Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Monday 24 October 2005
At the chorale last Thursday there was rather more talking and less singing than usual; mainly explanations and directions for an event I was unable to take part in as it was the day I went to Lille. It consisted of a kind of competion for choral conductors, for which the choir represented a sort of raw material; with a rehearsal on the Sunday followed by a concert on Tuesday. There is another concert however on Saturday 8 November, same programme and dress as the last one I took part in, at Stains, just north of Saint-Denis, to which we shall all be ferried by car. Fortunately when I am in Italy this week I shall not miss a rehearsal as there isn't one due to vacances scolaires (half term) and I shall be back in time for the Thursday after, as we arrive back in Paris early in the morning. So the last rehearsal was spent mainly in learning a modern popular song called Chanter, ready for our encore (!) and a gospel version of "This Little Light of Mine", with amusing pronunciation and even more amusing phonetic spelling by some of the members.
On Sunday I went to Lille for the day; N drove me to the Gare du Nord in plenty of time to catch the 9.00 am train. (It is only two stations away, but we didn't know how often the trains were on Sunday mornings.) The train to Lille was a TGV and only took an hour. I found Madeleine's hotel with the aid of a free map from the station, but the day turned out rather differently from expected, as not only were Richard's parents also visiting Lille with them, but they – and Richard too as the day wore on – were all very unwell due to something eaten the day before. M, R & I visited a café where they had breakfast and I showed them all my photos, then we waited in vain for some time in a bar and at the hotel for the parents to turn up, and by about 1.30 Richard decided he wasn't up to lunch either, so M and I set off on our own and found a very popular crowded restaurant where we had a long leisurely lunch, which eventually became afternoon tea in the end. We also visited the tail end of a market, and then went back to the hotel again to check on our invalids. R decided to come out with us for fresh air, but after half a fruit juice went back, and M and I did a lot more strolling and window shopping.
The city impressed me very much; similar to Brussels and Calais and pictures I had seen of Amsterdam, but with very wide streets and squares and individually different buildings squashed side by side together. As it was Sunday almost all the shops were shut, and early in the morning there were very few people about, but by late afternoon the cafés were all crowded. There were one or two very special shops I would like to visit again, including a wonderful chocolate shop where I bought a very superior bar of fruit and nut for N, and a soap shop called Nous Savons Tout. I hope I will be able to go again for the day with N, nearer Christmas. I think it was just as well for M that I was there, as she would have spent a lot of the day on her own! As it was, there was not a lot of time between tea and supper – which we thought we should begin about 6.30, as my train left at 8.00 pm. It began to rain, and then got much stronger, and we ended up eating in a not very special brasserie by the station. My journey back to Saint-Denis was quick and uneventful; I read a copy of Good Housekeeping passed on by M, and only had to wait about 10 minutes for a train at the Gare du Nord.
Today I have been to the hairdresser! The one I liked the look of, by the covered market. I turned up at about 2.30, and a very polite lady said they were busy, and could I come back in half an hour; I did the rest of my shopping and went back; was given a blue overall with a pocket in the sleeve in which was put my fiche – a bit like your order in a restaurant – and after waiting a few minutes, had my hair shampooed, the first time in years. A very competent lady then cut it, entirely with clippers, from the ends of her fingers or the comb; I had asked for a centimetre off all over, and was very pleased with the result, which she then blow dried and waxed. I was very impressed with the salon altogether; very brisk, hygienic and friendly. I discovered my stylist was called Maria, and the whole thing cost 28 euros.
Tomorrow we set off for Italy, take the car in the morning – so will have to have our luggage packed tonight, apart from overnight bags which we take on the train with us tomorrow evening. We are busy eating up what is in the fridge; and doing washing and dealing with paperwork; fortunately most of mine now seems finished and up to date; everything to do with Ainsworth Street completed, the new internet bank account set up and nothing more to do for the new house until we hear the date for the final signatures. So it's a good time to go way for a week!
At the chorale last Thursday there was rather more talking and less singing than usual; mainly explanations and directions for an event I was unable to take part in as it was the day I went to Lille. It consisted of a kind of competion for choral conductors, for which the choir represented a sort of raw material; with a rehearsal on the Sunday followed by a concert on Tuesday. There is another concert however on Saturday 8 November, same programme and dress as the last one I took part in, at Stains, just north of Saint-Denis, to which we shall all be ferried by car. Fortunately when I am in Italy this week I shall not miss a rehearsal as there isn't one due to vacances scolaires (half term) and I shall be back in time for the Thursday after, as we arrive back in Paris early in the morning. So the last rehearsal was spent mainly in learning a modern popular song called Chanter, ready for our encore (!) and a gospel version of "This Little Light of Mine", with amusing pronunciation and even more amusing phonetic spelling by some of the members.
On Sunday I went to Lille for the day; N drove me to the Gare du Nord in plenty of time to catch the 9.00 am train. (It is only two stations away, but we didn't know how often the trains were on Sunday mornings.) The train to Lille was a TGV and only took an hour. I found Madeleine's hotel with the aid of a free map from the station, but the day turned out rather differently from expected, as not only were Richard's parents also visiting Lille with them, but they – and Richard too as the day wore on – were all very unwell due to something eaten the day before. M, R & I visited a café where they had breakfast and I showed them all my photos, then we waited in vain for some time in a bar and at the hotel for the parents to turn up, and by about 1.30 Richard decided he wasn't up to lunch either, so M and I set off on our own and found a very popular crowded restaurant where we had a long leisurely lunch, which eventually became afternoon tea in the end. We also visited the tail end of a market, and then went back to the hotel again to check on our invalids. R decided to come out with us for fresh air, but after half a fruit juice went back, and M and I did a lot more strolling and window shopping.
The city impressed me very much; similar to Brussels and Calais and pictures I had seen of Amsterdam, but with very wide streets and squares and individually different buildings squashed side by side together. As it was Sunday almost all the shops were shut, and early in the morning there were very few people about, but by late afternoon the cafés were all crowded. There were one or two very special shops I would like to visit again, including a wonderful chocolate shop where I bought a very superior bar of fruit and nut for N, and a soap shop called Nous Savons Tout. I hope I will be able to go again for the day with N, nearer Christmas. I think it was just as well for M that I was there, as she would have spent a lot of the day on her own! As it was, there was not a lot of time between tea and supper – which we thought we should begin about 6.30, as my train left at 8.00 pm. It began to rain, and then got much stronger, and we ended up eating in a not very special brasserie by the station. My journey back to Saint-Denis was quick and uneventful; I read a copy of Good Housekeeping passed on by M, and only had to wait about 10 minutes for a train at the Gare du Nord.
