close by! Lovely to hear and a very vivid reminder that we really are in the middle of the woods here. It’s really lovely, very enchanted and we feel very lucky to be embarking on this adventure

Memorial service

Tuesday was the Fete du Printemps – the Spring Fair – which started at 0800 but at 1130 there was a memorial ceremony up at the war memorial outside the Town Hall to mark Armistice Day – the French mark both the 1^st and 2^nd World War endings. Naturally we could understand very little – but we listened anyhow and tried to take in the general meaning of what the speeches were about.

Our friend Carol sang in the choir – they performed the French National Anthem – La Marseillaise – which was “Tres Bonne” to hear. There were lots of beautiful things to buy at the fair – we are trying to avoid buying “stuff” as we have such a limited space to keep it in, so it was mostly food we bought. I approached a nice looking food stall being run by a nice looking French man and made a brave attempt at my most recently learned French phase – “Pardon, ma Francais ce n’est pas tres bonne” (sorry, my French is not very good) and then “avez vous any vegetarienne” (have you any vegetarian) to which he laughed and said – it’s OK I’ll speak English then – and told me that just about everything was vegetarian – I was really pleased that a French fete had some veggie choices – not at all what my fears had been. Even more so later in the day when we discovered that the crepes and gallettes stand had a vegan option for a crepe – tofu and mushroom. I was naughty though and had 2 fromages!!

All day people were praising the dogs – everyone loves the doggos and comment on how they just lay down, really calm – just waiting for something interesting to happen – or a piece of sausage to fly their way more like. Doggos at the Spring Fair

Then in the evening we went along to the Café de La Poste to watch the local ex pats play pool – and again everyone just loves the doggos – they are settling in really well.

We’re becoming more French by the day – we do the French kissing thing – and we now have a French bank account. The day we met with Brieuc at the local branch of Credit Agricole to set that up was very amusing. We had finished our business with him and were standing in the little foyer just chatting to him. Unlike in England we can take the dogs pretty much everywhere so they had been in his office with us, and they were just minding their own business by our feet. Then someone came in to use the cash point and the dogs leapt up and starting barking excitedly – then we realised it was our friend Carole – who of course the dogs recognised and she probably had treats for her own dog Panda. We all said hello – and Carole gave me the obligatory kiss on each cheek – French style – then Martin and then she turned to Brieuc and kissed him. I just assumed she knew him from the bank and as she has been out here 21 years it was quite feasible that they had become very friendly. I thought nothing more of it until we went over on Sunday for afternoon tea with Carole and Bernard and she confessed her “faux pas” – she had thought Brieuc was with us – maybe even James – and kissed him without thinking. I bet he had quite a shock!!

Top of the range Cadac

So, as I sit here it is 8.30pm on Friday evening – it’s 24 degrees – nice and cool in comparison to the sweltering heat we had earlier today. We’ve had our dinner – cooked outside on the new top of the range Cadac my darling husband bought me to soften the blow of not having a proper kitchen for a year, and we’ve had our Gin and Tonic in the sun (and also a sneaky little after dinner snooze) and I’m thinking – it’s only a grass track – but it’s our grass track!! And it’s our little piece of quietness, and solitude…. And heaven.

And if this is to be our temporary home for the next 12 – 18 months (or longer if the French system doesn’t speed up somewhat) then that won’t be so bad will it.

Better go now before the grass (quite literally) grows under our feet!!

©Sharon Rees-Williams – wordpress.com/thislittlepieceof.land, 2018

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Nous Sommes Arrive

Such a lot has happened since my last entry that I really don’t know where to begin.

Suffice to say, the absence of an entry last Friday should tell you that life was very hectic!! Manic is probably a better word.

After exchange of contracts it was all go in preparation for the Anglo/French removal company to come last Friday to take the belongings that we feel we want to keep in the longer term, but don’t need or don’t have space in our motorhome.

We needed to have a habitation check, a service and some work done on Marsha the motorhome, and unfortunately the only time that was possible to have this done was the Monday, and then the Wednesday and Thursday – which meant I was home alone to do a lot of the packing. Chaos is the best word to describe that whole week. Stuff was sold on social media and sorted out in to piles for the charity shops and the tip.

Shpock Proceeds — £500 made by selling on Shpock and Facebook Market Place – not to be sneezed at al

Martin done a total of 28 runs to the tip in 18 days – we know that as there is an overhead display which clocks up each visit – this made us VERY nervous – what if there was a maximum number of visits? What if this time was the last time we would be permitted to offload some of the contents of our loft which had being lying dormant for quarter of a century on the basis that we “might need it sometime”. Note: we were in our current house for a decade not a quarter of a century – BUT there was definitely stuff up there that had not been sorted for the last move!!

Facebook was definitely my saving grace for this house move. A lovely man called Ade took box upon box of Martin and Ryan’s old computer bits to be used to rebuild PCs for good causes. And a lovely lady called Zoe took a few van loads off for the Shaw Trust which saved us doing even more visits to charity shops.

