Saying Au Revoir #11
The Unadventurous Traveller
As you must know by now, my husband Dale is only really happy with a camera in his hand or when he is rebuilding, improving or perfecting something around the place. (I'm sure that there are other things he loves too but this seems to be his real forte!). There were many other projects around the place that needed his attention. Since, the house and outbuildings were so numerous, in time he made renovations to all of them as the house had not needed any real structural work. After the construction of the gite, it was time for him to focus on some of the other buildings and their roofs in particular, which needed attention. I should add here that Dale spent 30 years in construction in the UK as an Industrial roofer, so he was not afraid of heights or of hard work, but has had to teach himself many new skills for these jobs.
There was a quaint little building attached to the house, totally separate from it with no access from inside the house. This building, we discovered from the large bucket of keys, was called the piggery - only deciphered because some of the keys to the big doors had scribbled handwritten tags on them. The piggery had one room on the ground floor which became my gardening shed or potting shed as Dale always referred to it. It had one window and we always kept the door open as it was very dark inside otherwise. There were nails in the walls to hang up such things as shears and rakes. I had a large ball of string in there too, always useful for tying tomatoes to sticks etc. A lovely wren made her nest in this ball of string, and wouldn't be too worried with my visits into the shed, so long as I kept my distance.
The piggery had a first floor too, which I found totally ridiculous. What was the point of it? How did they get any pigs up there? And why? I can only imagine they used the first floor for storage but now the roof was caving in, allowing rain and all the elements to rot the floorboards, and it had totally collapsed. So Dale needed to re-roof this building. He knew how to do it, and upon closer inspection found that it needed new lathes and wood throughout. Dale has his own aluminium tower and ladders, and I helped him a little with the re-roofing of this small building. It actually took him quite a few days to measure, cut and attach all the new beams in place before he was able to re-tile the roof. He really hurt his back with all the twisting and turning in the confined space. Of all the projects he has undertaken, it was a small job like this that really set his back off.
The roof of the barn nearest to our house was in very good shape and the house itself had a relatively new roof, having been replaced or improved within the last 100 years. The gite had had to have alterations and improvements to it whilst Dale worked on it, too.
The Woodshed
The woodshed was the last building attached to the right side of the barn nearest to our house. It was quite large (dimensions) and had a section on the left hand side just at the entrance of bricked smaller boxes. We were never quite sure what these were for, but they would be ideal chicken coops, perhaps. We had seen that many of the farmers still keep giant rabbits for eating purposes, so it could have been a rabbit hutch/cage. We used to keep smaller, off-shaped pieces in these funny boxes, and whilst Brooke and Dalton were little it was an ideal place for them to stack wood when they wanted to help.
Wood - The Very Essence of Life
As I've mentioned before, wood became essential to our survival in central France. Saying this now feels a little ridiculous, but at the time, it was the very basis of our heating in a very large, draughty, cold stone manor house. During the winter, which could last sometimes for up to five months of the year, we needed wood to make living in the large, cold house bearable. Once Dale had chopped a tree down and used the chainsaw to divide it into smaller lengths, each stump then needed splitting into manageable widths that would fit into the woodburner. These then needed stacking in a place where they would not be in the way for an extended period of time, but could also air dry and ‘season’ adequately for use. When we had a woodburner in the UK we knew that wood would take two years to be properly seasoned, but in France, with the additional heat of the summer sun and the different climate altogether, the wood only needed a year to become seasoned, after which it could be moved to the woodshed for storage, to ensure it stayed dry and close enough to the house for easy access.
The building was structurally sound, but ivy was growing across the roof and over the back of the barn. Whilst beautiful to look at, this is not structurally a good idea for any building, so Dale embarked on its removal. It had been growing for so long and the plant had become so ingrained within the stonework and mortar that it needed to be cut out - he had to chisel out the mortar in places and replace it after pulling off the wood-like lengths of Ivy.
Whilst up on the roof with the tower, he used the opportunity for some bird photography, always making the most of his time!