Today I have been to the hairdresser! The one I liked the look of, by the covered market. I turned up at about 2.30, and a very polite lady said they were busy, and could I come back in half an hour; I did the rest of my shopping and went back; was given a blue overall with a pocket in the sleeve in which was put my fiche – a bit like your order in a restaurant – and after waiting a few minutes, had my hair shampooed, the first time in years. A very competent lady then cut it, entirely with clippers, from the ends of her fingers or the comb; I had asked for a centimetre off all over, and was very pleased with the result, which she then blow dried and waxed. I was very impressed with the salon altogether; very brisk, hygienic and friendly. I discovered my stylist was called Maria, and the whole thing cost 28 euros.
Tomorrow we set off for Italy, take the car in the morning – so will have to have our luggage packed tonight, apart from overnight bags which we take on the train with us tomorrow evening. We are busy eating up what is in the fridge; and doing washing and dealing with paperwork; fortunately most of mine now seems finished and up to date; everything to do with Ainsworth Street completed, the new internet bank account set up and nothing more to do for the new house until we hear the date for the final signatures. So it's a good time to go way for a week!
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Friday 14 October 2005
Since buying the house in Normandy, and settling in and getting used to living here, there hasn't seemed much else to do while waiting to be able to move in mid–December, apart from our next visit to view the house on Monday. However, there are a few dates to look forward to in the diary, and the first is next Saturday 22nd when I am going to meet daughter Madeleine and partner Richard in Lille, which they visit often. N and I are then going to Italy from Wednesday 26 October until Thursday 3 November; this is our belated "summer holiday" originally planned for August, when I thought moving here would be much sooner. The tickets for Italy were booked at the SNCF office at Châtelet last week, during one of our trips to Paris. This is a journey N has done often and I have only heard about, and am looking forward to: putting the car on the train in Paris in the morning, joining it in the evening, sleeping in a wagon lit, waking up in Nice, and then driving on to Italy. I am of course looking forward to being in Italy again, and seeing my favourite places, and the fact that we are expecting lunch guests on the Sunday; N's English contact Lindsay who keeps an eye on the apartment there, and another guest or two. We have already begun to consider what we might cook.
We also have some musical dates booked: Tristan & Isolde at Opera Bastille on 12 November, cello masterclasses at La Cité de la Musique on 20 November, the Nutcracker on 3 December and Boris Goudenov on 11 December.
Another first today – I have been to the local Yves Rocher Institut de Beauté round the corner and had my eyebrows shaped, much as happens in Cambridge. I am amazed, not for the first time, how alike all Yves Rocher salons are whatever country they are in. This was fairly easy to find as it is the next street; it will be a harder task to find a hairdresser in the few weeks; N recommends his (a unisex establishment) on the grounds that one doesn't have to wait long, and that they don't play awful music, though these are not my criteria for a good hairdresser. It has to be said though, that there are pictures of white men and women in the window, whereas the majority of Saint-Denis hairdressers feature afro hairstyles.
The local free Saint-Denis newspaper has a piece about the forthcoming concert to be given by the adult chorale tomorrow, in which I shall take part. It also has a small ad section full of people looking for work; I shall consider placing an advertisement for English conversation classes, and seeing what happens.
Sunday 16 October 2005
An exciting afternoon yesterday, my first concert with the Saint-Denis chorale. N drove me to the church as it was difficult to get to, but in the end not far. The rehearsal began at 4 and the concert at 6.30. I enjoyed it all; there were even more exercises to begin with, breathing and posture too, almost like my Pilates classes. We rehearsed processing in singing, and mounting and leaving the platform. There was a break from about 5.40, welcome as we had been on our feet since 4. A lot was sung from memory; I tried hard to remember the Latin anthem to be sung while processing, and just about remembered it. I don’t think I have learned music and words like this simply by hearing since I was about six. N arrived in time for the concert which only took about an hour, including an interval to take a collection on behalf of the church and the accompanist. There was a reasonable sized audience, who clapped between movements of the mass, like N's orchestra audience who applaud between symphony movements. I felt by the end that I was beginning to know some of the other members better, and look forward to seeing them next Thursday. All in all it was an extremely pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Our "chef" said that now the programme of singing would alter and that there would be more light-hearted repertoire, in preparation for a "Telethon" of singing on 3 December (which is when N & I are due to see The Nutcracker) but I shall enjoy the rehearsals. Also, I think I may ask one or two of the more bien coiffée ladies if they can recommend me a hairdresser. We were home by 7.30, and I was very glad I had cooked Tuscan Bean Stew for dinner in the afternoon before leaving, and that N had bought some patisseries for dessert.
Wednesday 19 October 2005
We spend a lot of time here listening to a radio station called Radio Classique, (in the bathroom and library/bedroom) a little less formal than France Musique, and one which tends to play symphonies and concertos one movement at a time, and a fair amount of publicity. The radio in the kitchen was at one time permanently tuned to BBC World Service, but N got increasingly fed up with news of the injury details of various African football teams, so we now listen to BBC Radio 4 in the kitchen, and hear Today and Yesterday in Parliament, and are keeping abreast of the Conservative Party leadership contest. We watch TV news at 7 and or 8 in the evening and not much else, (except last Saturday when there were excellent programmes on Michelangelo and Leonard Bernstein) but are working our way through a large pile of videos which N has been preparing since I was last here in March. Apart from some interesting programmes on French heritage and antiques, we have watched 6 different episodes of Morse (N especially saved for me two involving a choir and a foreign examination syndicate) and still have many hours of the late Pope's funeral and the new Pope's inauguration to sit through; the former recorded in France and the latter in Italy. We have also watched various operas and ballets, including "La Bohème" which reduced us both to tears, and required stiff drinks afterwards.
N says that the train we are taking to Nice next week is "Le Train Bleu", so called because it takes one to the blue skies and seas of Nice, which it makes it all even more exciting. He also says that the wagon lits are equipped with chamber pots, which when used and put way in a cupboard, empty themselves out onto the track! This sounds fascinating, can't wait to see.
Last Monday we returned to our White House at La Neuve-Lyre for the second visit to the inside of the house. We left Paris at 7.50 am before it was really light, the first time I have been up this early for a long time! We were due there at 11.00 but arrived a little late; there was a lot of traffic getting out of Paris and pockets of fog, and I kept thinking winter must really have arrived, but then we were out in the sunshine again, and Normandy looked so beautiful with gold and brown and red leaves on the trees, and such big sweeping blue skies, and the same white cows and timbered houses which are now beginning to look so familiar.
Mme V kindly let us wander around on our own; N took lots of photos and I made notes in a note book, mostly of the colours of walls and flooring, but also of positions of radiators. We sent a lot of time in the salon, some of it having coffee with Mme V before we left, and it really is a beautiful room, especially with sunlight coming through the front door into the hall. The salon has golden walls, a black and white tiled floor and lots of matt white woodwork and doors, some with small panes of glass. I spent time in the main bedroom, where there is a small private bathroom (old apricot/pink suite) and lovely window to the garden, a balcony, large white fireplace with mirror over, and big alcove where there is currently a bed, but which I don't think is wide enough to take N's large Italian bed. I took in all the other bedrooms and bathrooms, some of which I had no clear memory of, and decided the little room next to the main bedroom should be an ironing/sewing room. There will be a lot of curtains to be made!
