I wrote this blog on New year’s eve, but the dreaded internet got in the way. I thought it was appropriate to say a final farewell to France. Of course I am now writing this in Ireland, but this is the final farewell. There will be a flurry of posts this week, so much to write about…..
31.12.2021
So we did it! I suppose if you’ve done it once it gets easier. We said goodbye to France due to arrive in Ireland at 3.30pm Greenwich meantime.
View from Deck
I have limited internet, so here are some photos of Ambrieres les vallees on our last day there. It was a very pretty town, and affluent, as indicated by the Marie’s office. But despite its affluence the town was still struggling to survive, as were many in France.
Enjoy the photos more to come from Ireland
Ambrieres les vallees, taken from the town that’s cut into the rocksI fell in love with this weir and little bridgeThe weirThe Marie’s Office in Ambrieres les vallees
Rosie
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So we said ‘Goodbye’ to Montaigu on Tuesday. It was an emotional day and as the day closed we sat in the awful gite we’re renting exhausted.
It was such a rush, as most moves tend to be at the end, that we didn’t have the time to have a final walk around our garden, or say goodbye to our neighbours. But we did say goodbye to our beloved departed cats Molly and Sophie, we know their spirits are not there, but we said goodbye anyway. I said goodbye to my Tree of Tao, and thanked it for healing me, and I took one last look at the view across the valley, never to be replicated. I will always treasure it as one of the gifts I have had in life.
Sunrise in Ambrieres Les Vallees Misty Mornings Ambrieres Les Vallees Summer Moon Over Fields of Gold. Montaigu Ambrieres Les Vallees
Although we will return to say goodbye to our wonderful neighbours we did meet with our dear, and wonderful French friends Martigne and Michelle, affectionately known as Cheeky.
Moisy (Rosie) and Martigne 2018RD and Michelle 2018
They had called us the night before the signing, and when we arrived at their home there they were as welcoming as ever, with beautiful champagne and Tarte aux Pommes. They have both been so kind to us over the past five years. RD will never forget his outing with Cheeky to replace his tyres, that man has so much energy and joie de vivre it’s infectious. Martigne has been one of the kindest people I have ever met, but recently her life has been turned upside down having received very bad news about one of her sons, news that nobody can offer words that will help, other than to say ‘I am so Sorry’. It made me think how much change has taken place since our BBQ at the end of the summer: Mark and Nadia splitting, us leaving, and now this. My heart goes out to my dear friend.
As we left we threw Covid caution to the wind, as is necessary sometimes, and hugged deeply, and we all cried. I’m crying now. It’s a constant reminder from life that everything changes, and sometimes those changes are hard, and heartbreaking. But necessary, as they have to be. I will email Martigne often with photos of our new life, she will be one of the very few people I will stay in touch with from this adventure.
It was a subdued journey back to our gite through the dark French countryside, it seemed as if all the houses were shut up, disappointed in us for leaving. As a very tired RD drove I found myself singing in the bleak midwinter softly; it seemed to calm the dogs down and we trundled on, frighteningly homeless, and somewhat bewildered.
Our small van was crammed with the last minute stuff we hadn’t packed. I have been sorting through it yesterday and today and find myself becoming more and more mercenary: towels that have seen better days, oven dishes that take up so much space, glass containers, all going, let’s make space for something new. This is a bigger move than when we moved here: with a twenty hour boat journey, as well as a total of seven hours driving. We are now changing our plans, letting them go and letting life show us what we should do re our treasured possessions.
The dogs are stressed to the max, and me, the person who used to try and make Christmas perfect is sitting surrounded by this….
But we don’t care, we have each other. We’ve been contacted by many caring friends, and we have our son and pets. What is Christmas anyway,
For us it’s about the New Year now, when we toast to our old, and bring in the new whilst looking out to sea in Ireland.
Au revoir Montaigu, it’s been a blast….
Happy Christmas everyone, in this strange year let’s make it a mellow one.