The hens and Coq, as I mentioned in the last blog, had quite a palace that they could call home. Their whole building had at one point been double the size, like a small house made out of the same basic material as our house minus the crepie on the outside. It really was a lovely, ramshackle little building. As you looked at the chicken house, which faced the kitchen door of our house, there was a large single room made of stone that had wooden structures inside as if it had been a stable in the past. It had a nice wooden door and a window, with a shutter for it on the inside. To access the rooms above there were some tumbledown steps to the right which were now very unstable and not safe for anyone to walk up, and certainly not small children! Some large marble slabs were lying around that must have formed the start of these steps, semi-buried in the ground. To the right of this room would have been the other side of the house but this had tumbled down years ago - who knows when? So there now stood a big mound of rubble, long since overgrown with earth, dumped rubbish and several hazel trees.
The roof on this building also needed looking at, so in time this also got its roof renewed. Dale added some zinc down the ridges as that's what had been there originally. There should have been a finial on the top of this buildings’ roof, but this had long since been lost/stolen or destroyed in all the years of neglect and weather damage.
Change in Plans
Another outbuilding that needed an overhaul was the old outside toilet. This was located in the garden directly in front of the kitchen window at the back of the house. We did have plans at the very beginning of our journey to fit French doors in this room, with steps down into the garden, but these plans soon disappeared. In the passing of time it emerged that the kitchen was the room we used a lot and the place where we had the window eventually had the washing machine installed in front of it. The kitchen was large but already had four doors in it, so to add another to this myriad of doors would be crazy!
The main door was what we termed the back door despite being at the front of the house. It was used by strangers arriving at the house as the front door, but as it was tucked away at the furthest end of the house it was hardly convenient. There was another door to enter the lounge and the rest of the house. Clockwise in the kitchen were then the countertops, followed by the window looking out to the back garden or the ‘swimming pool garden’ as I called it, as this garden was just crying out to have a swimming pool in it. Then there was the fridge and tucked behind that was the door to the indoor cellar. We kept this shut most of the time unless there was some dire need to visit the cellar (I can only think we’d go down there for turning the water mains off or checking the water meter perhaps.) Once we had cleared the cellar of all the huge amount of rubbish that had been left behind, as detailed in a past blog, we only really showed visitors the cellar as part of the grand tour. Then there was the bread oven and fireplace, with our oven placed within it, and a cupboard and worktop next to it. The final door was the door to the utility room, which was to the side of the kitchen and accommodated the bread oven. It was situated entirely above the cellar and was extremely useful. We had planned to put all the utility items in there, such as the washing machine and dishwasher, but the difficulty it would take to get the water supply to it, plus the drainage away, when all of this was already available in the kitchen, so they stayed in the kitchen, which was large enough to accommodate them.
The Swimming Pool Garden
My dream would have been to make breakfast in the kitchen, then walk through the French doors down to the beautiful cottage garden to eat breakfast on the table and chairs. Or better still, sit there to eat whilst watching the children larking around in the swimming pool just there. This garden was very private, hidden from anyone else, with beautiful stone walls around three edges, all covered in growing moss and flowers. It was also a complete suntrap, where we spent many a day sunbathing, playing trampoline, or playing ‘find the rabbit’ in here. The garden was the perfect size for a pool, and as it was walled it would not have taken much to add another gate at the end of the garden that led through to the rest of the back garden. The wall back to the house had a lovely metal gate built into it which meant the security for a swimming pool would have been perfect. The regulations kept changing in France in terms of pool safety, but it seemed to me that you either needed an electronic security alarm system in case people fell into the pool, or a robust gate around to protect minors etc.
His ‘n’ Hers Lavvy
The outside toilet just at the corner of this garden was quite large and would have made a perfect pump room for the swimming pool pump and possibly also changing and shower room too. It had a ledge running along the length of the building with two holes in the wood, allowing for his and hers twin toileting, with a drop down to a deep pit below. How intimate!
Dale worked to re-roof this building, which was structurally very sound. It had an extra section which would have been great as a shower area, and plenty of space for the pump and all bits needed for the pool. Some birds were nesting in here and flew in and out regularly so we could never shut the door on the large garden side, but we always kept the door shut on the swimming pool garden side - mainly to stop Rabbit thinking of another place to hide!