There is a rather large and scruffy downstairs loo, + basin and bidet which I feel could and should be made into a ground floor bathroom. Apart from this and the private bathroom; there is another room with basin and shower but no loo, on the way up to the attics. There are two of these, up in the roof with lots of dark exposed beams, about which N is very excited, and the larger of which will be his study. It is a little difficult to visualise at present as it is full of teenage daughter paraphernalia. Both attics have good quality new light red carpets.
We have spent a lot of time discussing the best use of a very large square room at the far end of the house on the ground floor – bookshelves, a TV room, a bed settee for a guest room, a long table for a more formal dining room, or some combination of all or any of these. The current dining room (or coin repas as it was described) turned out to be larger than N had remembered, fortunately as I hope to have my dresser and current dining table in there, and possibly glass-fronted book case for more china. The kitchen I am less sure about, how much will need altering. At present there are white walls (a plus!) off-white floor, and small red tiles between the work surfaces and wall cupboards. It is about 35 years since I had a red kitchen, but think I could get used to the idea again. The wall cupboards have black slatted doors, which I definitely don't like, but perhaps they could be painted white. There is a nice shaped window looking onto the garden, and another window out on to what is described as a verandah, but which N refers to as the conservatoire, and doesn’t think much of. I feel that if it were tided, painted and given plants and wicker furniture it could be very attractive.
At present the verandah is home to a guinea pig in a cage, and to the mother cat and kittens we saw on our first visit. I saw that this time there were two kittens instead of three, and didn't like to think what had become of the third beautiful cream-coloured one, until I realised that they were now about two months old and big enough to leave home, and Mme V said that was so. This left a short-haired black one, like a young Albertine, and a lovely long-haired ginger one. While discussing the garden I mentioned that we were thinking of having a cat here, and Mme V said straight away would we like the third (ginger) kitten, as the second (black) one was already promised! She said that one (mother) cat would be quite enough in a Paris apartment. We said no, as we couldn't see how this would work if we were moving in around Christmas, but I kept thinking of him all the way home, and wonder if she will ask us again.
We eventually left at about 12.40 and after exploring a little in the next village – La Vieille Lyre – went on to Evreux to inspect the station and its parking facilities, and to see what we could find out about trains and buses. Mme V had already told us that it was very simple to park there and get the train into Paris (just over an hour to St Lazare) and we had passed it on our way, and noticed a large and pretty restaurant with lots of parking outside. The station itself was large and imposing, and reminded me of Ipswich station. We had an excellent lunch at the restaurant, and noted the possibility of bringing large or small parties of guests in the future, and then discovered a large car park, and times of buses to and fro from La Neuve-Lyre. Once back in Paris – by yet another exciting route! - we discovered that some of the trains between Evreux and St Lazare stop at Conches, even nearer to La Neuve-Lyre. N's reason for all this was to see how easy it would be to get back to Paris without having to use the car, and by leaving at a station. My reason was to know that I could be mobile in case I ever found myself living alone at La Neuve-Lyre, and to see whether visitors could get there under their own steam.
Thursday 20 October 2005
So far this week I have been to the cinema twice – a big 20 screen cinema at Châtelet where the RER train from Saint-Denis arrives in central Paris. I think it could become a very pleasant habit, especially as it gets colder and darker, and while in Paris before moving to Normandy. I must find out how one can get membership. Earlier in the week I saw Caché, a very puzzling thriller- so puzzling in fact that it was being discussed in the Ladies afterwards - and today N & I saw the latest Wallace & Gromit, (in its original northern English version) which made us laugh a lot. The other main reason for going to Châtelet is to take in and pick up photos at FNAC; we now have a large number of the inside of the house too, helping us to remember things and make plans. I shall take these when I see Madeleine in Lille at the weekend; on Sunday now rather than Saturday.
Since buying the house in Normandy, and settling in and getting used to living here, there hasn't seemed much else to do while waiting to be able to move in mid–December, apart from our next visit to view the house on Monday. However, there are a few dates to look forward to in the diary, and the first is next Saturday 22nd when I am going to meet daughter Madeleine and partner Richard in Lille, which they visit often. N and I are then going to Italy from Wednesday 26 October until Thursday 3 November; this is our belated "summer holiday" originally planned for August, when I thought moving here would be much sooner. The tickets for Italy were booked at the SNCF office at Châtelet last week, during one of our trips to Paris. This is a journey N has done often and I have only heard about, and am looking forward to: putting the car on the train in Paris in the morning, joining it in the evening, sleeping in a wagon lit, waking up in Nice, and then driving on to Italy. I am of course looking forward to being in Italy again, and seeing my favourite places, and the fact that we are expecting lunch guests on the Sunday; N's English contact Lindsay who keeps an eye on the apartment there, and another guest or two. We have already begun to consider what we might cook.
We also have some musical dates booked: Tristan & Isolde at Opera Bastille on 12 November, cello masterclasses at La Cité de la Musique on 20 November, the Nutcracker on 3 December and Boris Goudenov on 11 December.
Another first today – I have been to the local Yves Rocher Institut de Beauté round the corner and had my eyebrows shaped, much as happens in Cambridge. I am amazed, not for the first time, how alike all Yves Rocher salons are whatever country they are in. This was fairly easy to find as it is the next street; it will be a harder task to find a hairdresser in the few weeks; N recommends his (a unisex establishment) on the grounds that one doesn't have to wait long, and that they don't play awful music, though these are not my criteria for a good hairdresser. It has to be said though, that there are pictures of white men and women in the window, whereas the majority of Saint-Denis hairdressers feature afro hairstyles.
The local free Saint-Denis newspaper has a piece about the forthcoming concert to be given by the adult chorale tomorrow, in which I shall take part. It also has a small ad section full of people looking for work; I shall consider placing an advertisement for English conversation classes, and seeing what happens.
Sunday 16 October 2005
An exciting afternoon yesterday, my first concert with the Saint-Denis chorale. N drove me to the church as it was difficult to get to, but in the end not far. The rehearsal began at 4 and the concert at 6.30. I enjoyed it all; there were even more exercises to begin with, breathing and posture too, almost like my Pilates classes. We rehearsed processing in singing, and mounting and leaving the platform. There was a break from about 5.40, welcome as we had been on our feet since 4. A lot was sung from memory; I tried hard to remember the Latin anthem to be sung while processing, and just about remembered it. I don’t think I have learned music and words like this simply by hearing since I was about six. N arrived in time for the concert which only took about an hour, including an interval to take a collection on behalf of the church and the accompanist. There was a reasonable sized audience, who clapped between movements of the mass, like N's orchestra audience who applaud between symphony movements. I felt by the end that I was beginning to know some of the other members better, and look forward to seeing them next Thursday. All in all it was an extremely pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Our "chef" said that now the programme of singing would alter and that there would be more light-hearted repertoire, in preparation for a "Telethon" of singing on 3 December (which is when N & I are due to see The Nutcracker) but I shall enjoy the rehearsals. Also, I think I may ask one or two of the more bien coiffée ladies if they can recommend me a hairdresser. We were home by 7.30, and I was very glad I had cooked Tuscan Bean Stew for dinner in the afternoon before leaving, and that N had bought some patisseries for dessert.