Removal day was hectic. 6 lads flew up and down and stairs carrying two boxes a time – every time I turned around someone would be grabbing something that was supposed to be staying, and my inventory system just went to pot. I was frazzled by the end of it – but not as worried as the dogs who were noticeably perturbed by the disappearance of all their familiar things.

Luka looking at the things dissapearing — “woof woof – I’d better be quick or I will be left behind”

Last item on was the tandem which is going to be turned into a garden decoration in France when we have a garden to decorate – hopefully that won’t be too long. As we peered in to the huge lorry we pondered on how empty it seemed – was our whole life’s worth of possessions really in there?

Anglo French removal truck — Enormous artic – too big to get down our road – they needed to do a shuttle run with a van – it only took two trips to load all our stuff!!

Friday evening, we had a few Gin and Tonics and Pizza with good friends, which was wonderful – just to relax and enjoy some laughs after the madness of the previous few days.

Then the few days between removal day and completion day was spent taking stuff to family members who are storing a few bits and spending some quality time with them before we headed off.

We were late to bed Sunday as I insisted on thoroughly cleaning the kitchen – including the oven, before we handed over the house, and we were up at the crack of dawn to carrying on with last minute packing and cleaning.

Noon came and went with no sign of completion – for which I was glad as we were still coming across cupboards that had stuff in. Suddenly I realised why the artic seemed so empty!! I was sure most of our stuff was still here. At least it seemed that way.

We were expecting carpet cleaners at 1200 but when they were also accompanied by professional house cleaners I could have spat feathers – after all the cleaning we had done!! The guy opened up the oven and said “it’s brand new” – “no I said, just the result of two hours of my husband’s life wasted” – why did no one tell us!! Never mind – at least no-one could say we are dirty!!

We panicked when the cleaners turned up, or should I say – I panicked – and started indiscriminately shoving stuff in the motorhome – completely filling up every last bit of space. We’re not the best “packers” at the best of times – but this was quite literally piled up. Just enough room for us to sit, and for the dogs to lay under the table – but the bed was full, the chairs were full, and every other bit of floor space was occupied.

I phoned mum in desperation and asked her to come over with her car so I could get some more stuff in her boot. We filled her car up, filled our car up and drove round to her house. Much to the amusement of everyone living at her sheltered accommodation I had “borrowed” an ASDA trolley to wheel the boxes up to her flat – where I sorted out things the best I could.

In my head, I had imagined our last day at our home of nearly 10 years to be somewhat more serene. Handing over the keys to the excited new owners, we would slowly drive up the road in our tortoise-like home, waving to our neighbours (who would of course have gathered around to bid us farewell) and as we sailed off into the sunset we would be smiling, happy, in anticipation of achieving all our hearts could desire.

The reality………………….me nearly having a meltdown at my mums, realising at the last minute that we had no dog food so a rush to pets at home, a frantic dumping off of stuff at Lisa’s including piling up of stuff in the bedroom for Sian that she had no idea was coming to her!!

Dumped at Lisa's — Poor Sian arrived to find all this

Then……………..a horrible rush hour drive to Folkestone, too late now to stop over to visit James, Nicola, Henry and Chloe. Arrival at Le Shuttle to find the duty free closed so no new bottle of gin for me. An attempt to sleep a bit in the driver and passenger seat (remember – no room on the bed you see) – the prospect of four-hour delays – then not…so do we sleep or not? Let’s not chance it.

We finally pulled over to stop somewhere in France at 0330 – shifted enough of the stuff on the bed to allow two very weary bodies to collapse and sleep for a few hours (fully clothed in my case and I kept the same clothes on for another day afterwards – yuk!)

Day Two was, after a very yummy breakfast, more driving – still both feeling a little shell shocked really. Too tired to feel the excitement. This chapter of our adventure has tested our relationship to its limits – there were many cross words said. Conversations surrounding whose fault it was that this didn’t get packed and this didn’t happen – marital bickering at it’s best (or worst).

Day Three – the tightly coiled springs that we had become slowly started to unwind and we began to have a laugh at funny things, to sing along to songs on the French radio. I did some driving – three hours’ worth in fact. Over a lovely lunch we came up with a cunning plan to drop off some stuff at the storage barn to relieve the over occupancy issue – and all seemed well again – TEAM MARSHA (half Martin, half Sharon) was functioning again.

Lunch time picnic — Being exhausted is no excuse to not serve up something lovely for our roadside lunch

The barn was huge!! Dry, and secure, and thankfully no smell of tobacco at all (this had been my fear for the last month). We were more than happy to store our possessions here so we very unceremoniously sorted out stuff on the grass verge at the road.

A misplaced I-Pod was the catalyst for a monumental melt down on my part, and all the emotions that I had been bottling up for the past few days came out in great, huge, gulping sobs – the kind that frighten anyone who hears (I suspect Martin scurried back up to the barn when he heard me) – but once the frustration, and emotions were out things seemed much better again. I needed that cry – it’s a big step we are taking, and for someone like me who doesn’t find it easy to give up any amount of control over her life – everything that’s happened during this process has seemed very overwhelming.

