This Ole House - One Couple's Experience of Buying a Property in Brittany, France

The decision to buy a property in Brittany had been made. Houses of all shapes, sizes, and states of repair had been considered. From crumbly falling down barns, to old corn mills, we’d seen them all and, one by one, had rejected them. This was due in main to the lack of somewhere to live while the renovations took place. It’s all very romantic to think of having your own little piece of heaven in rural Brittany, but quite another matter when you have to live on site, during a freezing wet winter with no more than a draughty caravan to keep you warm. Also if the property has no mains utilities, the cost of hooking up can run into the thousands. So, tempting as it was to invest in a barn with some land, we decided against it.

Fantastic potential, but not for us

No again

And hell no!

We eventually settled on a detached, slightly tired and unloved house in Brittany’s Cote D’Armor region. Situated in a quiet village, population 450, with one bar/café, one boulangerie, a school, a mairie and a library, it was rural France at its best, and exactly what we’d been looking for. The house was just off the main road and in sight of the church, which as in most French towns and villages, towered imposingly above it all. The house had mains services, and though in need of a LOT of TLC and hard work and despite being cold and damp …… it was habitable – just.

YES!

The first viewing with Nikki from Leggett Immobilier

No frills, but habitable

Please may I have a new kitchen? Mind you, I do like that old dresser

The house was on the market with Leggett Immobilier – one of France’s premier estate agents - other estate agents are available J A family run business offering a personal touch, Leggett proved to be more than helpful. We had viewed dozens of properties with them in the Dordogne and Limousin regions, before deciding on Brittany, so had got to know a good few of their agents. All were friendly, knowledgeable and really professional.

When we finally made our decision, it was Nicola Grey (Nikki) who steered us through the process. 

Our lovely agent, Nicola Grey

We were still in Spain when we made the offer on the house. Once it was accepted, there was a feeling of “This is it, no turning back”. I have to admit to being more than a little daunted. I can speak some French, but certainly not enough to navigate through legal documents and the reams and reams of paperwork, which buying a house in France entails.

I need not have worried. Nikki was there, every step of the way.

I have tried to give a breakdown of the process of buying a house in France, as WE experienced it, in the hope it might help others who might be about to take the plunge. Please note, this was OUR experience, and is in no way intended as a definitive guide to buying a house in France. Always take advice before embarking on such a project and do your research.

Provide Your Documents

Once our offer had been accepted, we had to provide Leggett with all our personal details; passports, marriage licence, birth certificates etc. We also provided evidence of bank accounts, and proof of the financial means to purchase the property. All these are essential to the sale and must be provided as soon as possible, to avoid delay.

Dossier Diagnostic Technique

With the above information in place, a Dossier Diagnostic Technique (DDT) was then carried out on the property. This is a very thorough report about the state of the house. It looks at such things as wood worm, dry rot, asbestos, lead in the paint, damp, asbestos, wiring system, gas (if installed) sewerage, hazards and energy levels. It is the responsibility of the person selling the property to pay for this report, which at the time of writing cost approximately €700.

Compromis De Vente

Once the DDT was completed, we received the Compromis De Vente which is the first of two legally binding documents to be signed. This was sent by recorded delivery and consisted of a veritable forest of paperwork requiring signatures. There were literally hundreds of pages, each of which had to be signed or initialled front AND back, by both of us – that was a fun night in! The DDT was included in this, as was a full description of the house, along with confirmation of title deeds, personal details of all parties involved in the sale, and a provisional completion date. There was a breakdown of costs, including the notaire’s fees, agency fees, sale fee and details of the required deposit. 
Any furniture in the home, included in the sale, this will be included here as well.

Apart from the main contract, most of the documents were in French. Nikki arranged for an interpreter to contact us and go through the documents prior to signing. There would normally be a charge for this service. We were lucky in having Nikki who offers this as part of her personal service to her clients. 

Once signed, the documents all had to be returned by recorded delivery. The agent then waited until both parties had returned their signed documents before issuing a ten day cooling off letter.

