Our French Adventure - part one
- gillian607
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
Our life in France
The more astute readers will have noticed there’s a subtle link between several of my novels. That’s right! They’re set in France.
I’ve never been a Francophile in the real sense. I remember at school complaining that I had to study French and saying: ‘it’s not like I’ll ever live in France.’
WRONG! That said, my teen years weren’t great in terms of insight. I was also convinced I was going to marry Mark Owen from Take That and that my friend Jo and I were going to be given our own TV show by Channel 4 after we sent in a tape of us pretending to do a talk show.
Spoiler: reader I did NOT marry him. And still waiting on a positive response from Channel 4 (it’s only been three decades, so any day now)!
For me, moving to France began in the most cringeworthy way – I was watching ‘A Place in the Sun’ (a programme on which Brits try to find their dream home in warmer climes) during the school summer holidays and noticed that French properties were a lot more affordable than ones in the UK. In fact, we could buy a property with the equity from our UK house and live mortgage free! It was a momentary thought, but it clearly lodged in my brain.
I was a middle school teacher at the time and had just taken over the English department at my school. An inspection was looming and I was exhausted. November came, and I was driving to work in the dark, home in the dark. Worse, my husband and I had been going through fertility treatment which had failed. In the summer, I’d had to decide whether to use our savings on a car or on a shot at getting a baby. I chose the baby, but the treatment was unsuccessful.
Things at work became increasingly stressful, my mental and physical health was taking a battering. Then one night after a seemingly endless staff meeting, I suddenly had an epiphany. I didn’t want to go on like this, so why didn’t we up sticks and move to France! I suggested it to Ray when I got home and he said yes.
We weren’t quite as decisive as that sounds. While we put the house on the market and sold it quite quickly, we stayed in the UK for another year, ostensibly to ‘save’ (we saved very little). During that time I got pregnant from IVF, work settled down and I got cold feet a couple of times.
But by this point, Ray was convinced it was a great move and had enough enthusiasm for the both of us. Which is great, because when we arrived I knew we’d made the right decision. France seemed idyllic.
It was summer, our garden was sun-drenched and enormous. And after the tumultuous years of teaching and the exhaustion that accompanied it, it was quiet. Still. Tranquil.
Exactly what we needed.
To be continued…