We had only two issues with the idea of us getting a swimming pool:
1. If we had a pool and we kept having gite customers, would we have to share our family pool with total strangers? This would probably have meant we could have charged more for the weekly rental fee, and in the height of the French Creuse summers was probably quite imperative, but the thought of random strangers entering our private garden area and using our pool put me off completely. Would we have to leave if guests came along or watch them cavort in our pool outside our kitchen window whilst we couldn't even go in it? That would be even worse!
2. Paying for the pool. A pool sounded great, but it would be costly, and the upkeep would be quite high too, so we were led to believe. Furthermore, we weren't entirely certain that a pool would add value to the house; we had understood from our friends in the UK that a pool could sometimes detract from the value of a house precisely for the upkeep reasons.
We never did get an in-ground or even above-ground pool. The kids settled for a large rubber pool for a few years, which they did love and which worked a treat for cooling hot kids (and parents too) in the height of the hot French summers. If we moved to Spain we would get a proper pool then, wouldn't we?
Pergola
We had some lovely meals with friends and visiting family, under the pergola enjoying the French countryside, with views of rolling hills and occasional visits from wildlife.
Deciding Factors
The house was never going to be finished. There would always be something else that needed updating, replacing or improving. However, external factors were developing along with our own change in thoughts. We decided to go for it. We would put the house up for sale and see what happened. We could always take it off the market if for some reason we had a huge change of heart. But we could not get over these factors that affected us so much:
The very long, very cold winters,
The need for wood which meant a physical requirement for Dale every year to fell the wood, cut it and prepare it for usage, or increased costs each year to buy it in.
We had a house of which we occupied only two-thirds. We closed the doors to rooms we didn't use, of course, but the house was big, largely uninsulated and the cold would creep up through the floors and through the stone walls. Heating it was an ongoing battle!
The children were pretty fluent in French and both ensconced nicely in school. But what job prospects were there for them post education? I know this is a long term consideration but still an essential one. I had worked most of my life in recruitment and so this is a fundamental consideration of mine for them. Dalton was fast going off the idea of being a farmer (he was beginning to enter the laziness of teenage-hood and he could see how hard the farmer actually worked). We didn't have any land that he could farm like his friends, who would inherit from their families. All the young adults that we had heard of had had to move away to larger towns or cities for decent employment prospects. Unless you were a farmer or a nurse, employment looked pretty grim in La Creuse. It was still early days for Brooke of course, but I didn’t want their employment prospects thwarted before they had even got there.
And finally with Brexit coming and all the uncertainty that that was bringing it was making us formulate a plan for the future. If we wanted to stay in Europe, which we did, then did we want to stay in France? Now was the time, before Brexit was implemented, to move to another country if we wished. We certainly did want somewhere warmer, but Dale wanted a project. Could he find anywhere further south?
Could we even sell the house in time before Brexit took away our rights to roam as we knew it then?
Getting the House Valued
We thought we had better get cracking with selling the house, but we had no idea how much to even advertise it for. So we invited a couple of estate agents round to provide a valuation. We had two in the end who were local and so should have a good understanding as to the pricing in our area. Both came up with valuations that were quite different, so we plumped for a figure somewhere in between. One estate agent was very negative in her appraisal of the house. Similar to a person kicking your tyres and verbally tearing the car apart in trying to knock down the price, she was doing this about the house. It was old, many people may not want that (and there's many that might), it needed entirely new wiring throughout (I don't know what made her think that, as Dale had rewired certain rooms that needed it, but we had renewed everything that needed it - so factually incorrect). She carried on with her negative appraisal which put my back right up. I didn’t want someone to be falsely praising the house saying how wonderful it was, but really just let us know fair and square how much we should charge for it and certainly not ‘play’ us.
Her tactic of ‘putting the house down’ to lower our price expectation was clearly a ploy to make their rather large fee more palatable. Once their large fee was placed on the top of the asking price, this could then increase the sale price by between eight to fifteen thousand euros, which would affect any purchaser tremendously. Their aggressive sales attitude and either veiled flattery or disillusionment about certain aspects of the house reminded me that I had worked in sales for many many years and had come across some really bad examples of sales people (and some really lovely, great sales people too!)