Cooling Off Period

All potential purchasers of property in France, are permitted a ten day cooling off period. This is the last opportunity to pull out of the sale without forfeiting a 10% deposit. The ten day cooling off period usually begins the day after the fully signed (by yourself and the vendor) contract is delivered to your address by recorded delivery.

If you did wish to withdraw at this stage, you would need to send a signed letter by recorded delivery stating this.

Make sure you are 100% certain about it before proceeding

Providing you are proceeding, which we were; it’s now time to sit back and wait – usually 3 to 4 months. During this time, the notaire will undertake all the necessary work on the property. Much like a solicitor in the UK. They do the searches and much more.

Putting up the Funds

Prior to completion, we had to pay the deposit, and transfer money to the notaire for her fees. We then had to make a full transfer of ALL monies two full days prior to signing. A French bank account is useful but not essential at this stage. 

More on my experience of opening a French bank account later on in another blog.

Insurance and Taxes

You MUST have home insurance in place prior to signing the final documents. It is a legal requirement in France.

Also, be prepared to pay a Tax Fonciere in France; it is payable by the owner usually in September of each year. We paid a proportion of it prior to signing, so won’t now have to pay it again until September 2017.

There is also a Tax Habitation, which is payable if you live in a furnished, habitable property on the first of January each year. Usually issued in September for payment in December.

Acte De Vente

Once everything was in place and the monies had been transferred, we were ready to sign our Acte De Vente – the final legally binding document. For this, our presence was required at the notaire’s office. We had made our plans to leave Spain and make the trip up to Brittany, timing it so that we were there on the day in question to sign.

We were in the notaire’s office, along with Nikki and a translator for about an hour. We had sent proof of our home insurance before the meeting, so all was in place. All the documents were checked and double checked, and all parties signed. As the vendor was still in the UK, she had pre-signed, so it was just Steve and I.

In our case, there was no chain and no hold ups, so the whole process was relatively quick. We made our offer the 2^nd week in January, and signed the final documents on 29^th March. Once you sign, you immediately become the legal owners and are handed the keys. We were also delighted to be handed a lovely bottle of celebratory champagne by Nikki – what a treat J

Mmmm a great treat, thanks Nikki

Utilities

In our case, Nikki handled everything prior to us moving in. She organised the electricity and water to be turned back on and set up direct debits with my new French bank. She also organised an Internet/TV/Phone deal with Orange France for us, so the Internet was up and running the day we moved in.  This was all a huge help, and one that cannot be underestimated in terms of convenience. As I have said, my French is okay, but as yet, I do not have enough vocabulary to discuss setting up electricity accounts or ordering an Orange Live Box etc.

In General

Overall, we found the experience of buying a house in France very straightforward. What I did discover once we were a bit more settled, is that there are usually English speaking help lines for all the major utilities and services – that really IS a big help. Well done France J

The DHL Disaster!

There were some obstacles, but thankfully nothing, which hindered the process. When Leggett send the Compromis De Vente they used DHL as couriers. However, we were way out in the middle of nowhere in rural Spain and the couriers seemed to have simply given up on us! It took two whole weeks for us to get the documents, despite me sending DHL detailed written instructions of how to find us from two different directions.

At one stage, I had a discussion with the manager of DHL in Spain who basically blamed us for living in such a remote place! I was told that his couriers “do not have the time to be looking for your house”. He seemed startled when I reminded him that it was actually their JOB to look for our house as that’s what they were being paid for. We were repeatedly promised the documents, to no avail. On one particular day, I was checking the tracking information, and it said, “Item delivered to house, signature intelligible” – WHAT?

DHL's appalling service left me speechless!

Once again I was on the phone to DHL asking which house had this been delivered to as it sure as hell wasn’t ours! I was told that the documents were now “lost” and would have to be retrieved and resent!

