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Category Archives: The good life

Learning lessons: The holiday

19 Monday Aug 2019

Posted by in Making our own way, My home, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life

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We will have lived in France four years and four months, lived in our house four years last week. Wow! The time has truly flown.

Those who have been following this blog know that we have had some good times, but boy we have had some tough times; and it has only been this year that I have fully recovered: back to being me

As a result of my full recovery I have taken over the management of our small property management business, set up the website, and promoted the hell out of H: He is good at what he does.

Because of this H (my new abbreviation for Danny/Rich, it’s just easier!) has had more work and last week we realised that it was actually the first ‘holiday’ we have had since living here.

That’s the thing with an adventure like this: you’re setting up a new life when you move to a new country: bank accounts, language, culture, in France in particular finding your way around the mountains of admin. All the things that you just took for granted: like opening a letter and reading it, or being able to pick up the phone to sort something out just goes out of the window.

This was our house when we viewed it, the paper on the walls was damp and mouldy in the living room.

Our kitchen had the unit you can see and nothing else. It had to be taken out and H built us a kitchen on a budget, and over the years we have actually taken the wall between the laundry room and kitchen.

When people embark on this type of adventure they want ‘the land’ but as I have written about before land means work! Add it to having to translate everything, renovating, trying to build a business and oh my! So suffice to say to have an adventure is hard work, unless you don’t have to work, or have enough money to pay others. And you are always doing something, if it’s not work it’s the house, or admin, or in our case starting up two blogs, writing a book, setting up an Etsy shop, and so much more beside. We are always on the go, and we haven’t taken any kind of holiday, until now.

Life intervened to make this a holiday, where we took a break from everything, including admin, and housework, and renovation and gardening: it made me ill.

I am the driving force, H would tell you that. But my failing is that being a ‘doer’ I cram things in to every day. I am always looking to achieve, but this last week I stopped. We did the basic tidying that you have to do on a daily basis, we lay in bed until mid-day (albeit with a cup of tea), and we chilled. H had a window to fix that was smashed in the winds the week before last, and every day he said he was going to fix it, and every day I said it was fine. It’s not freezing, it didn’t have to be done on our week off. Being ill, and still not one hundred per cent even now, made me stop.

Yesterday was our last day of our holiday and with the fuel to drive around we had spent the total of twenty-two euro. It proved to us we didn’t need money, we just needed each other and simple things like sitting in the washer-woman’s wash house watching the rain plop into the river in the beautiful Chailland.

Or just chilling with tea in the morning with the Welshies, who couldn’t be happy seeing this every morning.

As we sat in the garden last night drinking our last bottle of red wine (before our self imposed change to not drink on weekdays) H looked at me and said ‘I have had such a lovely time, and really felt as if I have had a holiday.’ I agreed with him and it made us realise that life has changed for us: being busy has enabled us to appreciate the holiday we have had, and also made us realise that we don’t need money to have a good time.

Here is to more galavanting, time permitting.

But just one other thing: if you don’t have bad times then you won’t know good times, that is the biggest lesson we have learnt from this adventure. If you’re not busy, how do you enjoy relaxing? Or does each day just merge into another? I have also learnt from this break that you can get caught up in the busyness and forget to sometimes just stop, and that there are so many beautiful places just on our doorstep, we just need to take the time out to enjoy them.

Rosie

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Galavanting: I’ve found where I want to live

13 Tuesday Aug 2019

Posted by in Galavanting, Simple things, The continuing adventure, The good life

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It’s as if the summer in France was so intense it literally burnt itself out! This time last year we were enjoying temperatures in the late twenties, but it has been clear since the beginning of August that autumn is creeping in early. In fact as I sit here writing this I have my dressing gown on and my flip flops have been discarded for my autumn slippers (trust me my winter slippers are way bigger, with two pairs of socks underneath!)

After my sudden illness last weekend I am now ninety five per cent recovered, all but a bit delicate. I have lost four kilo, we are both eating healthier than we have in a long time (fruit has never been our thing. Salad’s yes, fruit was often just left to rot in the bowl) and we now have an occupied fruit bowl.