I knew I could do a much better job of selling the house as I could accurately explain the good and the bad points to potential buyers and play to people's needs and desires. There is no one that knows your own house better than you! There was no reason why we couldn't market the house ourselves, as Dale could take the best photos of it to market it effectively, and I had an office and access to the telephone and email to be able to coordinate calls and provide guided tours of the house when required as we knew the house better than any agent. Also we were more driven to sell the house than someone who had a whole repertoire of houses on their books. I could negotiate over price, if we ever got a buyer, so this is what we decided to do. We just had to find the right channels to market it through.
Online advertising
We found a company online who, for a small fee, would help you with your listing and then list it for you on all the top house-selling sites online. They also gave advice on wording, advised on the best pictures to use and more. They would list the house on five - six of the top online house selling portals, but for less than the fee of one of these agents. And their fee was a much lower price to pay compared to the price of the house, so weighing up the options we decided to try French Properties Direct.
We also listed the property on Le Boncoin, as this is where a lot of French people would look, which meant getting a sales spiel ready to sell the house effectively and then translating into French. I did receive phone calls from a man who was vaguely interested in the house, but more about its history, offering to re-word my advert for me. I could not be offended as he was genuinely trying to help! We also marketed it on Facebook as you just never know who is looking at the various pages.
We had a flurry of interested parties at the start, and over the first few weeks were arranging visits for potential buyers every weekend, with French and English couples. It was quite embarrassing when showing French couples around the house, at my lack of basic vocabulary for certain things. After five+ years living in France I had acquired a certain repertoire of words, but words for selling the house were not included. I had to improve and learn these words quickly.
Different Nationalities’ Feedback
Everybody had a different background and story as to why they would like a house of this size and what they might do with it, which was all very interesting and we met some very nice people. What was noticeable between the differing nationalities was the feedback. I always asked viewers for some feedback after giving them some time to think about the place as well as showing interest in where else they were going to be viewing. I asked for this within a short time frame, just as soon as they could. I would follow this up by email where possible, not that I want to hound people but so we would know whether or not they were really interested.
When showing English people round, they were usually very positive, friendly and interested in most aspects you would show them. Yes, they would come back to me as soon as they could with some feedback and keep me informed. They rarely did. Even when I emailed them a week or two later, I rarely heard back from them, but we always had a vague hope when we hadn't categorically been told No.
However the French viewers were totally different. They would be pleasant of course but ‘play their cards close to their chests’ whilst walking round the house, making it difficult to judge whether they were liking it or not. However, at the end of the guided tour they all expressed their honest opinions. Most, of course were negative, but for different reasons, and whilst this could have been awkward, they felt that we should know there and then and so told us. This eliminated the days and weeks of waiting, wondering and hoping, and just told us straight away, which was not a bad thing at all.
This is not a criticism particularly either way, I found the French direct, matter of fact feedback somewhat abrasive to start with, but actually preferred being told to remove any doubt. I often take my time to make my mind up, sometimes weighing up the options and comparing things against others, so I would probably still react as the English tended to, but it's just interesting to note the cultural differences to this process.
Diagnostic survey
We were informed that we would need a new diagnostic survey, despite only having bought the house within the last five years, I thought that we would be able to use that survey. But of course the diagnostic survey from our house purchase was older than five years so this was another money making ‘catch’, but absolutely essential if you want to sell a house in France. It provides a great insight to all potential buyers and the Notaire will expect it as part of the sale documents.
We also had to get a separate diagnostic survey for the Gite as it was a separate building and of course as it had not existed previously this was absolutely essential. I felt that timing was critical for the attainment of this survey, which was only valid for a certain period of time and for which a fee was payable. It covered many different things such as: termites (we didn’t have any in our area) or flood risk, lead in any paint, electrics, plumbing, the fosse septique (septic tank), the thermal rating of your property and more. The length of time that the survey lasted differed as to which part of the diagnostic survey you referred; the electrics section, for example, was valid for a different duration than the thermal rating. So we agreed that we would apply for this survey once we had a firm offer on the house, otherwise the interested parties could waver and change their minds at any time, then we would have invested hundreds of euros into something that lasted for a maximum of one year!