Rosie
The Sun Setting December 2020. The End of our French Adventure
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This photo is the last sunrise that I will capture from my garden in France. As I sit here writing this I am in my jimby jambies (pyjamas for those who have just stumbled across this blog) RD is sitting opposite me in our red chair with his eyes closed, he’s exhausted and it’s only just coming up to eight in the morning.
The packing up of our house is coming to a close now, with still so much to do. I am wide awake because I woke up with so many words in my head, hence I am sitting in my blue chair writing this post.
The blue and red chairs, where we sit each morning are old and tired, but still comfortable, like old friends. We have decided to leave them here in front of our picture window, for the new family to enjoy, if only for a few weeks and months before they start to make changes. This place where we sit has been a place of solace and comfort at times, a simple thing, and that’s what this adventure in France has been about: learning to just ‘be’ and enjoy the simplest of things. I suddenly find that tears are pricking my eyes as I write this.
Our Place Of Calm
I woke up this morning and said ‘goodbye’ to my bed, it’s an old friend that I won’t see for months, I hope our reunion will be sooner rather than later.
When I came down to the kitchen this morning there were no kittens to say ‘Good Morning Girls’ to. They went off to the cattery yesterday. There we were, all emotional that we were tearing them away from the garden and house they loved, worried for them. There they were snuggled in the heated beds in the cattery even before we got out of the door, happy to be away from the mayhem. Tilly never came back, when she came to visit it was her goodbye to us, telling us she loves us, but she has chosen to live in France with whoever is caring for her now. We understand that, and will always love her so.
I find that there comes a point, when you are moving home, where the memories of the times you had there seem to seep out of the walls. You can almost here them, the voices, the laughter, the tears. I am an empath, and so I can, at times, literally feel and hear them. When I went into the kitchen today to make our first cup of tea I stood at the end of the room, where our five cats would be first thing, mewling for their breakfast. I wrote about the cacophony of cats that would greet me each morning back in 2018, not realising that it would change days later when Tilly left home. Today I stood in my quiet kitchen with my eyes closed and I could hear them all, and see them all, the memory brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. Sophie died in 2019, and Molly died last New Years Day. Memories.
As we pack the house the rooms have begun to echo, and just this last week I have thought of Livermore, and Dylan and our summer of fun, heard the laughter and the splashing of the pool.
I have thought of Nic and the girls, and giggled at all the things we laughed at, mainly RD!
It’s only natural at this time of year that Christmas’s come to mind, not least when Tom has come to visit, especially last year, when he surprised us and I looked out in the garden to see him standing there, not knowing he was coming.
The memories are also there of when we have sat with our last five euros, not knowing if we can feed our animals, let alone us. Of cutting up the trees in our garden to provide us with some heat. I distinctly remember the January in 2019 when we started to question whether we were holding to our dream too tight. And that has been our biggest lesson, to believe that what you need will come and it will; and it always has. We have faith now, in ‘life’ leading the way. So much that we also know when it’s time to listen and make change.
As I write this I realise that there are no memories of anger, or harsh words, In this house and think that just about sums us up.
No matter how much we love things they change, no matter how tight we hold on, and there is another lesson: ‘Let Go’. We have learned that well, it’s given us the courage to make this move now.
We move to a gite this evening, today is going to be a busy but poignant day.
The sun is setting on our adventure in France.
Rosie
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I often write this blog on a Sunday morning/afternoon as we sit in bed having our fourth cup of tea, snuggling with the Welshies. It is one of our treasured moments, a simple thing, counting our blessings.
We have been mega busy dismantling our home, and today will be the last Sunday that we will have the opportunity to do this in this home. The weather has lent itself kindly to us doing this given that the rain is pouring down, and every now and then a spurt of wind whips around this hose on the hill.
Once I get up my sparkling lights will be taken down, and off the bed.
Our Bedroom, a place of sanctuary
The 1860’s French dressing table will be emptied, ready for the remainder of our furniture to be moved on Tuesday.
Our Antique French Dressing Table lovingly painted by me.
This bedroom will no longer feel like ours, and this time next week we will be moving to a gite in anticipation of handing the keys to our house over the week after.
One of the lessons we have learned as part of this adventure is that we make our homes, it is RD and I who create them, and make them into places where people like to come, because they are welcomed.
