10 years on

St Thomas

It was 10 years ago today that we finalised the purchase of this place.

We had taken an overnight crossing from Portsmouth to Le Havre (can't do that now) and we drove down on a very hot day to arrive at the estate agent's in time to get to the notaire before they closed for the weekend.

We had been unable to get a firm answer to our questions as to what furniture may be left in the property we had just bought. There may have been some or none. When we had last seen the house it was full of very old, heavy, dark French furniture. We remembered several large dressers (it was probably only one), at least three double beds in the two bedrooms, a kitchen full of tables, cupboards and an empty Grandfather clock (the house had been broken into and the workings of the clock stolen), and lots of knick-knacks including many crucifixes on the walls.

And so we had packed into our car everything we thought we could get by on if the house was completely empty. This included an inflatable double bed which we had used for camping - the camp cooker and the entire contents of a kitchen as we were pretty sure there would be nothing there - we had been buying plates and cutlery from charity shops and had gathered old bedding, cushions and a million other bits and pieces from home and from our families.

We were surprised on arrival at the estate agency to be told that 'our' agent was out with other clients and we had to go straight to the bank. We weren't told why and my French wasn't quite as good in those days as it is now (sometimes). However, we went across the road to the bank where we were told to wait until our advisor was available. As we were waiting 'our' agent, Madame A arrived and was able to explain all in English. We had to sign our insurance documents for the building and contents before we could sign the papers for the house purchase.

We went in to the advisor's office and passed a very cheerful half hour talking about this and that before the business was concluded. I had been carefully checking my watch as I knew we were expected at the notaire's office but obviously Madame A had sorted all the timings out in advance..... Perhaps.

She drove round the corner to the notaire's office with us following in our own car. There we met Monsieur M, the vendor and his grand-daughter, a perky little 7 year old girl. I wasn't quite sure why she was in on the purchase meeting, but then the French do things differently as we have discovered over the years.

The five of us squeezed into Maitre L's office, granddaughter perching on Monsieur M's lap. The notaire, a lady, then read the entire house deeds to us in French, pausing occasionally to throw in the odd word in English in case we needed it. 'Blah-di-blah-di-blah-di-blah. Ze 'ouse. Blah-di-blah-di-blah-di-blah zat ees your land'.

I did, actually understand most of what she was reading - well, the words, that is but not necessarily the exact meaning of all the jargon.

When we had signed everything necessary and paid over yet another huge cheque to the estate agent the meeting was concluded and everyone went outside for a chat. Notaire, Monsieur M and Madame A discussed Maitre L's forthcoming holiday - to begin in about 5 minutes time, how things had changed in each of the villages, what was going on in Gourdon over the summer....... Finally Monsieur M felt in his pockets and pulled out a huge bunch of keys which he handed over to Jon with great pride. He must have been so relieved to be shot of this house of his mother's which had, apparently, been on the market for 5 years.

We then returned in convoy in our three cars to the estate agency where we were soon joined by Madame M - she had been in the hairdressers all this time treating herself to a new look. Monsieur M was dismayed when the agent said that she would not be coming back to our house with us but was abandoning us to Monsieur M entirely.

We were surprised that he wanted to come back with us, this is not what one is used to in the UK. However, he obviously wanted to show us how to unlock the doors and how things worked. On the way down to our new home he stopped off at his own house and emerged triumphant with a set of curtain rings for the shower curtain explaining that they had just washed it that morning but forgot to return the rings with the curtain.

We finally pulled up at our 'home' four hours after arriving at the estate agent's office. Our heads were pounding and we were desperate for a cup of tea or at least a glass of water but Monsieur M insisted on showing us around. 'This is how the door unlocks, it can stick sometimes', 'Here is a bed that we have left you and there is some bedlinen in this cupboard for you to use this weekend until the shops open on Monday'.

Upstairs, they had only left us a bed.

And the shower curtain!

Downstairs we were led into the kitchen where we were pleased to see a table and chairs and two cookers (yes two). We were advised not to use the electric one as electricity is very, very expensive, Madame.

With an imagined fanfare of trumpets Monsieur M then threw open the kitchen cupboard doors and proudly indicated the contents of the cupboard - just about anything anyone could ever need in a kitchen and a few other things besides. Plates, bowls, several coffee makers, espresso cups and all manner of pots and pans were crammed inside and we didn't dare mention the contents of the back of our car.

Outside we were shown that the garage had not yet been emptied but Monsieur M had arranged for the Red Cross to come and collect it all on Monday, he hoped this wouldn't disturb us too much. Not at all. If we wanted to keep anything we saw in the garage then all we need do is put it to one side and he would prevent the Red Cross from taking it away.

Finally he pointed out to us that he had arranged for someone to cut the grass that morning and was pleased to see that the garden looked reasonably tidy and he went on his way.

At last, five hours now from arriving, we were alone in our 'place in France'. It was three months since we had first and last seen it, and we were relieved to find that it was just as we had imagined all those months.

We really can't believe that all this was 10 years ago, even though we have only been living here for 17 months full time. Occasionally we wander round and remember what the walls were like, what ghastly wallpaper was on the stairs and the sitting room walls, how the place smelled damp after being empty for so long and how long the grass was.

Now it feels like a home. Well, OK sometimes a building site but even so, a home.

I wonder what it will look like 10 years from now. Very different I suspect.