La fête du premier mai

01 May 2013

On la fete du premier mai (1 May, Labour Day), we bought sprigs of muguet (lily-of-the-valley) and cards, in which we introduced ourselves and, armed with these tokens of friendship and neighbourliness, we went around knocking on the doors of our immediate neighbours in La Fromagerie. The gesture was very well received; most of our neighbours are elderly and all were chuffed to bits by our adoption of this old tradition of giving muguet.

Mme l'Echelle insisted on our coming in to have coffee in her hot, smoky kitchen. Her son, Jean-Marie, got out the china cups from the top cupboard and put biscuits on a plate, and we all sat and sipped on strong, sweet coffee and battled to understand each other's French. Then J-M took us across the road and gave us a guided tour of the fields around the barn. He seemed to know every tree, every plant, and it became clear that he was fond and proud of the place. He showed us the apple, pear, cherry and fig trees, as well as the walnut tree and grapevine, and he pointed out the rows of strawberries already showing tiny little fruits. He showed us how to prune the vine and the apple trees. And he suggested that the meadow could do with a trim!

Later that afternoon we were working hard on the ivy around the dependance; really working up a sweat, when the silence of the afternoon was disturbed by the voices of a bunch of people walking up the road. Several couples and a child working off their feast day lunch, we assumed. They stopped to talk to the neighbours and then, one by one, they came round the dependance to say hello. Turns out that one was Ivan, J-M's brother, and the second son of Mr and Mme l'Echelle, who, with his wife Edith and daughter Oceane, live in the next hamlet. They were all incredibly friendly and curious about our plans. I think they think that we're mad. Who in their right mind would spend money on a barn? Better to tear it down and build a new house!

Ivan insisted that we join them for dinner, to celebrate with them the holiday. So, after having cleaned up a little in the icy cold water of the puit nearby, we drove up the hill to the next hamlet.

That evening deserves its own post.

Getting to know you...

April/May 2012
G and I flew into Paris on Anzac Day (25 April) 2012. We stumbled our way across Paris to spend a very happy couple of hours (avec les viennoiseries) with our friend Christian before catching the lunchtime train to Brive. That train ride has become wonderfully familiar and strangely comforting after a long flight. We generally buy a sandwich (baguette with filling) and a drink from the station, settle back in our comfy seats, and, once the conductor has been past to check tickets, find the steady motion of the train soothes us off to sleep. The countryside slides by, and it's delicious. As is the baguette.

Once in Brive, we had merely to pull our trundle bags across the road to the Hotel de la Gare, where we spent the first night. Deep in the middle of the jet-lagged night, we woke to the sound of an alarm. Disorientated, I was sure it was G's phone. but it was in fact the fire alarm. We pulled on clothes and went downstairs to stand with the other bleary guests who were gathered on the street outside, smoking and discussing in quiet voices the possible cause. Meanwhile, the poor hotel owner/manager was dashing about, in and out of the kitchen. Eventually, the alarm went off and we all climbed the stairs to our rooms. I was a little concerned that just because the alarm had been silenced didn't necessarily mean it was safe...

We drove out to the barn the next morning and found it much the same, although of course Spring was in the air. The apple trees were in bloom, despite the assault of the ivy around their bases, the grass was tall and full of wild flowers, bees were buzzing and birds were chirruping. Mostly, though, it was the silence that made an impression. And at noon, the church bells of  nearby C completed my idyll.

We made the acquaintance of Manon, the fat cat who belongs to Mr and Mme l'Echelle (our name for the neighbour across the way, since we borrowed said l'echelle from them once upon a time). Manon loves to sleep in the long grass of our meadow, and she is most welcome.

Our days were filled with meetings (the plumber, the carpenter, the electrician, and two builders and Eleanor, who was drawing up our plans behind the scenes). We spent days in Mr Brico and LaPeyre, looking at doors and windows and baths and sinks and shutters and stuff. We collected catalogues to pore over at night in the Akena Brive (cheap, clean, comfortable, convenient - and free WI-Fi). We had a million picnics of beautiful bread and camembert, saucisson and fruit. We explored the area and fell in love once again with this beautiful corner of France.

We drove to Limoges a few times to sample the hospital system (long story - anti-rabies injections for me after an attack by a pack of dogs in Macau en route to France) and found it extremely efficient and reassuring.