I would like to thank you all for your well wishes, and concern, but I was true to my word: we now have top up insurance and tomorrow I am sending off the docs for my carte vitel which is the seventy-five per cent provision from the government. As the lovely The grey divorcee said I really do feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. We will have to find the money every month but I do believe that life shows you the way, and I do believe life was telling (in fact yelling) at us to get it; so now I believe that life will ensure we have the provision to pay for it. Like I said it’s no longer an ‘option’, and it is about belief.

So back to my post. It is our twentieth wedding anniversary tomorrow, those who read my other blog you will know it has not been a smooth road, but then is anything in life? In fact if we all had a ‘smooth road’ all the time when would we know that we are experiencing something special? But I digress: after Danny (aka Rich) put in his holiday request form we are having this week off. We have a small budget but we only need to have each other and the Welshies to have a good time. So today we set off for the afternoon, to visit some recommended villages and towns near to us.

The weather was cloudy but warm when we arrived in St Denis de Gastines, where there was supposedly some gardens to walk around; but true to form for France it is August, everything is shut because everyone goes on holiday en masse, and there was not a sign for a garden anywhere. I love this country but sometimes there lack of entrepreneurial pzazz drives me insane!

What we did find though was this beautiful chateau

Oh wow! We said, let’s go and look at that, but sadly when we walked around to look through it’s gate it has just been left to rot. It was so pretty, with it’s walled garden and cloisters at the back, but it has been left and I understand that to maintain it would be so costly you would need lottery money to fund it.

Only the rabbits were in situ, frantically running for cover because they could probably smell Wiglet (aka the serial killer).

We left St Denis for a larger town nearby where something would be open for coffee, and during the journey we found this…

This is Chailland, a tiny medieval city of character, only forty minutes from where we live now. It nestles in the valley, with a large statue of Mary overlooking the town from a sheer rock-face cut into the hill.

It has some a few pretty bars and restaurants (all closed for the en masse holiday that the French take in August) but oh my that didn’t matter, it was quintessentially French, tranquil, and so so pretty.

The rivers Ernee and Varmourin run through it having carved there way through the rocks centuries ago. We both fell in love with it.

We had grabbed an impromptu ‘lunch’: crisps and nectarines, and we sat at a little table/bench that had been purposefully built opposite the rock face, river and old mill. What a place to eat your lunch with the man you have just spent the last twenty-one years with. I took these photos as we sat on the bench.

We both just sat there and thought this is what we need, perhaps life was showing the way! As the clouds rolled in and the rain started to fall we took shelter in the centuries old washer women’s area, right by the river. We just watched the river gain momentum as the rain fell, watched the raindrops plop into the water, and looked at each other and said ‘I am really enjoying myself’.

We Don’t have much in material sense, but we have each other, and tonight we have two sleeping Welshies, one in her own French antique cot!(She’s been dying to get in that because she’s seen the cats in it!)

We are galavanting a lot this week, with crisps and coke, and water, and fruit and Welshies, we are happy with what we have because we fought so hard to keep it.

Rosie

My favourite time of year

09 Tuesday Jul 2019

Posted by in Reflections, The continuing adventure, The good life, The seasons

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Image result for images of whippy ice cream

This time of year has always been my favourite time of year, with warm weather and Wimbledon, for me it has always epitomised summer because of the fond memories that it brings back.

I don’t remember when I really got into tennnis, but I do know that Bjorn Borg was a major factor in converting me, and I became an avid tennis fan when I was fourteen. I can especially remember the summer of ’77, when the weather had been hot (something to be treasured in England) and the championships had been thrilling: with Borg constantly taking us through five set matches whilst we sat on the edge of our seats.

One particular evening my mum and dad had gone ‘up the club’ as we used to say, to have an evening out, leaving my eighteen year old sister and I indoors watching the tennis. It was a hot evening and Borg was playing Vitas Gerulaitis, I lay on the sofa periodically jumping up whenever Borg scored a point. The match was a thrilling five set match that played late into the balmy evening.

