Everything’s gonna be all right

These last few weeks, months actually, have been very fraught, very fraught indeed, what with dealing with the sale of my house and the work getting it ready to hand over to the new owners, dealing with the purchase of the land at Labattut in Fleurac on which I’ll be building my new house, making my own design for the latter, obtaining a ‘permis de construire’ for it, finding a contractor to build it, ordering the services (electricity and water) for the site, obtaining and preparing a caravan to live in on the land pending the construction of my new house after my old house had been sold, finding somewhere to store the furniture and other items that I want to take with me to the new house and doing the move itself.

I’ve mentioned previously and I’ll do so again, my French neighbour Chantal, was wonderful in the run up to the latter and during the move itself, helping me to fill boxes, load them onto the van I hired for the move and get them off again at the other end and also cleaning right through the house before the door was locked so the new owners could walk in and immediately start using it. She was an absolute treasure and we both ended up at the end of every day leading up to the move itself totally dog-tired and ready for a cold beer or two. I could never thank her enough for her help and support over so many days.

The crunch day (final signing off of the sale agreement) was Wednesday 30 June and as the date approached I thought that I’d make it in time, albeit just by a whisker, after hiring a van for just the two days prior. It rained on both of those days as it always has on every house move that I’ve ever done in the past, but luckily we were not too inconvenienced as we were able to dodge the showers and the biggest problem was just the mud underfoot (I had to hose the van down and mop out the cab floor before returning it on the Wednesday morning). Here’s a shot that I took of the first part of the first load being loaded onto the van before being driven off to the storage location.

As the move progressed, however, it soon became abundantly clear that I’d never be complete and cleared out of the house by the 3.00 pm deadline when the house would be signed over in the notaire’s office in Montignac. I therefore asked the buyer if I could hang on to a key until the next day knowing that he would agree, and indeed he did.

That meant that I could concentrate on moving out and leave relocating the caravan from my garden to Fleurac until the following day, by which time I thought that I would surely be cleared out. But even that was not to be and I did my final run to the ‘déchetterie’ with my final trailer-load of rubbish on Friday (by which time I didn’t need access to the house itself) before loading some paving stones and my hosepipe that I would be taking with me from the garden at midday.

Here are some shots that I took of my caravan on my land in Fleurac on July 1, the day after signing off the sale of my house.

By then I actually hadn’t stayed overnight in my house for well over a week, ever since I’d completed the work on replacing the windows in the bedrooms. I’d been sleeping in the caravan on my front garden and had survived the odd thunderstorm waking up every day to damp, misty mornings which, admittedly, usually then developed into bright sunny days.

However, the morning after my first night in the caravan at Labattut was a different experience entirely. I woke up early and this was the sight that greeted me when I opened the caravan door as the rosy glow of the sun began to peep above the horizon just after dawn.

Before I left for the last time on the Friday, I turned round to take one last look at my old house and took two final photographs. I’d spent nine good years there and afterwards I sent a message to the new buyers saying that if they are half as happy there as I had been then their time there will be very happy indeed.

But now it’s time to move on, albeit with one tiny tinge of regret. I leave behind Toddie, my old dog, resting in the corner of the back garden. Ever since he passed on, in a way we were still together. But Chantal said that it was his spirit that was important and that leaving behind what are only his mortal remains is of little true importance. I’m sure she’s right because she is in much closer touch with such things than I am, but I truly do still feel the wrench as he and I were so close, coming to France alone as we did, together just the two of us.

But the other side of the coin is that already great things are starting to happen even though I’m sitting typing this in a caravan with no mains water (I have a 20 litre container that Madeleine kindly loaned me) or electricity (see my Enedis woes in my previous post – I’m currently running a small generator for power and lighting) and boxes stacked all around me that I will soon have to start clearing.

Right up to this moment I’d had no guarantee that my house design (my own) was buildable or even that I’d be able to find a contractor prepared to build it, let alone at a price that I could afford. But that all ended on Saturday afternoon when I met a brilliant local housebuilder who over the course of 1 1/2 hours set out his detailed proposal for the construction of my new house exactly according to my plans and every dot and comma of the ‘permis de construire’ that I have been granted.

As his presentation continued not only was I totally impressed and absorbed by the quality of his work and the detail into which he’d gone (even down to the type and style of doorbell that will be provided) but I also became more and more convinced that I would ultimately be disappointed when he came to the final cost which I thought would be way above my budget.

Previously when preparing my design and plans I’d done a considerable amount of research on what a house of such a style and size would cost to build, but on the other hand, he’d included so many quality details and features that surely it would end up costing so much more than the ‘pro-rata’ figure that I’d come up with and which formed the basis of my budget? But no, this was not so! The final figure that he came up with was exactly dead on my budgetary median, and that can mean only one thing.

My project will go ahead, come what may. Up to that moment I’d taken a huge leap in the dark and there was always a danger that I could take a tumble as a result. But in one stroke that danger was removed! So all the time, pain and effort of the past few months will be worth it – and even the discomfort of living in an old caravan for a few months will eventually deliver the ultimate reward of a gorgeous new home in a fabulous location and what could be better than that 🙂