We wandered around the Objat market, developed a nodding acquaintance with the guy in the Bar/Tabac in Objat, where we went for many a cup of thé vert. We ate at a great little pizzeria in Brive, hidden away down a cobbled lane. We explored le lac du Causse and met old friends for coffee.

As the weather started to warm up, we started to make an effort to clear the ivy from the little dependance at the side of the barn. We had been told by the agent that it was a four de pain, but a closer look inside revealed that it had been a chicken coop. It was difficult to see exactly what the structure was like since le lierre (ivy) had long ago smothered the roof.

"Warm and dry"

October 2011-April 2012
The next phase of the project involved designing our little barn; turning it into a cosy home-from-home. G 's mantra over several months (there are still faint echoes) was "it must be warm and dry". That was our baseline.

We were determined to keep costs and the impact on the external appearance to a minimum, so, to that end,  we kept the footprint exactly the same. Essentially, we wanted a ground floor with an open-plan lounge/eat-in kitchen and a small shower room. Upstairs, an open-plan bedroom and bathroom. We chose a stove/boiler for the back corner of the lounge and we decided to go for underfloor heating, double glazing everywhere and masses of insulation in walls and under the roof. We wanted polished concrete downstairs, wooden flooring upstairs. And we wanted windows, windows, windows - oh, and skylights too.

We chose to keep the massive barn doorway as our entrance, although, of course, we had to design a front door that would both make use of the height and width, and yet retain the potentially generous source of light. A tough one, and not a case of picking a door from a catalogue. Did I say we would keep costs to a minimum? Same deal for the stairs, though we figured they would have to wait: a ladder would suffice until further notice. The niceties of a real kitchen would be on the back burner too. With running water, a sink and a camp stove, we'll be fine for a few holidays. After all, this is our stone tent!

G got stuck in and taught himself to use Google SketchUp. What a great program. It allows you to see everything in 3D; to "walk around" or "into" the building. We spent hours and hours, and hours that summer, poring over the plans as they developed on-screen. It felt like we had been possessed. But in a nice way. Luckily G is a natural with things like precision drawing and measurements, practical details and thinking in 3D. If I'd had to design it, we would have ended a mound of papers, lots of rubbings out and maybe a rickety balsa wood-and-wool model on the dining-room table. As it was, after months of (literally) turning the design around, this way and that, we had a set of drawings for potential building contractors to view and base their devis on.

Using various websites aimed at English-speaking people living in France, G and I found some names of builders and a plumber. Thomas gave us the name of an electrician and a carpenter. It seems like there is a relatively small 'gene-pool' or network and they all seem to know each other... So, the next stage of the process was to email these guys and get an expression of interest from them.

Emails with the developing Google SketchUp plans flew back and forth to Eleanor, who began to work up the plans for submission to the council. G and I spent hours trying to choose the style, sizes and position of windows, skylights and doors, using the online catalogues of Lapeyre and Mr Brico. Latterly, we phoned Eleanor and discussed the finer details in real time. Much easier. 

In the weeks before our next trip (Spring 2012), we set up meetings on site with the builders, electrician, plumber and carpenter. Jet Lag was at every meeting, taking the minutes.

Hitting the ground running

G's visit to France in October 2011 was a blur of activity. His first weekend, he spent with his second cousin Jill and her husband John, in their beautiful home in the Dordogne. A soft landing indeed.

G met Veronique, the agent, first thing on the Monday morning and asked for permission to access the barn during the week, in anticipation of the actual exchange of ownership later in the week.

During that crazy week, G found time to meet with Thomas Moore, an English builder with whom he had exchanged a few emails. Thomas was able to provide a strong post to hold up the rotting huge oak lintel over the barn doors - obligation-free! He and G discussed our embryonic ideas for the barn, and intimated that it would be the kind of job he would happily take on. He and his wife live in a similar barn not far away.

Thomas's wife Eleanor would prove to be an invaluable resource. She prepares plans for submission to the Mairie and, being bilingual, is able to smooth all sorts of bumps in the road along the way...

G also found the time to speak to the Mairie in Chabrignac regarding the permis de construire, and the powers-that-be in Vignol about the fosse septique and came home with the requisite forms for both. He also measured and re-measured the barn, inside and out, so that we could begin to design the renovations.


On the second last day of his trip, G met with the agent, finalised the last-minute paper work, and then drove with her to Terrason to meet the vendor and the notaire. At last, the paperwork signed, the barn was officially OURS! G went to the barn immediately and texted me the news. I had been watching the clock and calculating his movements, and it was a wonderful shared moment of joy for us both, despite the time difference.