Then onwards we drove, until ………….at last, very tired and extremely hungry – we finally pulled in to the, by now very familiar, car park at the lake in Villefranche du Perigord.

Nous sommes arrive – we have arrived!

©Sharon Rees-Williams – wordpress.com/thislittlepieceof.land, 2018

Are we ready for this?

Ready Wow! Such a mixture of emotions this week. Every day it seemed we were told we might be ready to exchange contracts and then there was this delay and that delay.

Martin needed to take charge of all communications completely as I was ready to spit feathers at any of the solicitors involved if I was to get to speak to them. And of course, that wouldn’t get us anywhere.

Then, yesterday after thinking it would never happen we got the call to say we had finally exchanged contracts. It was such a relief!! Then of course the panic of knowing we really do only have a week left to pack and of that week Martin is away for 3 days sorting out things with Marsha (the motorhome).

So, it’s tense around here. I am non stop packing, Martin’s life is a constant cycle of driving to the tip and charity shops. Sian is abandoning ship a week earlier and moving her things out so she can get settled back into her A Level Revision time table as quickly as possible. I don’t blame her – it’s been weeks since any of us could sit on a comfy chair and watch TV consecutively (it’s either one or the other). I can’t imagine not seeing her cheeky little face every morning – yet, I’ve known for a long while now that I will lose her to University this Autumn so I have resigned myself to that. It doesn’t stop me sneaking a little tear every now and then though. When Ryan went off to Uni nearly 6 years ago, I cried frequently and didn’t sleep properly for weeks. It’s all part of being a mum.

Martin has been to the tip 10 times in 9 days – he knows this as there is a display showing when he enters the tip – he’s worried in case there is a maximum number of visits. I have a plea to make if necessary – “we haven’t been much at all in nearly 10 years Sir, it’s just that we are taking all our visits in one go Sir” – we really have been the most dreadful hoarders. Every box that comes down from the loft reveals things long forgotten, mostly totally useless, and we wonder if we should just have paid someone to take it all away – un-opened.

However…..for as much rubbish as is revealed – there have also been a few treasures. For instance – a whole load of gold jewellery that I no longer wear, or would even want to wear as I switched to silver when Martin and I had platinum wedding rings (yeah yeah, I would have loved to have had all platinum but…..). And also, cards from my dad, words which reassure me that although he was a man who found it hard to express his emotions, he did love me, and was really keen for us to come and visit them in France and also words of appreciation to Martin for all the help he gave him in his final months.

The mislaid folder of photos and notes from my lovely Auntie Maureen was also found, just in time for the visit last week from our American cousins Doug and Lorraine, and it was so lovely to be able to show them these and reminisce.

So, there is a lot to be said for hoarding stuff. But still, it has to be sorted and so I know I must cull some of it and decide what is really important. I’m taking a few boxes of memories out to France and when I have time on my hands (which I hope may be sometime fairly soon) I’ll make some lovely collages of special cards to put up on the wall instead of tucking them away never to be seen again.

This very thorough way of packing has meant it has taken an absolute age to get packed – and we are still not done!! There is loads to do!! We quite simply are not ready…but we will be. Just the same as Sian is ready to embark on the next stage of her life (although she might not realise that quite yet) and we are ready to start the adventure of our life, come next Friday – when the removal vans arrive – our lives, neatly packed up in boxes, will be ready to be taken 720 miles away to the place where the next stage of our journey begins.

map

Exciting times….and at last I can dare to believe that it is really happening

And we are as ready as we will ever be for as Hugh Laurie very wisely says – “there is almost no such thing as ready – there is only now””.

©Sharon Rees-Williams – wordpress.com/thislittlepieceof.land, 2018

The F Word

Well two F Words actually…and not the one you might think it is.

First of all, F R U S T R A T I O N

Frustration

Frustration at a system that is so slow…. but at the same time knowing that part of the appeal of moving to a tiny village in the South of the Dordogne is the slow pace of life.

We’ve been trying to progress the transfer of ownership for the land since October last year, and it’s taking ages. It’s not enough to say that you are one of three siblings – we need to prove it. And the only way to do that is to have a Genealogy report. So, eventually after a few small hiccups – we thought that we had that in hand during our February trip.

French letter So, a few days ago we got really excited when a letter arrived with a French post mark on it. We anticipated that inside would be a report confirming that my dad had not sown his seeds elsewhere. But, upon opening the said letter imagine our dismay that it was quite simply a letter stating that now we had sent the forms off (yeah we done that AGES ago!!!) they now had everything needed to send this off to their branch office to deal with!! Grrr!! I wonder how many months this next stage of the process will take.

Patience is a virtue as they say, and our skills in this area are being honed to perfection at the moment. Especially mine…. I am not the world’s most patient person at the best of times and certainly not at the moment.