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My dear Dad had left us with some money because the ‘Ice Cream Man’ normally came to our lane on a Thursday evening, and as we watched the match we could hear his chimes as he came up our lane. I can remember my sister pulling rank on me and insisting that I went out and queued for the ice creams whilst she watched the match.

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Running out as fast as I could I beat all the young kids and getting to the front to the queue so that I could get back to the match,  and decadently buying us both an Oyster Ice Cream each , considered the queen of ice creams back in the 70’s.

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I just remember that time to be such a happy time: my mum and dad were getting on and not arguing, my school life was going well and I had started to gain the confidence that I would take with me for the rest of my life; the weather was good and the tennis was better. Borg went on to win that year.

Image result for images of wimbledon 1977

 

It’s funny how particular things resonate with you; I watchWimbledon every year but if you ask me to think of a match it will always take me back to that balmy Thursday evening in Essex when life was innocent and good.

I never thought at that time that one day I would be watching the tennis in my house in France. I suppose it goes to show that if you believe, and face your fears,  life really can be an adventure; and your memories go with you wherever you are.

Have a good day.

PS: A song to make you smile

 

Rosie

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Dreams

22 Wednesday May 2019

Posted by in Change is a coming, Dream, Making our own way, Reflections, The good life

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When we were planning to move to France I had a little dream in my head: I pictured myself sitting in my garden writing. I had some pretty clothes on and a jaunty French scarf around my neck, and the sun was shining. So as I sit here in my garden today, writing this blog, the sun is shining, and I am in paint spattered clothes (hey you can’t have everything!) and I realised that my dream has come true.

I am editing my book, surrounded by tranquility and birdsong, with two sleeping Welshies at my feet and 3 sleeping cats around me.

I realise again that my dream has come true.

My book is half way edited from the printed version (so much you cannot see when it is on the laptop!) and I will be contacting a publisher on Friday. My blogYou can read it here just hit 50,000 views, with over 8,000 visitors.

I always knew our story would help others, and from the interaction and feedback from the people who read it I was right. Someone once told me to ceremoniously burn my journal one day; but I always knew I couldn’t because it is part if me: keeping that journal made me the person that I am today.

It brought a tear to my eye today. Dreams can come true, you just have to believe in them.

Moisy

Galavanting: Lonlay L’abbaye

05 Sunday May 2019

Posted by in Galavanting, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life

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I know lots of you enjoyed my last galavanting post, so there will be more through the summer.

As normal I am in bed drinking a cup of tea (for my Non English readers I am from Essex in England so it is pronounced: cuppaty) whilst writing this blog. It is unseasonably chilly here in France so necessary to stay tucked in bed with a Welshie and cat snuggled up to me, whilst my lovely hubby makes the second cuppaty of the day.

Last Sunday Rich was asked to go and meet someone for a job, and we ended up in the pretty little village of Lonlay L’abbeye, in the Department of Orne, just over the border in Normandy.

As you may have guessed the town started as a Benedictine monastery originating back to 1020, which has had at least three fires, and was sadly decimated in WW2 when the Germans punished the villagers for welcoming American troops.

Only the church and some of the cloisters now remain of what was the abbey.

So we found ourselves in this pretty village on a blustery spring day. We walked around the gardens at the back of the church, surrounded by small apple trees, where, although now divided up, you could see what had been the land belonging to the Monastery.

There by the stream was the original cider press used by the monks all those years ago to make the cider for which Normandy is so famous. Amazing that this building had survived all the trials and tribulations that the village had endured.

With a stream running around the church gardens you had to cross small bridges to get to other parts of town: so quaint.

There was something about this place: it had a tranquility about it, it was so calm, and I loved it.

You can see from the photos all the tiny higgledy piggledy houses, some backing on to the stream: how I would love to live there with a babbling brook for company all day.

Rich & The Welshies, chilling by the brook

There were a number of small bars and restaurants and a little square with terraces, but sadly because it was Sunday all the bars were shut. So we have vowed to come back on a warm sunny evening to have a meal, and some vin, and to soak up the tranquil atmosphere whilst listening to the babbling brook.

Nothing came of the job, but life had still showed us the way: we found Lonlay L’abbeye.