In his new capacity as home-owner, and wearing new gardening gloves and wielding new secateurs, G spent his last afternoon at the barn clipping back and pruning ivy. The apple trees were cloaked in it and the ivy had started up the outside walls of the barn too. He picnicked on the grass, with his back against the warm stone wall, ate an apple from our tree, and picked up one of the fallen walnuts to bring home for me.


Perhaps all the unusual activity at the barn attracted the attention of the neighbours in the petite ham eau of La Fromagerie, since, one by one, they found an excuse to come out of their homes and wave of peer in curiosity at the stranger. G met Jean-Marie, the adult son of the neighbours across the way, and he met his elderly mother, "Mme l'Echelle", as we would christen her (having borrowed a ladder from her husband on our first visit and not having been introduced).


We texted back and forth like mad things that day, and I'd seldom heard G sounding so happy.

...and then the wait

March-October 2011
We returned home to Sydney like triumphant warriors: exhausted but satisfied and with a whole lot of superfluous-to-requirements adrenaline coursing through the veins.

Family and friends tried to match our enthusiasm, peered at the photos of the property etc., but quickly resorted to wiggly smiles when the topic of The Barn came up.  Family, especially, seemed bewildered about the implications. Had we decided to move to France, then, or what was the plan? The spectrum of interest ranged from the faint to the moderate, with most people lurking in the lower reaches. When we spoke of our excitement that it could be something we could ALL enjoy one day were met with blank looks or shifted gazes.

In reality, this was always our dream, and no amount of wishing or shoving and pushing was going to make it a shared passion. Our kids, at least, were chuffed, even if they said they were chuffed 'for us'!!

When the dust had settled, and we'd received the requisite info from the agent, we arranged to pay the deposit for the purchase by direct transfer, and the sale was secured.

There began a long period of several months of waiting for the sale contract to arrive from the estate agent. We went from talking manically about the project and the barn to settling into a rhythm of daily life interspersed with the odd email or letter to which we needed to respond. During this time we asked questions about the property and began a long negotiation which would result in our swapping the field which came with the barn (and which was 'one field over') with the field right next to the barn, so that we would have a contiguous piece of land.

Needless to say, our written French was being tested all the time. The whole sale transaction was conducted in French, since neither the agent nor vendor speaks English. G is my hero; he handled the entire thing single-handedly.

We had been told that the sale was likely to take about 3 months and, allowing for the slow-down during summer, began to anticipate that the sale would be finalised in late August/September. With this in mind, G planned a trip over to France in early October to coincide with a business trip in Asia, and it seemed to us that this would allow plenty of time for the documents to be lined up for signature. In the meantime, we found some local English-speaking building contractors' names on the internet and began to make connection with them. Our reasoning here was that, since we live so far away from the build, we do not need another potential communication complication in the form of a French-English misunderstanding. Also, it would appear that the English contractors in France are accustomed to dealing with off-site owners and with keeping them up to date via email etc.

As it turned out,  the wheels only really began to turn when G's trip was imminent. Early in the morning on the day of G's departure, we got an email from the agent telling us that she needed my signature on a form that G would sign in her presence. My signature had to be verified by the French Consulate; noone else would do. I dropped G at work and raced across town to the French Consulate, where I had to wait in a nearby cafe until it opened. I was the first through those doors and managed to get the document signed and delivered back to G as he was standing waiting on the pavement for his taxi to the airport... Breathe...

Military campaign

February 2011
We arrived in Paris in the early morning of on Saturday 19th February 2011 and caught the train to Limoges, where we spent the first night. After collecting our car the next morning, we headed for La Creuse and there began an intensive week of visiting properties and meeting agents in the towns and villages of, among others:

La Souterraine, Arnac, Lauriere, St Sulpice, Lafat, Colondannes, Chalus, Excideuil, Dussac, Objat, Chabrignac, Donzenac, Uzerche, Chamboulive, Coussac Bonneval....

It felt like a privilege to have access to some of those old buildings, with their magnificent roofs and cool interiors smelling of hay. Some were still in use; others had urgent need of TLC.  The weather was icy cold, there was often mud and lots of it, and we were often exhausted, but it was exhilirating too. The Military Operation was going according to plan. We were where we said we'd be; and miraculously, so were they!

Some of the agents spoke English; some were English; others spoke no English at all. G was - and is - my hero.

We managed to see some 13 properties that first week. All but two had a major if and a but.