I know I will create a new one, in some ways I am looking forward to it, but I started this blog all those years ago to encourage people to step outside of their comfort zones, to broaden their horizons, and to not be afraid of doing so. So I am writing about this move because yes, it is scary, yes it is poignant, yes you can recreate again, but yes you should live in each moment.
I asked RD the other day if he felt afraid, he said ‘Yes’.
Despite it all we know we are doing the right thing. Life has showed us that over and over. But right now we are procrastinating, or perhaps just treasuring this moment because we know it will never come again.
Rosie
December Sunset Montaigu Ambrieres les vallees 2020
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Yesterday I booked our boat to Ireland. It’s no mean feat when your booking two Welsh terriers into heated dog lodges, arranging for two cats to remain safely and warmly in the van, and booking a cabin for yourselves for the eighteen and a half hour crossing!
It was weird because I felt very excited about going to Ireland, as did RD . But last night as we sat in our dismantled living room we both agreed that whilst excited we still felt a little sad. It’s part of the process folks, I have learned that now: part of the process of letting things go is to allow yourselves to feel the poignancy as one chapter of your life closes and another opens. We don’t always have to put our chins up and pretend that we’re not sad, or ignore our feelings and just look to the future (which we are incredibly excited about). I believe that we should allow that feeling of poignancy wash over us, and then keep going. Too many people try and have a ‘stiff upper lip’, when, really, they don’t need to. It’s just what it is.
Yesterday one of my best friends (thirty three years and counting) put a beautiful comment on my last post asking me to hug our house for her, because it had healed her at a time she needed it, just as it has healed us enough to go back into the ‘throng’. I have evolved from living here, so much so that I am ready to go back out there, albeit a different Rosie sometimes.
Making Our Home December 2015
Last night we took down my big decorative mirror that was one of the first things we hung above the fireplace. As RD carried it out he stopped and we both just looked at each other, remembering when we hung it in December 2015.
Moving on December 2020
As always life has shown me the way, you know how it does: like little pieces of jigsaw being placed like a path showing you where to go. (I have really learned to listen now.) We are juggling money, with each week mapped out as to what I have to pay. But when I spoke to the lovely lady at the cattery she doesn’t want the deposit until we arrive with the cats; and when I tried to pay for our accommodation in Ireland the money doesn’t come out until the 28th, freeing up enough money this week to book our boat. Moving from country to country is a complicated and expensive business. We were going to sail to Ireland on the 3rd of January 2021, but I couldn’t get the dogs booked into their dog lodges for that date, however I could get everything I needed for the 30th. Life clearly thought we should be starting the new year in a new country. So we will be as I write this we have twenty nine days left in France…….
Rosie
November Sunset From My French Home
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As you can probably tell I am trying to cherish every beautiful sunrise that I see. There are not many left here for me to cherish. I know there will be new ones, I am not sad about our decisions, but those new ones are not here yet, and I firmly remind myself to live in the here and now.
November Sunset in Ambrieres les Vallees France
When I find my new home I will put up a collections of the sunrises and sunsets that I have had the blessing to see whilst living here in France. It’s been a part of my life.
Life has took off now, we have less than three weeks left in this house. I have been packing for the last two weeks, and now every cupboard is empty apart from the stuff we’re using. The home we built is now being dismantled. I have held onto my sparkly lights until next week, just to feel as if we are still at home, but I know I will have to relinquish them eventually.
I have been mercenary, even selling our vintage Blue Willow plates, bowls and side plates, they are just not my thing, I prefer my plain white plates. It was only after I sold them that I realised that I had packed all our other plates and now we have no small plates or dinner plates, just platters! When I gave Daisy the cat some milk and cream she looked at me as if I had grown another head when I poured it out for her on a platter!
Our Beautiful Bedroom. I will create a new one. I always do.Dismantling
The shelves are coming down, our antique French mirrors are packed away and my bedroom that I lovingly put together is slowly being dismantled, but I am still trying to hold on to my sparklies in every room for as long as I can.