Wednesday 19 October 2005
We spend a lot of time here listening to a radio station called Radio Classique, (in the bathroom and library/bedroom) a little less formal than France Musique, and one which tends to play symphonies and concertos one movement at a time, and a fair amount of publicity. The radio in the kitchen was at one time permanently tuned to BBC World Service, but N got increasingly fed up with news of the injury details of various African football teams, so we now listen to BBC Radio 4 in the kitchen, and hear Today and Yesterday in Parliament, and are keeping abreast of the Conservative Party leadership contest. We watch TV news at 7 and or 8 in the evening and not much else, (except last Saturday when there were excellent programmes on Michelangelo and Leonard Bernstein) but are working our way through a large pile of videos which N has been preparing since I was last here in March. Apart from some interesting programmes on French heritage and antiques, we have watched 6 different episodes of Morse (N especially saved for me two involving a choir and a foreign examination syndicate) and still have many hours of the late Pope's funeral and the new Pope's inauguration to sit through; the former recorded in France and the latter in Italy. We have also watched various operas and ballets, including "La Bohème" which reduced us both to tears, and required stiff drinks afterwards.
N says that the train we are taking to Nice next week is "Le Train Bleu", so called because it takes one to the blue skies and seas of Nice, which it makes it all even more exciting. He also says that the wagon lits are equipped with chamber pots, which when used and put way in a cupboard, empty themselves out onto the track! This sounds fascinating, can't wait to see.
Last Monday we returned to our White House at La Neuve-Lyre for the second visit to the inside of the house. We left Paris at 7.50 am before it was really light, the first time I have been up this early for a long time! We were due there at 11.00 but arrived a little late; there was a lot of traffic getting out of Paris and pockets of fog, and I kept thinking winter must really have arrived, but then we were out in the sunshine again, and Normandy looked so beautiful with gold and brown and red leaves on the trees, and such big sweeping blue skies, and the same white cows and timbered houses which are now beginning to look so familiar.
Mme V kindly let us wander around on our own; N took lots of photos and I made notes in a note book, mostly of the colours of walls and flooring, but also of positions of radiators. We sent a lot of time in the salon, some of it having coffee with Mme V before we left, and it really is a beautiful room, especially with sunlight coming through the front door into the hall. The salon has golden walls, a black and white tiled floor and lots of matt white woodwork and doors, some with small panes of glass. I spent time in the main bedroom, where there is a small private bathroom (old apricot/pink suite) and lovely window to the garden, a balcony, large white fireplace with mirror over, and big alcove where there is currently a bed, but which I don't think is wide enough to take N's large Italian bed. I took in all the other bedrooms and bathrooms, some of which I had no clear memory of, and decided the little room next to the main bedroom should be an ironing/sewing room. There will be a lot of curtains to be made!
There is a rather large and scruffy downstairs loo, + basin and bidet which I feel could and should be made into a ground floor bathroom. Apart from this and the private bathroom; there is another room with basin and shower but no loo, on the way up to the attics. There are two of these, up in the roof with lots of dark exposed beams, about which N is very excited, and the larger of which will be his study. It is a little difficult to visualise at present as it is full of teenage daughter paraphernalia. Both attics have good quality new light red carpets.
We have spent a lot of time discussing the best use of a very large square room at the far end of the house on the ground floor – bookshelves, a TV room, a bed settee for a guest room, a long table for a more formal dining room, or some combination of all or any of these. The current dining room (or coin repas as it was described) turned out to be larger than N had remembered, fortunately as I hope to have my dresser and current dining table in there, and possibly glass-fronted book case for more china. The kitchen I am less sure about, how much will need altering. At present there are white walls (a plus!) off-white floor, and small red tiles between the work surfaces and wall cupboards. It is about 35 years since I had a red kitchen, but think I could get used to the idea again. The wall cupboards have black slatted doors, which I definitely don't like, but perhaps they could be painted white. There is a nice shaped window looking onto the garden, and another window out on to what is described as a verandah, but which N refers to as the conservatoire, and doesn’t think much of. I feel that if it were tided, painted and given plants and wicker furniture it could be very attractive.
At present the verandah is home to a guinea pig in a cage, and to the mother cat and kittens we saw on our first visit. I saw that this time there were two kittens instead of three, and didn't like to think what had become of the third beautiful cream-coloured one, until I realised that they were now about two months old and big enough to leave home, and Mme V said that was so. This left a short-haired black one, like a young Albertine, and a lovely long-haired ginger one. While discussing the garden I mentioned that we were thinking of having a cat here, and Mme V said straight away would we like the third (ginger) kitten, as the second (black) one was already promised! She said that one (mother) cat would be quite enough in a Paris apartment. We said no, as we couldn't see how this would work if we were moving in around Christmas, but I kept thinking of him all the way home, and wonder if she will ask us again.
We eventually left at about 12.40 and after exploring a little in the next village – La Vieille Lyre – went on to Evreux to inspect the station and its parking facilities, and to see what we could find out about trains and buses. Mme V had already told us that it was very simple to park there and get the train into Paris (just over an hour to St Lazare) and we had passed it on our way, and noticed a large and pretty restaurant with lots of parking outside. The station itself was large and imposing, and reminded me of Ipswich station. We had an excellent lunch at the restaurant, and noted the possibility of bringing large or small parties of guests in the future, and then discovered a large car park, and times of buses to and fro from La Neuve-Lyre. Once back in Paris – by yet another exciting route! - we discovered that some of the trains between Evreux and St Lazare stop at Conches, even nearer to La Neuve-Lyre. N's reason for all this was to see how easy it would be to get back to Paris without having to use the car, and by leaving at a station. My reason was to know that I could be mobile in case I ever found myself living alone at La Neuve-Lyre, and to see whether visitors could get there under their own steam.
Thursday 20 October 2005
So far this week I have been to the cinema twice – a big 20 screen cinema at Châtelet where the RER train from Saint-Denis arrives in central Paris. I think it could become a very pleasant habit, especially as it gets colder and darker, and while in Paris before moving to Normandy. I must find out how one can get membership. Earlier in the week I saw Caché, a very puzzling thriller- so puzzling in fact that it was being discussed in the Ladies afterwards - and today N & I saw the latest Wallace & Gromit, (in its original northern English version) which made us laugh a lot. The other main reason for going to Châtelet is to take in and pick up photos at FNAC; we now have a large number of the inside of the house too, helping us to remember things and make plans. I shall take these when I see Madeleine in Lille at the weekend; on Sunday now rather than Saturday.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Meanwhile, I have slowly been getting used to life here. I have been visiting this apartment two or three times a year since N moved here in 1997, so unlike the two previous occasions when I came to live in France, I have arrived somewhere familiar.