Add to this the delays in exchanging contracts on our house sale caused by the middle solicitor picking up on something that should have been spotted 2 months ago…. yes, it is fair to say that we are feeling the FRUSTRATION

But, on a more position note the other F Word I wanted to write about is FRIENDSHIP.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of coffees, camping trips and dog walks, whilst I try and catch up with all sorts of people in an attempt to say Au Revoir to people before we leave. So, these friendships have been the focus of my mind for the past week or so.

One of the things I have loved so much about France is how easily friendships form. Whereas it might take months, or even years for the slow burn of acquaintanceship to simmer into a friendship in the slightly stuffier confines of a typically British small town/ large village, such as Chandlers Ford. In comparison, in France, we have made, are making friends all the time with every trip. It’s different, very different, and I was describing this today to my friend who I had met for a dog walk. There’s a common ground with the ex-pats in the French village and surrounding areas – a sense of all being in it together. So, people seem much more willing to get straight in there and help people out, and invite them for coffee, and give them lifts and all sorts of things. Stuff that you might wait a long time before doing in the UK. Even in my “mum at the school gate” years where I made friends very easily, it was never so fast and furious!! But these days I am too old for the school gate, but also too young for the U3A so it’s proved to be quite hard to form friendships in the place that has been home for nearly a decade.

community

But in France I love the ease with which that common bond brings people together in a lovely sense of community and neighbourliness.

With the French people, we have found that once they realise you are moving over there to live and will be an integral part of their community they are really warm and friendly, and welcome you with open arms.

So, even though our time in France has so far been a small number of short (but ever increasing durations of time) trips we have started to make friends with all sorts of wonderful people.

Today’s friend (a previous work colleague) and I talked about how the UK has lots of support groups and volunteering, whereas in France this sort of thing is virtually non-existent and we concluded that this is because it’s not needed because there is such a strong sense of community. It’s so true – every one helps each other out in whatever ways they can. Our lovely friend, who at 70 something has help in various ways from her friends and neighbours, also helps out a much younger friend who cannot get to the shops at the moment through her own ill health.

It’s all about Karma, Pay Forward, whatever you like to call it – you do a good deed and someone will do one for you.

So, we can’t wait to get over there and fully embrace the community life which we know is waiting for us.

But first, we have those small issues of frustration to contend with….hopefully this coming week will bring some good news of progress!!

©Sharon Rees-Williams – wordpress.com/thislittlepieceof.land, 2018

All bound for Mu-Mu Land

Something freakin’ awesome just happened this morning!! My partner in crime, soul-mate, best friend, bed-partner, recipient of my many pranks, Martin aka Gruffalo – just retired!! Woo hoo!!!

After 27 years of a life revolving around reporting for duty at Fawley Oil Refinery (preceded by 14 years of being told precisely what to do in his Army Career) Martin can now choose exactly what to do with his days!! Yee ha!!!

Surprising Martin seems to have accumulated very little in his desk space at work, and despite me fearing he would need a removal truck to bring all his junk home all he had was this box!!

So, Martin being able to choose how he spends his days also means that I can now do exactly what I want to do, as I have been keeping myself busy and occupied with my holistic therapies small (very small) business making sure that I can choose to work when I wish to, and have the flexibility to do whatever fits in around Martin’s work.

And now he has no work!! So, nothing to fit around!! We can do whatever we want to do when we want to do it!! Freakin’ Awesome!!

Since putting in his notice Martin has begun to chill out significantly!! This has been noticed by other people and commented on. It’s also been noticed by me that he has become slightly more liberal in his choice of “party attire” which was witnessed last weekend at our friends Deb and Chris’s party. Not only did Gruffs wear his brightly coloured flowery shirt, he also agreed that colouring the grey bits of his beard blue would be a great idea!! Love it!! I done bits of my hair blue to match!! Love that too!!

Deb and Chris throw amazing parties – they have the most interesting house I have ever been in to. Every nook and cranny is full of something weird or whacky. To illustrate – I nipped to the upstairs toilet and put my hand in first to pull the light on – and realised I was pulling on a Dolls Leg – eeek!! In the downstairs loo Corpse Barbie and Ken can be found making out in some perverted position. So, yes – great parties – which involve the back end of the garden having a fire pit, and a bit of a jamming session and sing song going on with the more musically able of the guests, and their living room being transformed in to a Disco Room – complete with flashing Disco Lights and slippery dance floor.

Martin is usually known to just stand quietly and observe, but on this occasion his imminent retirement situation seemed to have chilled him out somewhat and he ventured in to the Disco Room with me. We had a great boogie – fantastic fun, but when the track being played ended we had a hilarious 5 minutes whilst the 5 of us “50 plus somethings” attempted to find another track on the lap-top – all of us blind as bats without our reading glasses. The song we were trying to find was KLF – Justified and Ancient!!

It was very surreal and very funny and reiterated that this is what happens when the Bowie and Bolan era retire – we will not be going to our care homes all biddable and agreeable “yes nurse no nurse 3 bags full nurse”!! Hell no!! We will be wanting day trips out to AC/DC gigs and selling our prescription medication on the Internet!!