Our beautiful French buffet is now in storage along with our armoire, both have already gained scratches but I knew that was coming. No stress they can always be repainted.
The fourteen mirrors we have throughout the house are coming down. The old grandfather clock has been taken to storage and when I woke this morning waiting for it to chime out the time, I suddenly remembered it was now chiming away in our friends summer house. I hope the mice appreciate it, and don’t feel the need to re-enact ‘Hickory Dickory Dock’!
Our furries are stressed to the max, the dogs are getting tetchy with each other, and the cats have finally started to snuggle together after being at odds for years. We feel really guilty about our animals, poor Wiglet looks afraid all the time after her terrible start in life, and we have to keep reassuring her that everything will be okay, that she is coming with us. Harley pretty much takes most things in his stride but even he is getting arsy with Wiglet.
I feel sad because I know they all love this garden, and because I know they will have to move again from our rental into whatever house we find; and God knows what condition that will be in. I do know that the first job will be to fence the garden to protect them all. Despite my guilt I know that part of our decision is based on finding regular work, because we have responsibilities to them, and I know that they will love Ireland just as much as they love here.
We know in our heart of hearts that we are doing the right thing for us all; and we also know that if you want an adventure part of it is discomfort, and apprehension, and poignancy. But we’ve done it once, we know we can do it again. This time we’re just letting more stuff go, and going into the future with our eyes open, using all we have learned from this adventure.
As I packed up this week it suddenly came to me that the last five years have all been about learning things to prepare us for our life in Ireland. We know that life is mapped out, we accepted that a long time ago.
Life’s all about learning and facing your fears ay?
Rosie
Sunsets from my French garden in France
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It’s official: we hand the keys over to the new owners of our house just before Christmas .
So Christmas as we know it is cancelled this year, no decorations (the one thing I love about Christmas). But there is a chance our son will come to visit with his friend so we will all be in a gite together, and it will be a an alternative Christmas, which will be good, not least because it will be different.
One of our lessons from living here has been to to simplify, to realise that we don’t need ‘stuff’ we just need good people around us. I read the linked post before I linked it, and it made me cry.
I have changed so much from this adventure, isn’t that what stepping outside of your comfort zone is about, to change and evolve?
So it’s busy, busy, busy. Rich is working I am packing up, and the poor animals are stressed to the max.
A new day is dawning…
Rosie
Today’s sunrise no wonder this house healed me …
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I am currently sitting in bed, it’s 11.45 in the morning and we have allowed ourselves a morning lie in. It’s a busy time.
We have a very atmospheric sky today, and the pictures above are what I can see from my vantage point as I write this.
I am surrounded by sleeping Welshies and RD snoring away, and after our scare last weekend I have again been reminded to only ever live in the here and now.
This will be our second move in six years. In fact in our twenty- two, almost twenty- three years of being together we have moved four times, this will be our fifth move.
Over the week as well as frantically taking as many photos of the fabulous sunsets we are blessed with, I have been packing up our belongings and I was making decisions about what to keep and what to let go. As part of this I was boxing up the shoes that we had, supposedly, decided we were taking with us, after letting so many pairs go; and as I did so I found myself putting additional pairs in the clothing bag for charity. In fact it was as if I was having an epiphany: you HAVE to let go of the old to make room for the new.
The shoes weren’t the only things that led to this. I have my son’s cot in the barn, he is thirty-one years old, why the hell did I ship it to France? I know why, we were moving to another country and for the first time I would not have my son near to me, that first Christmas without him being there was a hard lesson. But now it’s what it is, he has his life, and I want him to live it, and I have learned to let go of the idea that we always have to be together.
Then there is a blue top that belonged to my mum, it was her favourite top, she wore it often. After she died I kept it, and dutifully moved it three times. I thought when we came here I had let it go, but no, when I sorted our cupboard at the top of the stairs there it was again, buried in amongst all the clothes we have never worn in five years. I let it go this time, with all the other clothes. Only this time was different: this time I held it up and said to RD ‘This is not my mum, this is a top. My mum is in my memories.’