Apart from unpacking all my clothes into the attic bedroom, I have been rearranging things in the bathroom and kitchen – with N's blessing, I might add! He admitted things needed sorting out and rationalising, and at times it has been like an edition of TV's "Life Laundry" as I have thrown out or away things worn out or rarely used, and cleaned and put on display others which are useful or beautiful, as William Morris might say. N seems delighted, and keeps commenting on how much space there is in the kitchen. We have also completely cleaned the loo (separate from bathroom) and N has fitted a new wooden seat, wondering as he did so, what becomes of all the wooden circles cut out of the middle of the seats. I now think about this every time I go in there.
I have been accustoming myself to my new life as a menagère, and getting to grips with the washing machine, the hoover and the iron, the lack of dishwasher and the fact that all the washing has to be hung up and dried in the bathroom (I think longingly of the washing line between two trees in the garden of the White House!) I should add here that responsibility for laundry and cleaning was my choice, not something imposed upon me by N. My most important purchase has been a caddie (shopping trolley) very necessary here as almost all shopping is done in local shops or markets, unlike Britain where shopping for the most part consists of trips to the supermarket by car, or in my case ASDA by bicycle. I have always loved food shopping in France, and am enjoying getting to know local shops, and we both went to Saint-Denis market last Sunday, in its temporary location as the covered market is currently being refurbished. A wonderful experience; you come as far as France but seem to have arrived in Africa. I have also spent a great deal of time queuing in supermarkets and the Post Office, as there have been documents relating to the house purchase to be sent, and paperwork to do with the opening of an internet bank account, and the finalising of things for the house at Ainsworth Street.
At first I seemed to be eating and sleeping far more than in Cambridge, but this has slowly adjusted. I now wake at about 7.45 or 8.00 am, as opposed to 6.15 in Cambridge, partly because the library in which we sleep has thick shutters which are never opened, so is always dark and the only way I know how late it is because of the traffic going past. As for eating, N just says that is "la gastronomie française", but we have now agreed to eat slightly different things and different amounts.
N surprised me by saying that the main difference in my new life here is that I don't know anybody – I regarded the most important differences as (a) I no longer go to the office and (b) I now live as half of a couple. As soon as there was time (in the middle of last week) I tried to find out how I could go about getting to know people by joining a choir and some exercise classes, even though I brought my Plilates video with me, and have so far found time to do this every three or four days. I found the Saint-Denis Union Sports office, and was pleased that it is fairly near, just by the metro station, and was given a comprehensive catalogue which seems to indicate that the sports themselves – a vast array of different activities – happen in a variety of sports halls and stadia. The next step is to discover how far away are those with the activities which interest me: Stretching, Yoga and Low Impact. I went for a very long walk to see the one which seemed nearest, so this needs re-thinking, possibility of a bus, or somewhere else, or a phone call to the name which seems to be in charge of all these activities?
I had more immediate success with the choir; having visited on the same afternoon a Conservatoire de Musique in the street next to la rue des Ursulines. It was a scruffy building full of parents taking children to and fro from music and drama lessons, and reminded me of King Slocombe Ballet School in Cambridge. I knew there was an adult choir too, as I'd seen this in the guide to Saint-Denis, and saw a poster in the entrance for a concert by them on 15 October: Mozart, Gounod and Couperin, which seemed promising. When I eventually managed to speak to someone I was told just to turn up on Thursday evening at 7.00 pm. I spent Thursday in a slight state of anxiety, in case there were difficult auditions, or the standard was impossibly high, or in case I couldn't join just before a concert – all quite likely with Cambridge choirs. I needn't have worried however; I met some friendly ladies in the lift who told me just to come in and sit down with everybody else. I was amused by the fact that before any singing took place, there was a great deal of discussion as to which colour blouses the ladies would wear for which concert; (in this case black or red) definitely par for the course with Cambridge choirs, and couldn't help thinking that I had thrown out at least two red shirts and one black one before leaving Cambridge, although I have since found a black one I had forgotten about.
I have now been to two rehearsals, and it seems that the choir is run by the community for the community, so the standard is not very high, which suits me fine. There seem to be several concerts about now for which they have been rehearsing for some time.
So far I have sung Mozart's Ave Verum Corpus, which I know and love; La Cantique de Jean Racine which I have heard but not sung before, and is beautiful, a mass by Gounod - nice and simple, and something by Couperin. Then it all gets a bit vague – a Slav liturgy, something Italian renaissance and a folk song in an eastern European language.
The best things about it are that we do lots of voice exercises at the beginning, there is lots of standing up, no costly set editions to buy (everyone just gets given a load of photocopies) and that it's in the next street. I haven't actually been inscrit yet, so I don' know how much it all costs. Our "chef" who was quite happy for me to sing in concerts, says that it's not always sacred music; sometimes it's jazz or gospel (I haven't told N this yet, as he might have a fit) and that soon we will be doing some choruses from Rameau's Les Indes Galantes, which I like but didn't know had any words. I have bought myself a plastic folder from the supermarket in which to keep all the photocopies.
There was a concert last Sunday out of which I opted as it was a bit soon, and required a red shirt, see above; but hope to take part in the one on Saturday 15th, as it is not far, in Saint-Denis, and black is to be worn.
Meanwhile the weather has been beautifully warm here over the last few days, and yesterday we went into Paris (for only the second or third time since I arrived) and visited a wonderful exhibition of medieval bestiaries at the Bibliothèque Nationale. We also saw a new museum of cinema, La Cinémathèque Française, which has a marvellous constant programme of classic films, to which I shall certainly return, and then spent a long time in some new gardens at Bercy, including vegetable gardens tended by local school children, and I said to N that I supposed that this is what retired people do, spend Tuesday afternoons walking in parks, and he said he preferred sitting in parks. As we were by then a very long way from Saint-Denis, we managed to find a bus to take us as far as the Gare St Lazare, on our metro line home, and had a wonderful slow ride over the river twice and past Notre Dame, les bouquinistes, Saint-Michel, La place de la Concorde and La Madeleine, before arriving in front of the Gare Saint Lazare.
Apart from unpacking all my clothes into the attic bedroom, I have been rearranging things in the bathroom and kitchen – with N's blessing, I might add! He admitted things needed sorting out and rationalising, and at times it has been like an edition of TV's "Life Laundry" as I have thrown out or away things worn out or rarely used, and cleaned and put on display others which are useful or beautiful, as William Morris might say. N seems delighted, and keeps commenting on how much space there is in the kitchen. We have also completely cleaned the loo (separate from bathroom) and N has fitted a new wooden seat, wondering as he did so, what becomes of all the wooden circles cut out of the middle of the seats. I now think about this every time I go in there.