So back to that song!! I haven’t heard that for years – probably not since 1991 when it was released!! But it’s been brain worming into my head all week!! The song is about living in an ice cream van, roaming the land, no master plan, and all bound for Mu-Mu Land.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPjggN-KByI

And that just about sums us up now!!

We have our van and we are about to embark on our new adventures. First step will be to put down some roots in France, and whilst doing that we have plans to travel around the parts of Europe that we have not yet been able to reach around the constraints of work.

Justified!! Ancient!!! and All bound for Mu-Mu Land!! (Well off to the New Forest camping actually).

©Sharon Rees-Williams – wordpress.com/thislittlepieceof.land, 2018

Feels like home

You’ll remember from reading The Back Story that I had the weirdest feeling of “coming home” when we first headed towards Villefranche-du-Perigord in July 2017.

On the journey from the point of Frayssinet le Gelat onwards I kept seeing things that were triggering strong emotions, until by the time we drove into the village and pulled up in the car park by the lake it just felt like we were home. Over the coming days this feeling increased in magnitude for many reasons, some completely inexplicable some more easily explained.

I’ve always liked France, but never had the strong compulsion to live there, not like my frequent whims to live in the Canary Islands, or Spain – every time we went on holiday somewhere I would want to look at house prices and sell up and move to a new life. But this was different, it felt much more like coming back to a place that I belonged.

We met up with Carole and Bernard twice in the July visit, firstly for afternoon tea and cakes when it was just lovely to sit with them and reminisce about the times we visited them with Dad and Ann, and their very strong friendship they had with them. And then we were invited for Saturday night dinner, where we met Carol and Craig – another English couple. By Saturday evening we had made so many enquiries with the Notaire, Immobilier and Maire that we had loads to tell Carole and Bernard and as we told the four of them I found myself listening to the words coming out of my mouth. It was so strange because the ideas were evolving in my head as I verbalised it, and plans for doing this, that and the other were quite literally unfolding as I spoke.

I hadn’t really fully considered the prospect of actually building a home to live in and moving to France up until this point – just the concept of getting the land ownership in the right place was the priority up until that point (currently it is in limbo land – Ann dying first left it to Dad, and there was no time to complete a transfer of ownership in the short 2 months before he then died).

But as we spoke, both Martin and myself, to Carol and Bernard (who had their own very magical memories of the land), and to Carol and Craig (who both thought it all sounded brilliant), our own dreams began.

We also met Pierre – our immediate neighbour on this trip. See plots 467, 468 and 383 on the map – that’s his land – 17, 18 and 19 are our lands or “the land” as we were referring to it at this time.

The dogs had been running around and not having any boundaries between the plots of land, had ventured over to Pierre’s plot. His young daughter, Lucy Luna, had been a bit scared and so he had wondered over to see who these people were. Luckily Pierre speaks English quite well (far better than our French which is not difficult) and we were able to explain who we were. I asked him if he remembered Dad and Ann, and he said he had never met them, but he had heard tales of this old English couple who had worked on the land but had disappeared suddenly. I explained that they had both died, having never even started to build. Pierre asked our plans for the land, saying that he had friends who might be interested in buying it to increase their community (more about Pierre’s family in another post but they are the loveliest family, who live a very eco-friendly, simple, sustainable existence). The feelings of possessiveness came back to me again, as had happened a few days before when we found the wrong plot and thought someone had built on “our” land, again reinforcing that feeling of needing to do something. I told Pierre that we were going to go back to England and think about our options but would definitely be doing something. He said, in his lovely, gentle, soft voice that he would be very pleased to have us as his neighbours, and that his mother Alice would be ecstatic!! We asked why and he explained that she speaks perfect English and yearns for people to speak English to. We didn’t get the opportunity to meet Alice as she was away, but we felt really pleased with the prospect of perhaps living in a place when we wouldn’t feel too much like outsiders coming in.

Still, at that point we did not have the firm, concrete plans that we do now – it was all just feelings, ideas, dreams – popping into our heads.

The romantic notion of pursuing something that Dad and Ann had set out to do before their dreams were cut short was definitely pulling at the heart strings. It felt so utterly unfair that not even one of them had lived for long enough to see even foundations put down on “this little piece of land”.

Strange as it seems, I felt, and still do now all the time, feel more connected to my father there on the land than I ever did when he was alive. It’s as if I feel his spirit rustling in the trees. We never had the relationship that I would have wanted when he was alive, for many reasons, and for no-ones and everyone’s fault in equal measures. But here, on this little piece of land, in this lovely French village, nestled in the very bottom jigsaw shape piece of the Dordogne/Lot border I felt as if I wanted to carry on their dreams in honour of them. But equally, it was more than wanting to continue their dreams, we began to want to do it for ourselves too.

