What Am I Doing Here

In a previous post we'd arrived in the foothills of the Pyrenees to start house hunting in earnest, there wasn't much in our price range as we were looking for a renovation project but also adequate living accommodation. We fell between the price of derelict properties (of which there were many) and new or renovated property,perhaps a partial renovation or a place renovated in the 50s or 60s (of which there weren't many!) We had previously renovated a week-end cottage and my late wife refused "to go to bed by ladder for months on end!" I conceed that although an enthusiastic DIYer I do tend to start other projects before the current one is fully completed.

In France estate agents always drive potential clients to view the properties, this seems at first sight to be a polite and usefull service, the reality of course is that they want to prevent purchaser and vendor from getting together to do a private deal and depriving them of their commission!

Our first agent had a sign in the window "Enlish Spoken" their spelling not mine! A far cry from today when every agent has access to an English speaker and in this case even futher as "English Spoken" was the estate agents wife. She was in hospital, literally with her knees in the stirrups, about to give birth. As soon as he realised we weren't interested in his top price book, he shot off to do the modern mans thing and left us in the hands of the fat lady. The fat lady in the Fiat Panda, most of it! There seemed little room left for us!

At this point we made a near fatal mistake! Thinking it good sense, I sat in the front on the basis that my "O" level French (circa 1956) would afford some small degree of communication. I forgot that french people need to look you in the eye to talk to you and that women are likely to address other women on the subject of kitchens and similar facilities! So there we were crammed into a tiny car hurtling along country lanes with the fat lady turning round to talk to the wife in the back seat about the delux kitchen features in the next property!

We survived the experience, lesson learnt but didn't find a suitable place. We were passed down the line to the next estate agent where we met Yolande d'Artagnon. No relation to the great musketeer but her family came from the same village as HIS mum. The "d" or "de" means from and I have visited Artagnon and seen the plaque on the wall !

Meeting Yolande was a stroke of luck, although she spoke no English she had the unusual ability to shout slowly, this being the method by which I had been taught my "O" level french (circa 1956), communication was established!