Reality Settled In
Three or four months passed, and the depression of trying to sell a house with no obvious buyers seeming to want to buy it settled on us. Maybe it was true what they said, that it takes on average three years to sell a house in this area. If that were the case we had better get used to the idea of staying. I am no quitter, despite having times of self-doubt. You really have to give yourself a good shake and give yourself a good talking to. What can we do to change this situation? How would I tackle this if it was work and none of the sales plans I had implemented worked? I would try a different tack and persevere. So that's what we did. We took some different photos and refreshed the adverts, which I re-worded and concentrated on different angles. Perhaps people wanted to hear more about the business aspect (the gite)? I kept on posting regularly online, as ads drop to the bottom and you need yours to be seen at the top.
But we also reduced the price by fifteen thousand euros. Perhaps this was a sticking point for people? We heavily pushed the fact that we were selling independently so saving potential buyers the substantial finders fee of an Immoblier / Estate Agent too.
Divine Intervention
I am quite a spiritual person and always say little prayers whenever things aren't going well or whenever I need some assistance from on high. Whether you believe in this or not, and I would never force you to if you do not, it is something that I believe in and ‘He’ always delivers in some way or another. I had been regularly asking for help to find us a buyer, and if in fact we were doing the right thing? I am naturally quite reluctant to change, I don't like it, and this would be a huge change for us all. Were we doing the right thing? Leaving our stable lives behind and moving to a new country? Finding a wreck of a building and embarking on a huge challenge? Taking our children from their stable lives to learn a new language - was any of this right? ‘Lord, please show me a sign, so I will know this is the right path for us to take.’ I kept asking.
I don't know for sure if this was a sign from above, but there's no clearer sign as far as I am concerned. I think of the next turn of events as divine intervention. It all started like this….
Concert
We usually don't ever ‘do’ much during the week, as the kids attended school, I had work, we usually saved different activities for the weekend. However one evening we were getting ready to go out as Dalton was singing in a concert to commemorate World War II. He had been learning various old French songs, some of which my Dad remembered as a young boy. The concert had already taken place in Gueret, the biggest town near to us, and this was the local edition for all of those locals who had not made it, and for the parents.
So we were all taking a bath and generally sprucing up ready for this quite early concert, when there was an unexpected knock at the door.
Did you ever hear the one about Two Nuns and a Priest…...
I looked out of the upstairs window, which overlooked the front door, to see some nuns and a priest. I ran down to answer the door, thinking somehow that maybe these were Jehovah's Witnesses, despite the fact I know full well that Jehovahs don't wear anything like the outfits that nuns or priests wear and the Jehovahs who had come to the door previously had spoken to me in English, which had totally confused me! How had they known I was English and why were they trying to convert me to their church in the middle of the French countryside? Most odd. Anyway, I ran to the door first because Dale doesn’t have much patience with Jehovah's Witnesses, whereas I really don’t mind their visits, as long as they are quick.
The two nuns who were knocking were dressed in grey habits with white edging, with a brown string type belt and overall looked very plain. Their shoes were shabby sandals worn with nice thick socks. I notice all these things about people, but this is no surprise as nuns really do not believe in having anything for themselves, just enough to be sufficient and the rest they dedicate to God. The priest was a very tall man, quite imposing in stature, dressed all in black, with his white dog collar, and a black jacket. They were quite an impressive team standing on our doorstep talking away to me in French. I had to switch my brain into French and tuned in to hear them asking if this was the house that was for sale? Was it still for sale? And sorry for the unexpected arrival, but could they have a look around?
Unexpected was right! So, a little flummoxed, I explained that usually this would of course be fine, but tonight of all nights we had to go out to attend a concert and explained about Dalton's evening activity singing old wartime songs in French. However as Dale was already washed and dressed, he was happy to show them around the gardens and barns to start them off. This was great! They agreed to a guided tour of the outbuildings and land now, and arranged to return back tomorrow for the house tour.
After all this time trying to sell the house, I sincerely hoped we had not put them off by saying we could not do their viewing there and then, and hoped and prayed that these would be our buyers.