Possibility # 1. The barn in Lafat was beautiful. It was large but not cavernous and was part of a small village. It had a small lean-to outbuilding which was characterful and had Potential. And it had a nice flat garden heading off down to a stream. Its cons were that it faced north, so the grass was dominated by moss. It was bigger than we needed (and therefore more expensive to renovate and maintain). And it was about as far north as we wanted to be. Perhaps too far north, from the point of view of winter weather and reliably warm summers...

Possibility # 2. The barn in Chabrignac was beautiful. Not very large but tall. And it had a commanding view of the stunning countryside in almost all directions. It was big sky country, here. It faced south-ish. It had a small four du pain, a meadow with three apple trees, and a field under cultivation. Part of a hamlet of about 6 dwellings. Its cons were that it sat at a crossroads, though the roads were quiet; that it had a neighbour's metal shed right hard up against it. And its field was not adjacent to the barn, whereas the neighbour's field was. Adjacent, that is. Odd.

We spent a quiet weekend at Uzerche, holed up in the Hotel Teyssier, on the river. The town was almost deserted and it was hard to imagine it a bustling centre in the summer. We had a wonderful walk along the river, watched formations of geese flying north overhead, and picnicked on bread and cheese and saucisson while watching kayakers on the river.

The following week, we revisited the two barns we were keen on and spent hours cogitating and discussing their relative merits.

We put an offer in on Chabrignac the day before we had to leave, and a few nailbiting hours later, it was accepted. We had taken our plunge into the waters of French property purchasing!

Nos devoirs

September 2010-February 2011
Serious homework. Six months of it.

G and I returned home on a mission. There ensued weeks of poring over maps of France, trying to decide on an area in which to concentrate our search for a property. At the same time, we were searching online the many websites of French Immobiliers who were advertising properties in our price range. A price range which variously includes piles of stone rubble far from any sniff of electricity or water, to small houses currently occupied via barns of different sizes, from the cathedral to the une-vache miniscule.

We became more and more familiar with the terminology of the real estate industry in France; better at assessing the value of places; thoroughly obsessive about looking at just...one...more. The next property  always held the promise of being The One.

Slowly we narrowed the search to the Limousin, where, it became clear, one could get better value for money amid still unspoiled French countryside. To us, it seemed as if the Dordogne was overrun by the British and was very expensive; the Lot was going that way too. Further north - too cold; further east - ditto. Much further south we felt would be harder to access from Paris...GoogleEarth helped us gain a topographical perspective.

Trying to get les Immobiliers to take us seriously was a challenge. Numerous online enquiries went unanswered. Some agencies responded with a 'contact us when you are in the area' standard line.

So we booked our flights.  We chose to go in February, since we would see the countryside and properties at their worst and, we hoped, our sincerity would be without question: we would not be mistaken for the usual summertime time-wasters (or tyre-kickers, as the Aussies call them). Once we had our dates, we could start to discuss possible meetings and visits to properties, and with that, the tide turned and we were on a roll.

The following agencies and their proprietors/staff were extremely helpful. I'm sure they won't mind if I mention them by name:

Paul Holt of www.holtimmo.eu  -  La Souterraine
Kim Layton of Maupuy Immobilier  - Dun-le-Palestel
Richard Copeland of Grandchamp Immobilier - Excideuil
Véronique Baudry of Bourse L'Immobilier www.bourse-immobilier.fr - Objat
Brigitte Le Goff of Selection Habitat - Nuces
Laetitia Bonnard of Bourse L'Immobilier - Uzerche
Tanya Bright of www.LimousinPropertyAgents.com - Coussac Bonneval
Nigel of Agence de Piegut-Pluviers - Piegut-Pluviers

Slowly, slowly, we started to gather a list of interesting properties. By Christmas, we had a short list.
G spent hours organising appointments to see agents and specific properties. Then he had to go away on business, leaving me with the next phase to deal with... and a house full of guests. Trying to juggle household routines, work, guests and our Magnum Opus became increasingly difficult.

After everyone had gone to bed at night, I began to pull together the itinerary, which involved finding accommodation within striking distance of a morning appointment; not too far from the last in a full day's appointments. I made a folder containing info on each of the dozen or so properties on our list, together with their Google directions from the nearest town or hotel, the contact details of the agent and a photo of the property. The folder was arranged in date order, so that the relevant documents (tickets/booking references/contact details/appointments) and info for any given day were filed together. It was a masterpiece of organisation, though I say so myself.