The Journey home

Saturday morning arrived, as they usually do at the end of a holiday, and all we had to do was pack and leave the Gite clean and in good order, but our minds were buzzing with the discoveries we had made and the decision we were about to make. We said farewell to our hosts, having first been invited to view some of their daughter's paintings and prints. They were impressive and we were to discover more of her work in later years.
The journey back to the French coast was fairly uneventful, but with a slightly different route, this time back to St Malo, it was enjoyable. The difference being the thoughts we had about the possibility of actually buying a little piece of France, something we had never seriously contemplated.
Was it all a dream? Could it really be possible? Were we really serious about this, and of equal minds. Were we just plain "bonkers" to even think of such a thing, and if so, should we spend some more time searching for the right property, in the right location, with a more conventional profile. So many questions, so many doubts, so many possibilities, so very exciting.
Our arrival back in Portsmouth saw us busily pursuing the many agents we discovered who were seling properties in France and we began putting together a formidable portfolio of prospective houses.
There was just one problem. I was working full time and the opportunity to hop back and fore to France to view properties did not seem even a remote possibility at the time. One only did that once a year for the annual vacation, and it was a significant operation requiring planning, routes, insurance and all the other little jobs that make going on holiday such hard work, but loaded with eager anticipation. Which left us with the inevitable choice of either putting in an offer for what we had seen, or shelving the whole idea until some time in the future.
The choice was obvious, make an offer and have an open mind as to what to do if this was rejected, and so the process began.

Still more rooms to discover

Turning left at the top of the street around the corner of the house we climbed up 3 typically French concrete steps and entered the "school room". Why this extraordinary name you may ask. There was little evidence to suggest it had ever been used in this way apart from a faded paper list pinned to the back of the door, and one or two other remnants of paper which may well have been left by children at some time, although there was little evidence throughout the building that children had ever played there. This room is sandwiched between the garden room below and the straw bedroom above in a section which seems to link two halves of the house and is still the "school room", but the other notable feature here are the two enormous beams which support what is thought to be a typical Louis XIV ceiling with grooved rafters.

The final door took a little while to open mainly because the lock had clearly been installed the wrong way round and Francoise had difficulty until she realised it was necessary to turn the key as if to lock the door to open it!! This led into what might loosely be described as the garage. In one corner was an even larger "cuve" or "barrique" which this time really did look the business, because alongside it was a wine press with all the necessary bits and pieces, all of which looked as if they had been used until quite recently.
In addition there was the usual assortment of rubbish and a wooden staircase leading to a similar sized room above which became the "studio". Both these rooms had a network of wire fastened to the ceiling, which we were told had been used to dry tobacco, another important product grown in the region. The stairs, which we mounted with caution, were covered with old and very dusty straw, which made it almost impossible to see the treads, and there was a great deal more in the room above.

At the rear of the garage was a wide opening leading into the "cart room". Another large room filled with the remains of a cart, two sets of very large cart wheels and an assortment of agricultural machinery, rakes, ploughs and all the usual gear found the the average down beat French barn, together with a pile of logs for the fire, old barrels and a huge assortment of hoops, bicycle frames and wheels, and yet more rubbish, and would you believe it, another room above this which was literally piled up with straw, the only place in the building where it almost seemed logical to use it for that purpose! The roof and floors in this part of the building were decidedly suspect and in need of repair. There was one more part of the building which was of the same order as this and was the "cellar" beneath the cart room.
Apart from exploring the pig sty, which was on two floors, presumably with chickens on the first floor, judging by the netting wire closures at the front and the internal perches, we had completed our "viewing" and were left with some pretty serious thinking to occupy our minds on the return journey.
Who in their right minds would have even given it a second thought? If first impressions were anything to go by, then the visit we had made on the previous evening should have been sufficient to warn us off. What we had seen during the afternoon merely confirmed these first impressions ; and yet, perhaps there was a huge potential here for some adventure, an experimental playground, a challenge, an opportunity to purchase a little bit of France for silly money and really embark on a project which would last a lifetime.
That, I feel, is exactly what happened.

Curiouser, and curiouser.

Perhaps one of the reasons why we became bewitched by this house, was the extraordinary way we had to enter various sections of it from the street. We were able to enter another part of the building lower down the street, by a double barn door, which looked as if it had been a stable, or that animals had been kept in there, tethered to the walls. There was still evidence of chains and rings and things, but these had long since ceased to be used, and the livestock had been replaced by an army of ill assorted spiders, with enough webs to weave a doormat, and no doubt a sprinkling of mice. Above the collapsing wooden ceiling/floor of this part of the house, was the huge space I mentioned, open to the roof, two stories above. There was a huge "lintel" or "threshold" above a blocked up opening, which looked as if at one time it had connected to the kitchen.
Back to the street, and in via another double barn door into a cavernous space and our first sight of one of the large fireplaces mentioned by Francoise. The room was also filled with an extraordinary amount of rubbish, a "cuve" (huge wine vat), used in the initial fermentation of wine, numerous old barrels, bicycle frames and discarded wheels, logs and firewood, all on a sloping, seemingly dirt floor, although the fireplace would indicate that it had been a room of some significance at one time.
In one corner was a home made rustic ladder leading to a floor above, which was covered to a depth of 18 inches with "twigs" which we later discovered were vine prunings. Why anyone would save such things and store them at this level we never discovered. This room of course became the "twig room", but it was soon to disappear from the inventory for reasons I shall explain later.
In the "big room" room one could see evidence of a doorway which led into the back hall, but which had been completely plastered over on the hall side.
Leading from the "big room" was a low door which led to another room of almost the same size and with a cobbled floor done in the Italian style and usually only found in chateaux or houses of some distinction. A door from this room led in to the garden and naturally this became the "garden room". There was also evidence of a blocked doorway into the next part of the building, and to the room above.
Still two more doors to open and the visit will be complete.