I have been accustoming myself to my new life as a menagère, and getting to grips with the washing machine, the hoover and the iron, the lack of dishwasher and the fact that all the washing has to be hung up and dried in the bathroom (I think longingly of the washing line between two trees in the garden of the White House!) I should add here that responsibility for laundry and cleaning was my choice, not something imposed upon me by N. My most important purchase has been a caddie (shopping trolley) very necessary here as almost all shopping is done in local shops or markets, unlike Britain where shopping for the most part consists of trips to the supermarket by car, or in my case ASDA by bicycle. I have always loved food shopping in France, and am enjoying getting to know local shops, and we both went to Saint-Denis market last Sunday, in its temporary location as the covered market is currently being refurbished. A wonderful experience; you come as far as France but seem to have arrived in Africa. I have also spent a great deal of time queuing in supermarkets and the Post Office, as there have been documents relating to the house purchase to be sent, and paperwork to do with the opening of an internet bank account, and the finalising of things for the house at Ainsworth Street.
At first I seemed to be eating and sleeping far more than in Cambridge, but this has slowly adjusted. I now wake at about 7.45 or 8.00 am, as opposed to 6.15 in Cambridge, partly because the library in which we sleep has thick shutters which are never opened, so is always dark and the only way I know how late it is because of the traffic going past. As for eating, N just says that is "la gastronomie française", but we have now agreed to eat slightly different things and different amounts.
N surprised me by saying that the main difference in my new life here is that I don't know anybody – I regarded the most important differences as (a) I no longer go to the office and (b) I now live as half of a couple. As soon as there was time (in the middle of last week) I tried to find out how I could go about getting to know people by joining a choir and some exercise classes, even though I brought my Plilates video with me, and have so far found time to do this every three or four days. I found the Saint-Denis Union Sports office, and was pleased that it is fairly near, just by the metro station, and was given a comprehensive catalogue which seems to indicate that the sports themselves – a vast array of different activities – happen in a variety of sports halls and stadia. The next step is to discover how far away are those with the activities which interest me: Stretching, Yoga and Low Impact. I went for a very long walk to see the one which seemed nearest, so this needs re-thinking, possibility of a bus, or somewhere else, or a phone call to the name which seems to be in charge of all these activities?
I had more immediate success with the choir; having visited on the same afternoon a Conservatoire de Musique in the street next to la rue des Ursulines. It was a scruffy building full of parents taking children to and fro from music and drama lessons, and reminded me of King Slocombe Ballet School in Cambridge. I knew there was an adult choir too, as I'd seen this in the guide to Saint-Denis, and saw a poster in the entrance for a concert by them on 15 October: Mozart, Gounod and Couperin, which seemed promising. When I eventually managed to speak to someone I was told just to turn up on Thursday evening at 7.00 pm. I spent Thursday in a slight state of anxiety, in case there were difficult auditions, or the standard was impossibly high, or in case I couldn't join just before a concert – all quite likely with Cambridge choirs. I needn't have worried however; I met some friendly ladies in the lift who told me just to come in and sit down with everybody else. I was amused by the fact that before any singing took place, there was a great deal of discussion as to which colour blouses the ladies would wear for which concert; (in this case black or red) definitely par for the course with Cambridge choirs, and couldn't help thinking that I had thrown out at least two red shirts and one black one before leaving Cambridge, although I have since found a black one I had forgotten about.
I have now been to two rehearsals, and it seems that the choir is run by the community for the community, so the standard is not very high, which suits me fine. There seem to be several concerts about now for which they have been rehearsing for some time.
So far I have sung Mozart's Ave Verum Corpus, which I know and love; La Cantique de Jean Racine which I have heard but not sung before, and is beautiful, a mass by Gounod - nice and simple, and something by Couperin. Then it all gets a bit vague – a Slav liturgy, something Italian renaissance and a folk song in an eastern European language.
The best things about it are that we do lots of voice exercises at the beginning, there is lots of standing up, no costly set editions to buy (everyone just gets given a load of photocopies) and that it's in the next street. I haven't actually been inscrit yet, so I don' know how much it all costs. Our "chef" who was quite happy for me to sing in concerts, says that it's not always sacred music; sometimes it's jazz or gospel (I haven't told N this yet, as he might have a fit) and that soon we will be doing some choruses from Rameau's Les Indes Galantes, which I like but didn't know had any words. I have bought myself a plastic folder from the supermarket in which to keep all the photocopies.
There was a concert last Sunday out of which I opted as it was a bit soon, and required a red shirt, see above; but hope to take part in the one on Saturday 15th, as it is not far, in Saint-Denis, and black is to be worn.
Meanwhile the weather has been beautifully warm here over the last few days, and yesterday we went into Paris (for only the second or third time since I arrived) and visited a wonderful exhibition of medieval bestiaries at the Bibliothèque Nationale. We also saw a new museum of cinema, La Cinémathèque Française, which has a marvellous constant programme of classic films, to which I shall certainly return, and then spent a long time in some new gardens at Bercy, including vegetable gardens tended by local school children, and I said to N that I supposed that this is what retired people do, spend Tuesday afternoons walking in parks, and he said he preferred sitting in parks. As we were by then a very long way from Saint-Denis, we managed to find a bus to take us as far as the Gare St Lazare, on our metro line home, and had a wonderful slow ride over the river twice and past Notre Dame, les bouquinistes, Saint-Michel, La place de la Concorde and La Madeleine, before arriving in front of the Gare Saint Lazare.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
We were both astounded to receive a phone call the following morning, Thursday, at around 9.00 am saying that our offer had been accepted! We had expected at the very least a little delay or discussion. N said "Get dressed, we have to go and see the notaire!" conveniently the notaire who had acted for N in his purchase of the Saint-Denis apartment is only a few doors down the road. We managed to see him; he agreed to act and telephoned the agent and the appointment for the signing of the compromis de vente was arranged for the day after, Friday 30th, back at the agency at Conches, but told us that the final signing would take place two and a half months later. Still hardly unable to believe what was happening, we continued with the necessary procedures to open my internet euro account, ready to transfer the necessary funds.
On Friday morning we set off again in the direction of Normandy, a slightly different route as we were heading directly for Conches, and N was anxious to time the journey exactly, and estimated it to be about two hours. As we arrived it was colder than Paris and raining and I realised that from now on it would be wise never to set off for Normandy without a raincoat or umbrella or both. We had lunch in a little local bistro and sheltered in the church until it was time for the appointment at the agence, and for the first time met the vendor of the house, Mme V; at the viewing we had only met her mother.
The signing was a fairly solemn legal process, lightened somewhat by the fact that our agent had forgotten his glasses, but was able to see perfectly with N's, which were passed to and fro throughout. We also learned that the final date could be as late as 15 January, as Mme V had to make arrangements for her children to change schools. We had hoped to see the house again afterwards, but this was not possible, and we arranged to come back on 17 October.