A few days later I was assured yet again that the documents would be with us tomorrow. Tomorrow came, but by 4pm, no documents. I rang DHL again (sigh) and was told by an impatient sounding Spanish lady, “They are coming, they are coming”. At 6pm I received a phone call from the courier. He spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish, so it was a somewhat comical exchange with both of us raising our voices and repeating things in that way people do in an attempt to be understood. The only bits I understood were, “Huescar” and “Repsol”. Huescar was a town about 10 miles away from where we lived and Repsol was the petrol station there.

To cut a long story short, the driver had simply left our highly confidential and important documents at the petrol station 10 miles away! Luckily I guessed what he had done and we drove straight there. The man in the petrol station happily handed the documents over without so much as asking for any identification – not impressed DHL, not impressed at all.

All in All

DHL aside, we eventually got there and have to say that the process was nowhere near as complex, drawn out or frustrating as we had been led to believe. We had done it, we had bought a house in France.

                ----------------------------------------------

As we stepped over the threshold, our noses wrinkled at the smell of damp and fustiness, which had accumulated over the months the house had stood empty. It felt cold and neglected, which indeed it was. However, despite all this, I felt a great sense of adventure and excitement. I knew that Steve was more than capable of transforming the house into something wonderful, and making us a home we could be proud of.

After only three weeks here, this is the amazing kitchen transformation by my super clever husband and he's not finished yet

If you keep following the blog, you can come on the journey with us and share in the fun J

For more details on buying a home in France, I recommend you visit the Leggett website where you will find more details of their extensive services.

http://www.frenchestateagents.com/

To find out more about me and my writing, please visit;

www.freyabarrington.com

All the best

Freya 

On The Road Again

It was time to leave Spain.

We had rented an isolated cortijo in order for me to have three months of peace and quiet to finish my third book.

Spain was a stunningly beautiful place to live

I had achieved that goal, and we had thoroughly enjoyed our brief time in this tiny place called San Clemente, close to a town called Huescar. Surrounded by mountains, and a breath taking reservoir of water so blue, it looked as if someone had added dye to it. There were acres of almond trees, blossoming pink, stony fields, herds of sheep and goats and nothing much else, it was a truly stunning place to live. 

The San Clemente reservoir

And spectacular sunsets

Snow topped mountains

The shepherd with his roaming flock of sheep and goats

And of course, the griffon vultures!




However, lovely as it was, it wasn’t France – France had captured our hearts.

And so came the task of loading up to travel again. Those of you who know us, will be aware that this is a job for Steve. I am NOT, I repeat NOT permitted to load the Land Rover as I will get it wrong and the universe as we know it will cease to function. I am however allowed to pass things, but even this is fraught with indecision and worry. Will I pass the wrong thing? Will I stack it all wrong outside the waiting Land Rover? Sigh, it’s a daunting task.

Just SOME of the stuff, which had to be packed!




Steve had been sorting stuff out for many weeks prior to us leaving, so by the time we were ready to pack the vehicle, we had a veritable mountain of things to get in there. Even Steve looked a bit dubious as he eyed it up, mentally making a note of what would go where and how. I rushed about making coffee, bacon sandwiches and generally getting in the way.

“Is that it now?” asked Steve in a clipped tone somewhere between Sam the American eagle off Sesame Street and Doc Martin.

“Err, I think so” I replied hopefully.

“No, I mean is that REALLY it?” he said more forcefully – a bit more Jason Statham on a bad day.

I looked around nervously wondering if stuff would manifest out of the air.

“Nope” I said with some relief, “That is IT. On no hang on, here’s my jewellery box, I really wanted it in the front, but I’ll put it behind my seat if there’s room”

“Steve escorted me out and pointed to exactly where I should put the box. Under close supervision, I pushed the box in. It just about went behind the head rest, just about.

“That’s definitely it now” I said with great satisfaction jumping down.

