My husband and I love France. The people, food, wine, and weather, all combine (in our biased eyes) to make the country special. So on retirement we decided to buy a house and move to France. Simple enough to do, one would think. We had already spent many happy hours, during long sunny holidays, gazing in estate agents windows, and we knew exactly what we wanted.
Our next trip to France was to look for a property in earnest. Armed with information gleaned from the Internet, we were ready to start viewing the delightful homes that had been advertised. My husband, having once been a Boy Scout, still adhered to the motto, Be prepared, which meant that we had already made appointments with three French agents, each one assuring us that the dream properties advertised were still available.
The night before we left, a quick check on the Internet confirmed that our choices were still there; I was so excited that I hardly closed my eyes all night.
The first appointment was a little disappointing. Proffering our computer generated details, the agent flicked through them. “Sold yesterday, sold last week, sold yesterday.” He looked up and smiled. “The market, it moves quickly, no?” Offering reassurance and consolation, he promised to show us a variety of properties that would melt our hearts.
Our hearts did not melt, but they came very near to breaking. We trudged across muddy tracks, peered into derelict barns, gazed up at the sky through missing roof tiles, and made friends with some chickens that had taken up residence in the kitchen of a farmhouse. Clever chickens; it was the only habitable room.
Murmuring our thanks, and expressing a desire to meet with him again (at some unspecified date in the far and distant future) we fled to our hotel, convinced that the next day’s viewing could only bring an improvement.
How naive we were. The second agent also tossed aside our sheets of property details (sold, sold, and sold, the market is very good) and led us on our second expedition. These properties were much better; some of them even had all their roof tiles in place, but they bore no more resemblance to the properties we had so carefully chosen, than a mongrel with fleas and mange does to the winner of Crufts.
Dispirited, we approached the final appointment with fatalistic despair. Handing over our surviving dream pages, we waited for (and received) the information that all three had been sold. This last trip was not as dreadful as the preceding two, as this time we insisted on being told in advance exactly what to expect. Needless to say we didn’t see any of the derelicts that he had chosen for us, but viewed three other properties with definite potential.
French estate agents are convinced that we English are looking for a challenge. Anything that has already been renovated is hidden from our curious eyes. Not for us the centrally heated, double-glazed modern buildings, no, we require something at least three hundred years old and falling to bits.
The sad thing is, they are right. We eventually found our perfect house, and it was nothing like the properties that we had asked to view. Our request for three bedrooms and two reception rooms with a small garden, somehow converted itself into a dilapidated, seven bedroomed, triple story maison de maître, standing in its own grounds of nearly two acres.
Although French Immobilières speak with the same forked tongues as British Estate Agents, they do have much sexier accents. Here is a glossary of frequently used terms; swimming aids, for those about to dip a toe into the waters of French property purchase.
A little isolated: No neighbours for at least ten miles.
Rural: Next door to a dairy farm, flies will be constant summer companions.
Needs renovation: No running water, electricity, or gas.
Partly renovated: Has running water and electricity.
Renovated: The property boasts a bathroom attached to the kitchen.
Renovated by a charming British couple: D.I.Y job, done on the cheap during holidays spent in France. In addition to the bathroom behind the kitchen, there is a shower cubicle off the salon.
Suitable for holiday use: Not fit to be lived in, except during summer months.
Easy to maintain garden: Gravel.
Land with mature trees: Has a forest attached (local hunters have right of way).
Outbuildings: Various structures on the point of collapse.
Gîte income possible: Crumbling outbuildings could be rebuilt as holiday apartments.
© Lorraine Mace 2003