We went anyway to see it again from the outside, and the road at the back with the entrances to the garages, (complete with a bank of irises) which we had not seen the first time. Apart from the little supermarket and the market place there were a boulangerie, boucherie, traiteur, bureau de poste, pharmacie, quincaillerie, charcutier, antique dealer, electro-ménager, coiffeur, taxi and bicycle repair shop, plus the church, the Mairie and the school. Outside the house opposite a neighbour was cleaning her front windows; we stopped and introduced ourselves – she hadn't known the house was for sale, and N was pleased to think we had contributed some village gossip. We had attracted a few stares as we walked round, looking like well dressed Parisians, particularly going past the hairdresser, who looked up in amazement with hairdryer in hand, obviously having seen me with a haircut she had not done herself. Our new neighbour said that our house had been let go a little over the last few years, but before had been "une vraie perle", and we said we intended to improve it again. N was especially worried about the shutters on the street side, which the neighbour said had not been opened for three years, and that it was very depressing to look out every day at closed shutters. We had been told – and observed for ourselves – that very heavy lorries passed down the street frequently, but that a by-pass was planned to start very soon.
As we left we agreed that the neighbour, who was very pleasant, should be invited round at the earliest possible opportunity, only differing in that N thought she should be offered coffee à la française, and I thought tea would be more suitable from an English household. The rain grew more persistent, and N's optimistic morning journey calculations were rather upset as driving rain and more intense traffic jams as we got nearer to Paris meant that the trip home took four hours instead of two.
On Friday morning we set off again in the direction of Normandy, a slightly different route as we were heading directly for Conches, and N was anxious to time the journey exactly, and estimated it to be about two hours. As we arrived it was colder than Paris and raining and I realised that from now on it would be wise never to set off for Normandy without a raincoat or umbrella or both. We had lunch in a little local bistro and sheltered in the church until it was time for the appointment at the agence, and for the first time met the vendor of the house, Mme V; at the viewing we had only met her mother.
The signing was a fairly solemn legal process, lightened somewhat by the fact that our agent had forgotten his glasses, but was able to see perfectly with N's, which were passed to and fro throughout. We also learned that the final date could be as late as 15 January, as Mme V had to make arrangements for her children to change schools. We had hoped to see the house again afterwards, but this was not possible, and we arranged to come back on 17 October.
We went anyway to see it again from the outside, and the road at the back with the entrances to the garages, (complete with a bank of irises) which we had not seen the first time. Apart from the little supermarket and the market place there were a boulangerie, boucherie, traiteur, bureau de poste, pharmacie, quincaillerie, charcutier, antique dealer, electro-ménager, coiffeur, taxi and bicycle repair shop, plus the church, the Mairie and the school. Outside the house opposite a neighbour was cleaning her front windows; we stopped and introduced ourselves – she hadn't known the house was for sale, and N was pleased to think we had contributed some village gossip. We had attracted a few stares as we walked round, looking like well dressed Parisians, particularly going past the hairdresser, who looked up in amazement with hairdryer in hand, obviously having seen me with a haircut she had not done herself. Our new neighbour said that our house had been let go a little over the last few years, but before had been "une vraie perle", and we said we intended to improve it again. N was especially worried about the shutters on the street side, which the neighbour said had not been opened for three years, and that it was very depressing to look out every day at closed shutters. We had been told – and observed for ourselves – that very heavy lorries passed down the street frequently, but that a by-pass was planned to start very soon.
As we left we agreed that the neighbour, who was very pleasant, should be invited round at the earliest possible opportunity, only differing in that N thought she should be offered coffee à la française, and I thought tea would be more suitable from an English household. The rain grew more persistent, and N's optimistic morning journey calculations were rather upset as driving rain and more intense traffic jams as we got nearer to Paris meant that the trip home took four hours instead of two.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Another very long week and only time to catch up now.
Last Saturday – 24 September – we visited a property fair in Paris, and despite meeting many agents keen to sell (and in one instance to ply us with Norman specialities tarte aux pommes and Calvados) did not see any actual houses which interested us. We did however invest in the latest issue of our favourite house magazine, which we studied in minute detail on and off during Sunday, before and after eating an excellent poule au pot cooked by N.
We divided the properties which interested us into three distinct areas: Normandy, the Loire and Burgundy, drew up three separate lists and decided to make three separate trips, with a view to arriving at each agent in turn and asking to visit the house(s) in question.
The largest number of houses was in Normandy, so we set off the following morning in a westerly direction. Rule Number One – while house hunting in France, note that the majority of property agents are closed on Mondays. We stopped for lunch in Evreux, more to see what it was like than because there was a likely agence there, and after having found two or three in various villages closed, arrived at the one in the village of Conches-en-Ouche which was open on Monday afternoons. We asked to view the house we were interested in – a large three-storey house with white gables – and made an appointment for the following morning at 10.00 am, to see that and another one-storey Norman longère which the woman at the agence (called Sandrine) thought might suit us.
After a visit to a very interesting church and walk round the ruins of an eleventh century castle, there was no more we could do except find a hotel for the night – not easy as some of these also appeared to close on Mondays – so we stayed in Conches where the only restaurant open was a crèperie serving very good Norman cider but extremely salty crèpes.
The next morning we met the agent himself, and followed his car some 15 kms to the largish village where the house was. We were immediately impressed by the fact that it had a market place, several shops, church and school, and had already ascertained that it was on a bus route between two larger towns with stations. We fell in love with the house itself: late nineteenth century, beams, gables, a sun veranda, more rooms than we could afterwards remember on three floors, a beautiful entrance hall plus two staircases, French windows, lovely white painted doors and panelling and a big open fireplace. We had sometime previously drawn up a check-list of what we required in a house and this one ticked all the boxes. Outside a wall round the entire property enclosed four or five outbuildings, including two garages (accessible from the road behind) a wine cellar, an abandoned vegetable garden, and a recording studio! Our agent was very thorough, and would not rest until he was sure we had memorised everything. Opinions differed as to the amount of time it had been on the market, but we were told one other couple was interested, and were planning to bring an architect from Paris.
We then visited the next house, very different; a one-storey former farmhouse, very isolated, which I was anxious to see simply because it was typical of so many of the houses we had noted in the house magazines over the previous months. It was very dark, partly because of the small windows and partly because of the dark wood, and immaculately over-decorated. I didn't think it would suit my light pine furniture, and we felt that it confirmed our preference for the first house, which we were by then referring to as "The White House", even though N said he did not like the George Bush connection.