We stalled our return home for a few days as we just couldn’t tear ourselves away, and instead of visiting a few more places we stayed a few more nights. Before we left we placed some flowers in a make do vase, cable tied to the tree that marks the beginning of the land. The words on it are simple – “RIP Dad and Ann – Forever in Your Dream Home”. They might not have achieved their dream house, but this place was definitely their “Dream Home”.

I left there thinking that it won’t really matter what we end up doing on the land – if it is just a concrete hand standing with electric and water so that we can park Marsha the Motorhome on that will be fine but a little wooden house would be lovely.

Once back in the UK we had discussions with James about the finer points of how we could progress this – and came up with a way forward. I think we could all see the benefit in us doing something with it, they can visit with the children and we can all enjoy the beautiful space that meant so much to Dad and Ann.

The words of the beautiful song that we chose as one of our Wedding pieces “Feels like home” by Chantal Kreviazuk resonate very strongly with me in connection with this land.

I feel happier here than anywhere else in my whole life, settled, calm, comfortable. Luckily, Martin feels very similarly to me – he has lots of fond memories of visiting Dad and Ann also, and both of us are so soppy and sentimental about both of our Dad’s that he makes the same sort of connections.

We have found our forever home – and can’t wait to begin to put our own stamp on it.

©Sharon Rees-Williams – wordpress.com/thislittlepieceof.land, 2018

Parlez vous Anglais?

Google translate conversation July 2017 #2

During our visits to Dad and Ann whilst they were living in Villefranche-du-Perigord one of the things that Martin and I had found quite amusing was the way in which a lot of Brits tackle the language barrier.

This post will be best appreciated if you can read parts of it (ideally out loud) with a French accent in the style of the 1980’s sit-com ‘Allo ‘Allo. You’ll soon realise which parts to read like this.

So, one morning Ann and I walked down to the Boulangerie, where she proudly showed me how her French conversation was improving.

Ann “Bonjour Madame”.

Shopkeeper: “Bonjour Madame, Ca va”

Ann “Un pain, s’il vous plait”.

So far, so good, the shopkeeper got the required loaf of bread, and I was indeed impressed.

But then…Ann suddenly started moving her hand up and down in a chopping, hacking like movement, whilst simultaneously saying quite loudly and forcefully “Tranche! Tranche!”. By doing this, all I can assume is that she was trying to reinforce the French word for “sliced”, to a French native, by performing a little bit of mime – all to hilarious effect!!

This story gave us a few giggles over the years, but little did I know back then that I would be equally as primitive in my use of the ‘beautiful language’.

So, in July 2017 when we were first making enquiries about how to proceed with acquiring the land we have gained some amusing tales of our own.

First off – the trip to the Notaire. It’s interesting how English people have a habit of asking if the French person speaks English, and then whatever their response is, simply proceeding in English but in a French accent. Much like this:

Candice (the Notaire’s secretary): “Bonjour Madame”.

Sharon: Bonjour, au revoir. Comment allez vous?” (hello, goodbye, how are you)?

Candice: Unspoken but probably thought “oh, she’s English – shit!!!” Smiles sweetly.

Sharon: “Parlez vous Anglais?”

Candice: “Non”

Sharon: “Je ne parle Francais. Just a little bit” – (demonstrates with fingers how much a little bit is).

Just a little bit photo

Stalemate!! Nothing is said for a few moments. Then…..

Sharon: English words with French accent “My father, he owned terrain, up there (points to up the outside of the village). He is mort. My step-maman Ann, she and him, owned the terrain and now are mort”.

Candice: Stunned silence.

Sharon: “Je desiree comprendez what can be done for us to buy the terrain”.

Candice: We are not entirely sure what she said but it was quite likely something along the lines of

Parlez vous Anglais Photo 1

This conversation went on in a similar way, and after a while we established a number of things:

We have approximately 1% of the language skills required to progress with this project without assistance from a French speaking person
We probably could buy the land
The next person to speak to was the Immobilier (Estate Agent) and then the Maire (Mayor)

So, next stop was the Immobilier. Same story – “Parlez vous Anglais” “Non”….followed by my attempt to speak English in a French accent.

The Immobilier was very friendly, and I could tell he was trying to get the gist of what I was saying, but not really getting it. Eventually he said “un moment” and reached under his desk, pulled out a tablet, started to type. I thought he had maybe lost the will to live so much that he would crack on with his work, but no, he turned it around and lo and behold!! Google Translate!! We both laughed and he handed it to me to type my questions.

I managed to explain most of the story this way. Meanwhile, un-beknown to me, Martin had been outside sitting with the dogs and as often happens, he had been chatted up by an English lady (to be honest it’s the dogs that get the attention but I like to indulge him this fantasy). He had explained our situation to her and told her that I was on my own, attempting to converse with the Immobilier. So, suddenly she appeared inside – I had no idea who she was (or that she was English) – and started speaking fluent French, very fast and passionately!! I assumed it was a completely irrelevant conversation until I heard my name and also Martin’s name. I then said “did you just mention me and my husband?” and she then suddenly changed to English and told me who she was, promptly sat down and proceed to translate the conversation.

