On leaving The Hearth

Today is a Saturday and I am in the south of France; to be precise, at our home, The Hearth, between the hamlet of l'Escale and the Forêt de Picaussel – living on the edge, you might say! We came here in 2014, a month after our wedding. We spoke of the adventure of living outside the UK, and promised ourselves “three years in the sun”.

Once we were here we dreamed dreams of making this old stone house and attached barn into a place of generous hospitality. We planned a large eating-kitchen, several bedrooms and bathrooms, level access, possible programmes of activity, reflection, and relaxation, film nights, tours of the Cathar region, visits to vineyards and markets, excursions to Andorra...

Working largely on our own, we got as far as clearing the barn, renovating the attic, re-creating the garden, and excavating 'Brambly Hollow' – our bit of wilderness, much loved by deer and sanglier (wild boar), owls, jays, and woodpeckers. In breaks from labouring, we checked out the markets, vineyards, Cathar castles, local spa towns and ski centres; we walked, sat, explored, welcomed many guests to stay, and entertained even more around our garden table (up-cycled by The William from a huge wooden trunk left abandoned in the attic); we sang, talked, wrote, took photos, star-gazed, watched eagles soaring above us, and dreamed more dreams. We believed we had found our for-ever home, and there was much to make us happy, in addition to being together again after 37 years of separation - but that's a different story! (And yes, we are that old!)

But, sadly for them as much as for us, some of our neighbours did not welcome the changes we were making, however positive; some even claimed rights over our land, despite assurances to the contrary from our Notaire and visible proof from the bornage (boundary markers). Our plans were vehemently opposed; we became the target of verbal abuse, and under threat of court action.

As we saw it, this was a lose-lose situation. If we went to court and lost, we wouldn't be able to achieve our dreams; if we went to court and won, we'd have to face the antipathy of the local bullies on a daily basis – not the ethos of the dream. Sadly, angrily, frustratingly, and eventually, we came to the conclusion that the dream is not achievable here. As one of the former villagers has recently said (having moved away herself): “L'ambiance ici, c'est merde!” And it was well said. So, where to go? what to do?

I often, perhaps boringly, say that whatever decisions one makes, they're the best decisions possible at the time. And I do believe that. But I also believe in learning from experience. After much soul-searching, we're trying as far as is reasonably possible to take these latter, unhappy experiences as a lesson: a lesson which confirms that neither of us are confrontational people, that we are inclined to live and let live, that sunshine and beautiful scenery do not of themselves make us happy, and that, instead of aiming to provide comfort and re-creation for others, we need more than ever actually to achieve it for ourselves.

So, despite post-Brexit uncertainties, we are going to give France, and ourselves, another chance – but a long way from here: in fact, in Brittany. We have accepted an offer on our house, made an acceptable offer on a house in the Côtes d'Armor, and are halfway through packing up. Six weeks from now, we''ll be gone - and probably forgotten soon after. Dust will be shaken from our sandals as we go onward and upward... and we did get those three years in the sun!

But this time, using that precious and hard-won hindsight to guide us, we've made different choices. Climate, landscape, and, in our experience, people, are extreme here, and we're not fans of extremism of any sort. In Brittany we know that the climate and the landscape are gentler: we hope to find the people so too! Also, instead of what very soon became recognisable as a renovation project in a small enclave, we've chosen a detached house, with a clearly defined plot, still on the edge of a village but with a road that goes both ways – no more cul de sacs for us, thank you. And no more long trips to the shops, doctor, vet, what have you: we'll be less than 15 minutes drive away from two sizeable towns, one of which hosts an English-speaking congregation on two Sundays a month. We've missed the opportunity to worship and to socialise in the safe environment that we have previously, if not always, found churches to be, and, feeling somewhat bruised, we want a bit of a haven, as well as the spiritual and intellectual stimulation that the best churches provoke!

So, change of place, change of life-style (do I get to throw away all those worn out work clothes now?), and a change of name: no longer The Hearth, but Karningul. As I'm sure you know, or at least if you know some Westron as well as Elvish, Karningul was the Last Homely House, west of the mountains, east of the sea: "a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all". Sounds good to me.