On to Bernay, where the agence was still closed, so we gave up and had lunch in another crèperie (less salt; still excellent cider) By this time it was raining again; we were beginning to get used to this, along with the views of timber-framed buildings, medieval churches, apple trees, white cows and pink hydrangeas. We stopped at the next agence at l'Aigle, where a helpful lady took us in her car to see another longère, just as isolated as the first, but with barns, a garage and many apple and pear trees, chickens, pigeons and rabbits. She showed us the outside of two others, insisting that they were not far from l'Aigle, and I tried to visualise myself cycling in and out – in vain as the road was very large and busy and uphill, and it was raining very hard. As before, the house was dark and would not have suited my furniture, and the White House seemed more and more the better choice.
We decided to call it a day, bought a copy of Logis de France, found what looked like an excellent hotel at Verneuil-sur-Avre and set off. It was an excellent hotel, in a very distinguished square with a pretty church, and we decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. The temperature seemed to have dropped even further, and having left Paris the day before with bare legs under my linen skirt, I had no choice but to go and buy a pair of tights. Dinner lived up to expectations, three beautifully prepared courses for 15 euros per person.
On Wednesday the sky was blue again and the square looked even better, and we set off for Longny, by now knowing that the first question to ask about potential houses was whether or not they were isolated. By this time, N, who had been much taken with Verneuil-sur-Avre, was maintaining that one of the main advantages of the White House was its proximity to Verneuil-sur-Avre; in addition to ease of getting to and from Paris, and the Channel coast.
The very business-like lady in the agency at Longny told us that the house we were interested in was attached to another house, in a hamlet with no shops, and with a right of way across the front, so we knew straight away there was no point in investigating further.
We decided to go back to Paris, but finding ourselves in the market place, decided to do some shopping first. I bought fruit and vegetables, and exchanged in some witty repartee with the lady at the cheese van, while purchasing some very fierce Brie.
On the way home we had our least memorable meal; lunch at an Autoroute café, and discussed making an offer for The White House. We were agreed on offering a figure some way below the asking price; I favoured an even lower figure than N, on the grounds that we would then have more flexibility and bargaining power. Once back at Saint-Denis we found the e-mail address of the agence in Conches (with some difficulty) and I made the offer, simply phrased, at the lower figure.
Last Saturday – 24 September – we visited a property fair in Paris, and despite meeting many agents keen to sell (and in one instance to ply us with Norman specialities tarte aux pommes and Calvados) did not see any actual houses which interested us. We did however invest in the latest issue of our favourite house magazine, which we studied in minute detail on and off during Sunday, before and after eating an excellent poule au pot cooked by N.
We divided the properties which interested us into three distinct areas: Normandy, the Loire and Burgundy, drew up three separate lists and decided to make three separate trips, with a view to arriving at each agent in turn and asking to visit the house(s) in question.
The largest number of houses was in Normandy, so we set off the following morning in a westerly direction. Rule Number One – while house hunting in France, note that the majority of property agents are closed on Mondays. We stopped for lunch in Evreux, more to see what it was like than because there was a likely agence there, and after having found two or three in various villages closed, arrived at the one in the village of Conches-en-Ouche which was open on Monday afternoons. We asked to view the house we were interested in – a large three-storey house with white gables – and made an appointment for the following morning at 10.00 am, to see that and another one-storey Norman longère which the woman at the agence (called Sandrine) thought might suit us.
After a visit to a very interesting church and walk round the ruins of an eleventh century castle, there was no more we could do except find a hotel for the night – not easy as some of these also appeared to close on Mondays – so we stayed in Conches where the only restaurant open was a crèperie serving very good Norman cider but extremely salty crèpes.
The next morning we met the agent himself, and followed his car some 15 kms to the largish village where the house was. We were immediately impressed by the fact that it had a market place, several shops, church and school, and had already ascertained that it was on a bus route between two larger towns with stations. We fell in love with the house itself: late nineteenth century, beams, gables, a sun veranda, more rooms than we could afterwards remember on three floors, a beautiful entrance hall plus two staircases, French windows, lovely white painted doors and panelling and a big open fireplace. We had sometime previously drawn up a check-list of what we required in a house and this one ticked all the boxes. Outside a wall round the entire property enclosed four or five outbuildings, including two garages (accessible from the road behind) a wine cellar, an abandoned vegetable garden, and a recording studio! Our agent was very thorough, and would not rest until he was sure we had memorised everything. Opinions differed as to the amount of time it had been on the market, but we were told one other couple was interested, and were planning to bring an architect from Paris.
We then visited the next house, very different; a one-storey former farmhouse, very isolated, which I was anxious to see simply because it was typical of so many of the houses we had noted in the house magazines over the previous months. It was very dark, partly because of the small windows and partly because of the dark wood, and immaculately over-decorated. I didn't think it would suit my light pine furniture, and we felt that it confirmed our preference for the first house, which we were by then referring to as "The White House", even though N said he did not like the George Bush connection.
On to Bernay, where the agence was still closed, so we gave up and had lunch in another crèperie (less salt; still excellent cider) By this time it was raining again; we were beginning to get used to this, along with the views of timber-framed buildings, medieval churches, apple trees, white cows and pink hydrangeas. We stopped at the next agence at l'Aigle, where a helpful lady took us in her car to see another longère, just as isolated as the first, but with barns, a garage and many apple and pear trees, chickens, pigeons and rabbits. She showed us the outside of two others, insisting that they were not far from l'Aigle, and I tried to visualise myself cycling in and out – in vain as the road was very large and busy and uphill, and it was raining very hard. As before, the house was dark and would not have suited my furniture, and the White House seemed more and more the better choice.
We decided to call it a day, bought a copy of Logis de France, found what looked like an excellent hotel at Verneuil-sur-Avre and set off. It was an excellent hotel, in a very distinguished square with a pretty church, and we decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. The temperature seemed to have dropped even further, and having left Paris the day before with bare legs under my linen skirt, I had no choice but to go and buy a pair of tights. Dinner lived up to expectations, three beautifully prepared courses for 15 euros per person.
On Wednesday the sky was blue again and the square looked even better, and we set off for Longny, by now knowing that the first question to ask about potential houses was whether or not they were isolated. By this time, N, who had been much taken with Verneuil-sur-Avre, was maintaining that one of the main advantages of the White House was its proximity to Verneuil-sur-Avre; in addition to ease of getting to and from Paris, and the Channel coast.
The very business-like lady in the agency at Longny told us that the house we were interested in was attached to another house, in a hamlet with no shops, and with a right of way across the front, so we knew straight away there was no point in investigating further.
We decided to go back to Paris, but finding ourselves in the market place, decided to do some shopping first. I bought fruit and vegetables, and exchanged in some witty repartee with the lady at the cheese van, while purchasing some very fierce Brie.
On the way home we had our least memorable meal; lunch at an Autoroute café, and discussed making an offer for The White House. We were agreed on offering a figure some way below the asking price; I favoured an even lower figure than N, on the grounds that we would then have more flexibility and bargaining power. Once back at Saint-Denis we found the e-mail address of the agence in Conches (with some difficulty) and I made the offer, simply phrased, at the lower figure.