Moisy

Laughter & giggles

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Posted by in People, Simple things, The continuing adventure, The good life, Us

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One of biggest things that I love about my husband is that he makes me laugh every day. So this weekend I thought I would share some of this part of our life with you.

I have shared that this winter was difficult, but it didn’t stop us laughing: from Rich mimicking me whenever he could: I now hear myself say oh! Before a sentence or asking for something; because he would mimic me and what I had said whenever I did it: ‘boh! Bring my iPad down babes! Or ‘boh. Turn the water in babes!’ As I hear myself say it now I start giggling, whether he is here or not.

Then there are the times I lift something heavy: I didn’t realise that I puff my face out as I do it, like a determined puffer fish until I looked at Rich the other end of whatever we are lifting pulling the same face back at me. Then I start laughing, nearly always drop what I am lifting and end up calling him a bastard!

But I get my revenge: so here is a recent story of my escapades into trying to teach Rich some French:

We are sat on or respective sofa’s when I say to Rich ‘I was thinking to really get to grips with another language you need to understand verbs, adjectives and nouns.’ (Rich never excelled in English grammar, he couldn’t see the point.)

Rich now looks at me suspiciously, but I carry on: ‘Because the French put their adjective after the noun, where we put our adjective in front of the noun, and I think that confuses you.’ Rich looks at me and says ‘whats an adjective?’

Me:’It’s a word that describes a noun. For example the black table. What’s the adjective?’

Rich:’Table’

Me:’No that’s the noun.’

Rich:’What’s a noun?’

Me:’The name of something: Tree, Fire, Dog’. (I’m looking around the living room for inspiration) ‘So the black table, what’s the noun?’

Rich:’The’

Me:’Table, table, table, for fucks sake I just told you.’ Rich starts giggling nervously. But I wasn’t giving up (although I think that’s what he wanted)

Me: ‘So the black table: what’s the noun?’

Rich:’Table’ (yey)

Me: So what’s the adjective?

Rich: ‘The’ (Oh for fucks sake!)

Me (I’m starting to stifle a giggle now) ‘The, the the! What does ‘the’ describe?’

Rich:’The table’

Me: ‘If an adjective is a word that describes the noun how can it be the? What is describing the table?’

Rich: (desperately trying to work out what he has not said) ‘black’

Me: By now I am talking in a very high pitched voice trying not to laugh’ Yes! So if we put our adjective before our noun, what is an adjective?’

Rich:’Table’

Me: (rolling up with high pitched laughter) ‘I give up! I haven’t even got to French yet! You can’t speak English you’ve got no hope with French!’

So moving on to Friday night: I’m cooking the ‘Friday Night Kebab’ with my back to the kitchen. We’re jimbied up (got our pyjamas on), hubby’s milling round the kitchen. Suddenly I hear what sounds like a bumble bee on steroids: I turn to look and see my husband spinning round the kitchen, whilst blowing a continuous raspberry, and spinning either end of his dressing gown belt around. I started to giggle:

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m a helicopter’

‘Are you really!’

He’s 56 this year!

And that’s why I love him.

Moisy

There is nothing like being in the crisp, cold air…

18 Sunday Nov 2018

Posted by in My home, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life, The seasons

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You’ll all be glad to know that the Incredible Hulk is now back in his cage.

Yesterday after blogging and writing I spent the afternoon in the garden with hubby and the puppies.

The sun was shining on this late autumn day, and it was cold, with a nippy wind, and I loved it. I let the cold air blow through my brain, and remind me, as the Tao so often does, that what is needed is what you’ve got.

We spent the afternoon using our wonderful new tool that has been a life saver for Rich, the log splitter:

Nearly three years ago we chopped down fourteen pine trees that divided our garden and cut out the light. They were big babies and trying to cut through them with just a chainsaw was nigh on impossible.

But with the log splitter life was made easy because Rich could cut the logs to the right size and the log splitter did the rest. Making light work of it – almost

They’ve been protection for the chickens, an extra to make sure Wiglet could not get under the wire. They have been used to hold the fencing down around the garden, and they have been used as perches for the chooks. But the time has come to use them, before they rot.