After that I was then on a roll: the fridge magnets we bought in Disney twenty- seven years ago (when I was married to my first husband ffs!) off they went to the great dechetterie (dump in French) in the sky. Sentimental mugs, faux flowers, old earrings, and watches and bracelets, tarnished, were in the bin before they knew it.
All of this got me thinking is life really just one big on-going lesson about learning to let go? Is life really just a lesson in learning about why we hold on to things which then enables us to let them go?
I understand why I bought so many things from our old house with me. I loved that house, I found it hard leave it, and so I bought the things I could from it, because it was too hard to let it all go at once. But as the years passed here I realised I didn’t want to re-create my past, that I need to make something new. My old house had gone, and I was then ready to let the things associated with it go too. There are some things I love that I will take with me because I love the item itself, or the memory it conjures up.
As I packed away my thoughts developed further and I found myself asking does that apply to everything in life? Including the loved ones we have lost? Someone once said to me ‘every time you cry about your mum, you pull her back, and you never let her spirit free.’ I found it difficult to understand at first, but after reading and learning and listening and reflecting it becomes clearer every day.
When my mum was dying she promised she would come back for each and every one of us, so when my beloved Westie dog died I thought I would feel my mum’s presence, and my heartbreak was even more compounded when I didn’t.
I understand now that it was never going to be, because we are all spirits learning what we need to learn in each lifetime, and we then move on to the next stage of our enlightenment. Perhaps those who love us stay near for a time, but eventually they have to let us go, to enable us to grow.
Then there are the friendships that come and go, and sometimes come back again after we have all learned and evolved. I believe the right people migrate back to you, as I have written about often. But more importantly how often does life show us that we need to let the relationships go? Show us, as we evolve, that they weren’t what we thought they were at all? That the people were not what we thought? Or, thinking even more deeply, perhaps they were, and it is us who have changed.
I think that is one of the hardest lessons of all, we don’t want to see negatives in those we have spent so much of our life with. But if we are able to objectively, it can enable us to decide whether to still have the person in our life or not, without rancour or pain. It’s just what it is.
Letting go of pain, letting go of hurt, just letting go without bitterness, is probably one of the hardest things to do. When RD left me I learned from writing my journal that if I allowed myself to be consumed in bitterness I would be destroyed. That was nearly fourteen years ago, now I use what I learned to help some others who find themselves where I was, but now I also know it applies to so many things in life. But I can only help ‘some’ because the others do not want to ‘let go.’ And so they continue to suffer in pain. That experience has taught me to let go of the hope that I could help everyone. I can’t, people can only ever help themselves.
I have learned over the past five years that we cannot have the sunny side of life all the time. The Tao has taught me that where there is good there is bad, where there is love there is heartache, where there is life there is death. I had to remind myself of that last week when Harley was ill, I had to say it as a mantra, and despite the pain I felt, it gave me comfort and strength and it has made me live every day this week cherishing every small moment.
It’s amazing isn’t it, what you learn as you unpack and pack your life up again? And the time will come, in the near future, when we let this house go, and this adventure go, and we ‘let go,of the rice.’ (Mark Nepo, The Book Of Awakening
Have a good Sunday folks.
Rosie
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So after a slow start we have all signed the Compromise de Vente. Our buyers have a cooling off period but despite this they have paid their ten per cent deposit and paid to expedite the process, so it’s looking promising. It looks as if we will be leaving our home just after Christmas, if not before. Christmas is cancelled in our house.
We had started weeks ago with regard to getting the house ready to pack, including sorting the barn…
Yep! Why?
We have been clearing out cupboards, being really mercenary with letting things go. We have learned from this adventure that you have to let go to move forward. Despite knowing this I find we have to constantly remind ourselves. So due to this I am offering my son’s beautiful cherrywood cot, that turns into a bed, for free on a giveaway site. He’s 31, I think it’s time to let it go.
On Sunday we gave away his chess set and superhero figures to our neighbours little boy. I know why I bought them over here, I have realised that ‘letting go’ is a gradual process that, if we embrace change, happens over time. I loved my old house, it was the house where my son left home from, it was a beautiful house, and I couldn’t let it all go at once. But as we learn that change brings new things into our lives, so we let go to allow room.
