A Year in the Languedoc

The year began with lunch a mouse infestation.

As I prepare to return to the UK for three weeks to work, it is just under a year since we left Bristol for the south of France to make a new life. A year on, how has it all been?

Well, despite the nay-sayers and fools who thought that they knew better than I and that the exchange rate and high tax would end it all in tears; pretty well, actually.  While the exchange rate has been an inconvenience, we minimised the effect by keeping as much in sterling until it has been needed. The poor exchange rate has seen the value of my income reduced and if things don’t improve, I’ll be returning to the UK to buy new vehicles – ain’t that a turn-up for the book? Balanced against this is the low interest rate that saw a small profit from the rental of our Bristol house. We would still prefer to sell it and not have the worry, but until things improve, the status quo remains.

The start of the year – after the cats sorted out the mouse infestation – was particularly cold with heavy snowfall.

Indeed, spring was rather late arriving, but when it did, the Languedoc climate was no disappointment. We enjoyed a scorching summer with temperatures approaching 40^o down by the Herault and I timed my workload so that I was here to enjoy it. So, while the UK basked in its barbecue summer (you did get that promised barbecue summer, didn’t you?), I was actually lazing in the sun and cooking outdoors. 

We did experience a few minor clashes with the infamous French bureaucracy. The cars were pretty straightforward when it came to registration. The bike was a different matter, taking six months. And if that seems drawn out, we still do not have our carte vitales following back and forth correspondence with the Caisse primaire d’assurance maladie in Béziers nearly a year after I sent them our E106. Apparently, the Béziers office is a bit on the slow side, so I am told…

Language has been a slight problem. Although we had basic French before moving, sometimes things become lost in translation – such as when I ordered the materials for our raised beds in the garden and the delivery included angle-iron for the corners – now that wasn’t what I ordered. I ordered timber. It has made pretty firm beds, though. Indeed, the garden has been transformed this past year and the transformation will continue from next spring.

That said, we have secured the services of a local French language tutor, so hopefully, these incidents will decrease with time.

Our feline population has expanded with a mother and three kittens in April and the arrival of Louis last month. We have now invested in a catflap that works on the cats’ microchips to keep next door’s gannets out and give our cats an opportunity to finish their food without being pushed aside. It also means things are a bit more peaceful overnight without the squabbles as the maurading toms try to make our house a part of their territory.

We have been involving ourselves in village life wherever we can – from Mrs L attending the benediction of the cross to the local Fête in July.

Coming back to the UK becomes harder with each trip and the week prior causes a sinking heart as I contemplate the long drive, the crowded roads and the abysmal weather (although I do get to see more of my parents and sisters than when I lived in the UK). France is now my home and we have no regrets about our move. The quality of life in a rural French village surpasses that on offer in a UK city. The French bureaucracy is a minor inconvenience when weighed against that quality of life. So, too is the abysmal exchange rate.

Yes, I’m returning to the UK, but I’ll be hopping back on the ferry in three weeks time and I can’t wait…