Things progressed rapidly then. I told Amanda who then told the Immobilier what I was trying to achieve. In this manner we managed to establish the approximate value of the land etc. All was going very well until we told him that we wished to purchase the land and build a small wooden cabin on it in which to live. This seemed to be met with stunned silence. Not sure why, we repeated this a few times. The Immobilier was still looking very confused. We went back to Google Translate and then realised the problem. Amanda was telling him I wanted to build a wooden cabin on the land, and he was misunderstanding this as my wanting to build a wooden cabinet (toilet) in the woods and live in it. Naturally he was puzzled why someone would want to do this.

This caused lots of laughs amongst the three of us. The whole situation was surreal actually. Sitting there, trying to communicate with someone who spoke less English than I speak French, a random stranger coming in to help, the whole thing was all a bit bizarre – but in a good way – I mean this sort of thing is not likely to happen in Chandlers Ford is it?

We left this conversation secure in the knowledge that if we did nothing with the land it would fall into wasteland and if there were to be a fire we might be liable, but also a clear idea of what our plans could be, and a real sense of what a bonkers life we were going to

have in Villefranche-du-Perigord

The Back Story

The Back Story

Rewind to August 2008 – my Dad turned 70 and finally made the decision to give up work and follow his and Ann’s (my lovely step-mum) dream of moving to France. Their house in Frinton went up for rent, they disposed of pretty much all of their belongings and made plans to set off Dans Le Continent in his dated old Volvo.

After some months of exploring their favourite region of France – The Dordogne – they fell in love with Villefranche-du-Perigord and decided that this was “the place”. They rented out a holiday let – La Borie Grande in the outskirts of Villefranche-du-Perigord – whilst they searched for a suitable plot of land to build a house.

To cut a long story short – a fair few months of searching and also a change of rental property to “David” in Lavaur (just outside Villefranche-du-Perigord) (very ironic as Dad’s name is David) they found their dream plot of land through new found friends Bernard and Carole.

Martin and I visited them out in France a few times – and we could see why they loved Villefranche du Perigord so much – it really is the most magical of villages – it’s actually a 12^th and 13^th Century Bastide Town – so there any many original buildings which resemble mini castles with their turrets and gothic arches. It’s stunning!! Even so, we did find it a bit “sleepy” for us, so we firmly “parked” any ideas that popped in to our heads about ourselves making the move over there.

As well as our visits out to them in France, Dad and Ann also popped back to the UK frequently and stayed with us. On one of these occasions they showed us the outline plans they had for the plot of land that had found, both so excited about their plans – but especially Dad. He wanted to spend hours on the Internet looking for small wooden self-build houses as that was what they had planned for the plot. It all sounded really idyllic and we planned to visit them out in France again that coming summer so we could see for ourselves.

When we visited them, we stayed with them at “David” – camping in our Landrover’s roof tent whilst the kids stayed in the house with them, and they took us out and about to all the surrounding towns and markets, and also a few times to show us the land. When we first saw the land, I have to be perfectly honest and say that I thought they were completely bonkers!!! Perhaps it was the way they drove us in through back roads, or maybe it was the slow speed of Ann’s driving (she was renowned for crawling along nervously like a snail bless her) but we left there with the perception it was miles away from anywhere. We were concerned that they would get old and immobile and be living in the middle of the sticks and starve to death in the Winter. But we said nothing as their excitement and passion for their project was so clear and apparent – why spoil that? – I never saw my Dad so happy about anything in his life as when he talked about “the land”.

Dad and Ann had cleared the top part of the land really well when we saw it, and we could envisage their plans for where the house would go. But the lower part of the plot was still like a jungle, and me with my terrible fear of creepy crawlies, found it really difficult making the steep climb downhill through bushes towards the old ruined buildings. Dad’s enthusiasm for these two buildings however was equal to my horror at them. I did politely go down for a quick viewing of the large one, but once I saw huge cobwebs on the lintels I declined a quick peep inside and hastily made my way back up.

We did leave France thinking that what they were doing was all very lovely, but a bit crazy to say the least!!

So, over the next few years they worked really hard on clearing the land, chopping down a few small trees, but for various reasons they needed to make frequent trips back to the UK – not least due to Dad’s reluctance to get his old Volvo re-registered under a French plate which meant he had to get his insurance renewed every 90 days. It was slow progress….it seemed that they were over there for a few months chopping it all down, and then back in the UK for a few months and it would all grow back so they would start from scratch. They had not sold their house in the UK so did not yet have the funds to start the building work, but they did have outline plans and the water and electricity in situ ready to go. And they had also built a really lovely life over there with lots of new friends and seemed to be having a fantastic time.

Until disaster struck!! And as Dr Sods bloody infallible law would have it, on one of the trips home Dad went for the investigation of a long term persistent cough – and got the worst type of unimaginable news – he had Stage 4 Lung Cancer!! The treatment plan was to see how he responded to chemotherapy – with little hope of cure but at best to prolong his life. But the realistic prognosis was “without treatment 2 months – with treatment 12 months”.

