It’s nice to be back home in the UK after a month away in France. In France the late summer weather was wonderful and warm and back in England it looked for a while as if we had brought that lovely weather back with us. A few days later though, the temperature dropped and it began to rain and suddenly England was back to its usual default mode: cold and wet.
I’ve often wondered if I could survive away from England, if I could successfully move to somewhere like France for instance. Moving abroad is a bit of a pipe dream for me although I do subscribe to a number of French property pages and Liz and I have visited some potential homes but so far I haven’t found one that I have really wanted to buy.
We looked at a really attractive house near the village of Champagne-Mouton while we were away. It was a little on the small side but certainly big enough for me. It had two bedrooms although the second one was only accessible through the first one. Outside was a delightful garden area and the owners -they were both English- had put together an outside bar area where they entertained friends and neighbours.
Across the road was a barn where the couple had a large freezer and a washing machine. Their old lounge suite was in there and it was clear the man of the house used it as a man-cave. Next to the barn was a huge garden area and a short walk away was another outside area full of fruit trees and vines and where they grew various vegetables. That sort of layout with a garden across the road or even a short walk away is typical of French country properties. A few years ago we viewed a property near to the village of Mouliherne which also had land across the road and as much as I liked that place it was just too far away from civilisation.
There are numerous properties for sale in the French countryside and most of them are really cheap compared to property in the UK. There is a saying though in the property business which is location, location, location and that’s the thing. Once you find a place close to shops, bars and restaurants, all three of which -especially the last two- are high on my list, then prices begin to go up. Perhaps I’ll find a place one day, perhaps not. Until then we’ll carry on renting our favourite place in the village of Parçay les Pins and touring about in our little motorhome.
Why would I want to move to France? Well as I get older I find I really want somewhere warmer to live. I hate the cold, really hate the cold with a passion so I want to live somewhere warmer. France of course is not universally warm, except further south and even there I suppose they must have cooler weather in the winter. I do like the relaxed lifestyle of rural France and I like the food. In particular I like the multiple courses and especially the cheese course. In France we tend to look for routiers or routiers style restaurants. These restaurants are primarily for truck drivers but I’ve noticed lately that more and more of the general public are using them.
We found a new routier this year, it was called Le Maison Blanc. We were able to park in the car park for the night alongside the wagons and for a mere 35 euros for two we had a bottle of wine each (rosé for me, red for Liz) and a bottle of water. Over on the buffet starter table there were cold meats, pâtés and salads and on one side was a section with crushed ice with a choice of prawns, snails, crab and oysters and on the other side was a warm section offering slices of pizza and different pastries. On Thursdays the restaurant has a steak night. Liz had a steak but for me I’ve never really been keen on the way the French cook steaks. They do it with the minimal amount of cooking which is not quite enough for me. Anyway, normally at a routiers there is a choice of about three or four main dishes. Here at Le Maison Blanche the mains, apart from the steak, consists of a hot buffet. I think we visited about three times while we were in the area and I went for the meatballs and pasta one night and on another I had Bolognese with frites. On the third visit I had a mixture of everything and ate far too much.
In the main the French prefer a big lunch to a large evening meal. Perhaps things are different in the cities like Paris but out in the country that seems to be the norm. In the town we used to visit a few years ago, Doué la Fontaine, you can be hard pushed to get a restaurant seat on Saturday lunchtime but on Saturday evenings, in the few places that are open, most of the diners are English tourists.
The pool at our rented gite in France
What would I do in France? Well I suppose my day would be pretty much like a day when I stay in our rented gite. I usually wake round about 9:30 to 10 and drag myself up to make a brew. We always bring a good supply of tea bags but now I think about it, are tea bags available in French supermarkets? Well I’ve never actually looked but I suppose they must be. Well, I hope so otherwise I’d have to take steps to secure a supply of tea bags from friends in the UK. (I can see myself having to send out urgent messages. Tea bag supplies low. Please send urgent PG Tips!)
Usually we’ll have a cup of tea in bed while we check our messages and emails then it’s time for a wash (no point in having a shower as I’ll soon be in the pool). We usually bring supplies of bacon for breakfast but when we’ve used that up or just fancy a change, I’m pretty partial to eggs on toast but a favourite breakfast dish when we’re in France is a bacon omelette. It goes pretty well with a French baguette which is good when you can’t get hold of a medium Warburton’s loaf. (Not usually available in France.)
You can of course get UK style sliced bread in France but it isn’t particularly nice and seems designed to last for ages making me think it’s full of preservatives. It’s ok toasted but that’s about it. Most of the time we’ll just fall in with the French and buy a baguette.
Anyway that brings me to around 12 and it’s time to get out there to the pool and do my first ten laps. After that Liz and I will usually compete against each other to solve a sudoku. I don’t like to admit it but she usually wins. Then we’ll spend the afternoon reading and swimming which is altogether very relaxing. Of course to continue this lifestyle when living in France I’d have to buy a house with a pool or at least a house with space to build a pool.
Various things on the barbecue, Liz’s salad and of course, a glass of wine.
Later on we start to think about food and round about 6pm it’s probably time for me to decant some wine and get the barbecue set up. We have a small portable gas barbecue which when it comes down to it is really more of a grill but it’s really handy and cooks the food pretty well. If I lived in France, I reckon I’d be wanting a proper barbecue, you know, one with real coals. I do like a proper barbecue.
Anyway, we’d be eating pretty healthily, Liz makes a fabulous salad and although we drink a lot of red wine over there, red wine is supposed to be good for you. Later on when our steak, burgers and sausages have been eaten and everything has been cleaned up, it’s rather nice to sit out on the porch and take in the night sky. Out in the country where there is little light pollution, the night sky is a great vista of stars. I reckon that living out in France I’d be doing quite a lot of sitting out on the porch, with a glass of something naturally.
So, I could deal with the two possible issues, the tea and the bread situation. A bigger problem might be getting to grips with the French language but I’ve noticed in places like Parçay les Pins there is a pretty close knit English community so I’m sure I’d get help there and it’s always easier to learn a language when you’re actually in the place where that language is spoken.
The only real problem would be if I happened to want a donner kebab on a Saturday night when the nearest takeaway is 20 miles away and they don’t deliver.
Take a look at the picture just below. Not a particularly outstanding picture I know but that house is the one where I grew up. I took the picture a while ago after a sort of nostalgic drive around the old neighbourhood. Yes, the house with the white door, that’s my old home. It’s changed a bit since I lived there. The privet hedge has gone and the car space is new. One amazing thing I found out on that visit is that the walk to my old junior school, which seemed to be a heck of a walk as I remember it; surely at least a thirty minute walk, was actually more of a ten minute walk: Well, it was a long time since I walked to my junior school. I stopped in the road, took my picture, became lost in thought for a moment as a thousand memories crowded my mind, then drove off.
Those memories and other ones always come back every time I look at that picture. I happened to be looking at it because my new laptop finally arrived and all my files had been moved over by the guys in the computer shop and I was just checking through them. It’s been over a week since my trusty old laptop overheated and expired and I’ve missed it. I’ve not been separated from my e-mails because I have a tablet, actually a Blackberry Playbook which is good but there’s a lot I just can’t do on a pad. Writing is difficult; in fact, it’s not unlike writing a text on a mobile phone and there’s no way I could write a blog post using it.