There is a lot to do, and RD will be working for 3 to 4 weeks of the time left. So today we got up full of good intentions, despite both of us having a bad nights sleep, to crack on with clearing the goats shed, and the cellar. But I knew that we needed to plan this huge move, and the planning had to start from today, with everything to consider: money, the process, the order of things that needed to be done, and not least in the mix were our beloved animals. They have to be jabbed: the cats to enable them to go into the cattery at least 3 days before the actual move, and they and the Welshies need to have rabies jabs at least 22 days before the move.
We had to think are we taking the cats on the boat, for twenty hours, or fly them out to us. This would mean leaving them for up to eight weeks in a cattery, and I don’t want to spend a thousand euros on that. As part of our discussions we also both said we don’t want to leave them in France when we are not here. The decision has been made, they’re coming with us.
That led onto the discussion as to room in the van, leading on to ‘do we leave our stuff over here for months, or make arrangements to collect it sooner rather than later?’
To make all these decisions we had to contact the vets for prices for the inoculations, and a storage facility in Ireland, who acted like I was mad when I asked if he required a deposit, saying very kindly ‘Oh I don’t think there’s any need for that.’ We had to look up boats and what facilities they offer for our beloved furries, and so much more.
We need to find somewhere to stay for the ten days after the move, in France we have to leave the house at least 2 days before the sale goes through, because the house has to be clean, tidy and all blemishes and marks have to be made good. It’s all part of selling your house over here. On the day we all sign the final ‘Acte de Vente’ we hand the keys over there and then. There is no going back.
I wondered if we all pontificate when it comes to moving, because of that fear of change. I think we do.
So six hours after starting planning the day was nearly gone, but the plans have been mapped out on paper, decisions have been made and tomorrow we get up at 7! Hopefully I will get a wonderful sunrise to share.
Rosie
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The start of a new day in France. As always I am inspired by the sunrises over the vallees, and cherishing every one. I will share as many as I can with you before we go..
I should be on the boat now returning to my job, but as always life showed me the way and a mutual decision was reached that I will not return, but that monies owed will be paid. I cannot tell you the relief I feel, and although we will lose some money I will trust my belief that what we need will come. I have followed Mark Nepo’s advice and I have ‘Let go of the rice.’
Last night RD and I realised It is probably for the best because we only have eight weeks left in this house, if not less. Despite being busy these last two weeks clearing out the barn, taking all the things we humans tend to harbour for years but will never use to the dechetterie (rubbish dump).
There is still a lot of clearing out to do. One half of our barn has been completed, just the other half to start today!
I have also been busy selling things we don’t need, we have learned the lesson well in: don’t move stuff to another country just ‘in case’. It costs way too much and we are resolute that what we need must all fit into a Luton van.
We are moving ourselves this time, otherwise it will mean that we will have spent up 12,000€ on moving! Too much!
I have also arranged accommodations in Ireland, with flexible dates until they are confirmed, and checked out accommodation here for the (hopefully) only ten days we will need to remain here. I am ready to go now.
In France when you sell your house on the day you sign on the dotted line you hand the keys to the new owner. There is no going back to finalise, that is it, you have to be out and the house has to be empty on the day. So we will need to book into accommodation before the final day. It will be a poignant time when we close the door.
In addition to the barn I have cleared out our armoire of the things that were put in it five years ago, added to and never used. Why do we do it? Have drawers full of crap?
Trust me these are the empty drawers, they were full to overflowing before. Now some drawers are empty with only a few things we are taking with us put back. We asked ourselves yesterday why it takes a move to clear our lives of clutter. A new lesson I will try and remember: have a yearly clear out LET GO.
The plan is that once the dates have been confirmed everything that is in our cupboards is coming with us and simply needs to be wrapped and packed. (I say simply😁)
I have applied the same principle to our fabulous French buffet, lovingly painted by me and now a storage facility for all the things that need to be packed. I just can’t wait for the date now.
So the animals are looking at us questionably, they know that things are abreast.
Rosie
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