Ann made the call to tell me that, and as usual she remained upbeat and positive but I could tell that she was really devastated. We visited them that weekend and all I can say is that from that point forward I witnessed my Dad die inside. He knew it was “Game Over” for him, and I think all he really focussed on was having some chemo so he could get back out there to get the house built so Ann would have somewhere lovely to live once he was gone. Realistically we all knew that this would not be likely.

So, his treatment in the UK commenced. Their Frinton house was sold to release the capital to buy a mobile home in Margate so Ann would have somewhere close by to James, Nicola, and Henry (their son, daughter in law and grandchild).

Then in April 2013 double whammy hit us hard straight in the balls!! Ann went for a long overdue check-up for some “woman’s health issues” and came away with the devastating news that she had Stage 4 Ovarian Cancer. I don’t think any of us could believe this!! Life is just so cruel.

Ann’s illness was very short lived, she didn’t respond well to chemotherapy and her treatment was palliative pretty much straight away. Dad died even more inside but you could tell he was holding on to hope that she would get better, and in some sort of denial in that he didn’t want to see her in hospital.

Nothing will ever imprint on my heart as much as the conversation I had with my Dad when I needed to persuade him to go and see her in the hospital that day as if he didn’t he wouldn’t see her again. As it finally sunk in, I saw the life literally drain out of him.

Ann died a few days later.

Dad gave his last breath on this earth, two months later – in August 2013

Their dreams for “this little piece of land” gone forever

Fast Forward to July 2017

None of us had been able to face visiting the land after they died. It all seemed too sad. It also seemed a bit worrying that nothing had been done about disposing of the land and we thought maybe there could be some bills to pay, maybe fines for not sorting things out.

Time passed and then in the spring of 2017 Martin and I made some plans to take Marsha the motorhome to the Alps, then on to the Pyrenees for our summer trip. We looked at the return route and it seemed conceivable that we could hang by Villefranche du Perigord and check out how things were. James was happy for us to do this.

So, after a fantastic few weeks in Chamonix then Northern Spain we headed back up. As we got closer to Villefranche du Perigord I started to feel more and more sentimental, thinking more and more about Dad and Ann, and their plans, and what a shame it was that they had never realised those dreams. The final leg of the journey was familiar and brought back loads of memories. When we pulled up at the car park by the lake it all came back to me, and strangely it really felt like I was coming home. This place that I had only been to a handful of times really felt special to me. We had arrived quite late in the day and were hungry so spent the evening walking the dogs, preparing and eating dinner and simply gazing up at the trees in what we thought was the right direction of where the land was.

In the morning we were up bright and early, keen to walk up to see if our memory would serve us well enough to find our way up the tracks to the land. The road seemed familiar but having never walked up it (Ann had driven us on the few times we visited) we were not sure. We had spoken to Bernard the previous day and he said to go up to a hair pin and turn left. The first left seemed to be not sharp enough and too close to the village to be the right track, so we went much further up the road, it all felt familiar, but not quite right. Then we spotted a half-finished house and for a horrible moment I thought that someone else had simply taken over the land. My heart sank and I felt suddenly very possessive of what had been before simply a recce to check things out – now it was a real mission to find it.

We went back down the track, and frustrated thought we had got the completely wrong place, but then decided to go up to the first left hand turn. Wandering up the track we commented on how it felt familiar, but still not sure. Reaching the end of the track and coming across overgrown woodland we thought we had simply reached a dead end. But slowly the realisation dawned – this could be the plot of land – albeit heavily over grown. It was the most overwhelming feeling – our hearts sank – this was a complete jungle – and we were not even sure we were in the right place. Standing, scanning the brambles in front of us, not quite sure what to do, I suddenly spotted a little bit of red through the trees, and on closer inspection realised it was a Propertie Privee sign. Memories flooded back and I remembered seeing photos of my dad standing next to this sign – nailed in to the huge oak tree. It was so emotional, suddenly realising that here we were – stood on the far edge of Dad and Ann’s beloved plot of land, feeling the echoes of their dream, but so, so sad that this little piece of land had not been loved and cherished for over 3 years and had been left for nature to take it back.

I can’t speak for Martin but I know that I made the decision in my heart there and then in that moment that I would do whatever it takes to get this little piece of land back to its former glory. Although my head was telling me otherwise at the time.

So, at that point in time we weren’t sure exactly what to do, or how to do it, but we knew we couldn’t just do nothing anymore. Speaking to James later that day he gave us his blessing and agreement to find out what needed to be done to get the land ownership sorted out so that something could be done to sort it out.

And that is the moment in time when “this little piece of land” ceased to be David and Ann’s tragically unrealised dream, and became Martin and Sharon’s new, different but equally magical dream of our own.

Teaser…………

Watch this space, as soon we will be embarking on a complete change of lifestyle.

Selling up our UK home, bidding farewell to the life we have known for many years, and moving to France to fulfil our dream of building a house on ‘this little piece of land’.