Wartime Memories
The concert was fabulous! They all sang with gusto, and although we didn’t know any of the songs as they were all wartime French songs, it was really lovely to see young and old singing along and remembering those times under occupation. A very different history to our English memories of World War II. I told my father afterwards all about it. He remembered having to salute to heil Hitler at boarding school when the Nazis walked past, whilst under occupation and hating it. He remembered many of the songs too.
That evening after the concert, as anyone selling a house will know, I tidied up again to ensure the inside of the house looked as good as it could, so that all mess and toys were safely back in their respective homes and polished the place until it looked as good as it could.
The Second Visit
The nuns arrived again. I got to meet them properly this time and we could discuss what they wanted and why they had chosen our house. As we had advertised the house in different places, I also liked to gain some feedback to see which advertising had worked the most effectively. They had seen our house on the Greenacres site but had been in a rush to attend a viewing so had not managed to give us a call. They were visiting this area from their home on the Swiss / French border where they lived in a convent. Life was very cold there, they grew vegetables and had bees for honey and were effectively almost self-sufficient for food.
Their plan, as they eventually told us, was to buy a place in which they could create a stop off for travelling pilgrims, and as we had the gite as part of the property this would be very suitable. . They were also planning, we think, on converting one of the buildings into a chapel, and kept discussing and asking us which way the buildings faced and which properties, if any, were facing north or south.
Anyway on this first official visit, there were two nuns and another chap who looked like their driver or groundsman. The tall and imposing priest was unable to attend that day. He happened to be the high-ranking priest from the principal Roman Catholic Church in Limoges, so he had some authority. The nuns were so pleasant and looked around every room as one made notes and the other one just looked. They loved the snug and had visions to use it as a library. As we showed them around the different bedrooms it came to light there would be three nuns living in this vast house. They loved the big kitchen and we agreed that we would leave the washing machine for them (along with the English instructions!) and all the woodburners. As they normally lived in snowy, very cold temperatures, I imagine they thought this would feel tropical in comparison!
The nuns, of course being very spiritual, told us that they really felt very good about this house. They told us that they had been driving down the road at the end of our hamlet and had seen the stone cross, which had led them to the house. They knew this was right as they had seen it on Greenacres but had not made a note of our phone number. All the signs were pointing them in this direction.
I knew there couldn’t be a clearer sign that anyone could have sent me to show that this was the right path to choose!
The nuns returned with the priest another time and we showed them around again. They had had to make the long journey of some four hours, so we knew that they were very interested to come for a second viewing. It was whilst Dale was showing the party the very front of the house, the area where we had kept chickens and the side of the house with the beautiful grapevines growing against the house, the priest came close up to Dale’s ear and said in English ‘It’s time to talk money’. Dale had no idea the priest could speak English as all conversation had so far been in French so this made him jump! I am pretty certain I had heard the priest say something to me once in English but this took Dale off guard a little!
We discussed price and they asked us what we were prepared to negotiate to, but as we had just dropped the price in the last two weeks by 15k or so, I was not prepared to drop any lower. So I reminded them that buying through us, independently, was saving them at least 10k and probably more and discussed the gaining of the diagnostic survey for them if they were offering something definite. We were happy to leave any of the electrical items they felt they wanted or needed, which actually just meant the washing machine and all of the woodburners, plus all the items in the gite as it was - ready for use.
We shook hands and we knew this was as firm an offer as it was going to get! We had sold the house to a religious order and this meant we were going to be free to go ahead and buy an old chapel and hermitage in Catalonia. Religion hasn’t meant to keep cropping up in our lives, as Dale is as atheist as can be, so it is certainly not by his doing. But someone has guided us through this course of action and we were excited to be moving on to the next chapter! We were moving to Spain.
If you would like to read more about our travels, adventures and happenings then you could join the Facebook page for updates: The Unadventurous Traveller or see our page on Instagram which shows work as it’s happening to the Chapel.Renovation and follow this blog.
All photographs in this blog are subject to copyright and owned by Dale Sutton.
Please share this with your friends so more people can read it, thank you. See you next time!
Catherine
You can catch up on some of the previous blogs here:
#6 Finding Friends and Hidden Treasure
#5 Manoir Makeover - more doing it up - Part 2
#4 Signing and Doing it up - Part 1
#3 France - a new life, a new home
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