There is nothing more rewarding than using what is available to you, letting nothing go to waste. Add to these the logs we have from the sycamore we pollarded in January, with more to cut; and the oak logs, with more to cut, that will not be ready until the winter after next, and we are set up for the next three winters.

So the log store is full with a mixture of pine and hardwood (you can burn pine providing you mix it with other woods) I’ve burnt calories, the puppies are happy and our garden is getting tidy, in small steps.

I don’t have a lot in material things, but what I do have money cannot buy. I am blessed.

Moisy

Have a good week folks

We have a roof – for the first time in three years!

01 Thursday Nov 2018

Posted by in Change is a coming, My home, People, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life

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This was our roof from three years ago, after it had been attacked by storm Katie and annihalated by a twister going right through our garden.

As most of you know it has been the hardest part of this adventure to find work, or people you can trust to work for; and so we had no money to repair it. I have written only recently how we did not let that stop us, we carried on, we had no choice. (Boy can I see that what Rich and I went through was in prep for this adventure, because we already knew that nothing could beat us!)

But as I wrote in September the roof was finally being replaced; and oh my it is a piece of art!

Our wonderful builder Rob is a skilled man, because the roof had been open to the elements for so long some of the rafters had to be repaired (not replaced because bless him he knew we had to keep costs down.)

Being a carpenter Rob repaired joists and the result, particularly at the back of the roof is stunning; with it’s curves it looks like a wing of one of the kestrels or eagles that fly around us up here.

I love the contrast of the black tiles (black is de rigeur because we are in a protected national park, in fact we have only just found out that our barn is classed as a listed building because it was built in 1812) and the zinc edging that catches the light.

Having lived for three winters with the rain pouring in at times (we only had a worn out old tarp to protect it and we had bowles everywhere catching the water) my husband now dances round the kitchen every time it rains singing the ‘We’re lovely and dry’ song! Small things eh?!

This year we have achieved a lot with new doors and the new roof we are now warm and toasty; which means that the electric heater in the kitchen keeps us warm and the old calor gas fire, that we had in the kitchen, has now been moved up into the bedroom where I write, no more cold feet and hands for me this winter!

Small things, they are what matter.

Moisy

Warm autumn days, preparing for winter.

19 Wednesday Sep 2018

Posted by in My home, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life, The seasons

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It’s been really warm here over the past few weeks, some days have reached over twenty seven degrees, with a beautiful warm breeze.

We have taken advantage of the weather and Rich has been busy sorting some things out in the garden, putting a log stall in place at the side of the house and stacking the logs from the Sycamore that was cut down earlier in the year. Normally the wood takes a year to season, but it has been so hot this summer it is tinder dry and ready to burn. Over the past few years we have stored our wood in the barn, but given that we are now clearing that out, and that it is farther to trek in the bleak midwinter, having stock to hand just outside is better.

The rest will be stored in the old goat shed – the two remaining chickens are on the move (another job that is being tackled soon!) Along with chopping up the logs that are all over the garden (literally).

In addition we have a full log cupboard indoors waiting for the winter onslaught.

I too have been busy, I have signed up for a wedding fayre, or Salon du Mariage, for this Sunday and have been busy designing hearts (and some stars), they are not exclusively for weddings but do make beautiful Aisle decorations, table decorations and gifts; all bespoke all different.

As I have sat in my garden embellishing away I have stopped to look around, and thought there could be worse places to work each day.

I know when to count my blessings.

Here’s one of them, as I sit here writing this, he is laying beside me…..

Have a good day folks, remember do what makes you happy.

Moisy

The balloons

16 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by in My home, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The good life

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I had to share this, as I sit here in my garden on a balmy autumn evening, because I look up and this is what I see….

Balloons flying high in the sky all around our commune. What a sight to see!

Every year there is a balloon race in this area because of the hills and vales of the valleys they have somewhere safe to land, the first year we were here they crashed into our trees!

It is the things like this that help me count my blessings every day. So to celebrate the simple things we’ve poured a glass of wine and are sitting here watching the balloons go by.

What’s not to love?

Have a good week and smile at the small things..

Moisy