Our trusty Land Rover, which has traveled thousands of miles with us




Steve remained unconvinced and began prowling round the house checking all the nooks and crannies. I returned to the kitchen for more coffee. I stood poised, cafetiere in hand. I stared at it almost in surprise as it dawned on me. Oh hell’s bells, I’d forgotten about this, oh and the cups we’re currently drinking coffee out of. Quickly washing them up, I also realised that the fairy liquid still stood in its usual place by the sink. Drat, this isn’t going to earn me any points. Hurriedly, I whisked them onto the “Things for packing” table and tried to pretend that they had always been there.

He was not fooled, not for one second.

“Where’d these come from?” said Steve suspiciously as he returned from his military style, grid sweep of the house.

“Ahh yes, just those and then that’s it” I said casually.

I think I heard a growl as he picked them up and spirited them away.

“Make sure I can find my cafetiere” I called hopefully - I don’t do well without my coffee.

The pile of “Things for packing” had finally been reduced to nothing. I looked on the table for my own little pile of “Things for taking in the front with me”, but it was no longer there. I had mouthwash, baby wipes and other useful items for cleanliness and personal hygiene. They were gone.

“Have you seen the mouthwash?” I asked, dreading the response.

“Was it on the table?” asked Steve in a half accusatory tone.

“Mmm yes, it was with my things for having in the front with me” I explained.

“If it was on the table; it’s packed” came the blunt, no nonsense, don’t argue about it, answer.

“Ahh” I said fighting an immediate urge to use some mouthwash.

And so, we were ready to leave. Even Steve had satisfied his fear of leaving something behind, and was stood, car keys in hand – ready.

“Oh the rubbish” I suddenly remembered with a stab of panic.

Steve’s face darkened, this was not part of his plan.

“WHAT rubbish?” he demanded.

“Well, all the rubbish” I replied, “We can’t leave it here. There’s a big black bin liner full”

He sighed, deeply and with great meaning. “And just WHERE exactly do you propose we put it?” he asked with a thin smile, which was only pretending to be friendly.

And so it was that; we set off up the road with me sharing space with an enormous bag of rubbish squashed on my knee. No mouthwash, but a bag of rubbish. Thankfully, it was only about half a mile to the bins where the rubbish and I fell gratefully out of the door together, as I rid myself of its unwanted presence. If only I’d had some baby wipes to clean my hands!

Never mind, we were off. We had planned to make this a trip with two overnight stops, arriving at our destination in Brittany on day three. After all, it was a drive of over 17 hours, which even by Steve’s standard was fairly epic.

On the road at long last






Within ten minutes of jettisoning the rubbish, I wanted coffee, but knew there was no chance of getting any for many hours yet. On long journeys, I become easily bored and tend to rummage around in my rucksack, the glove compartment and everywhere else I can reach to see what might bring me some relief from the endless journey. Aha, chewing gum. I pounced, though knew it wasn’t the same as a good cup of coffee.

“Want some?” I asked Steve. He nodded, and in the way women do, I popped a piece in his mouth for him as he drove.

Precisely five minutes later, I had lost all interest in my gum as its flavour disappeared. I rootled around until I found a bit of tissue to wrap it in and that was that distraction over. Now what?

“Are you getting ready for a coffee?” I asked hopefully after what I felt was a respectable length of time.

“No” came the one syllable response as Steve applied his concentration to the road ahead.

Well, it was worth a try. Devoid of coffee, I tried to focus on the beauty of the surroundings as we drove through mountains, fields, valleys, gorges and more. It truly was a lovely area, and while we were sad to leave Spain, we were doubly excited to be on our way back to France.

Great scenery






Without any warning, a car pulled out in front of us. Steve braked and my jewellery box dislodged itself and bonked me on the back of the head.

“Ouch” I exclaimed rubbing my head.

“You okay?” asked Steve concerned.

“I’m fine thanks, I’ll just stick this box back up there”. I wriggled around in my seat and managed to poke the box back into its tiny space.

“There” I said, “It’s back”.

Settling once again to the splendour of the drive, it wasn’t long before the vibration of the Land Rover shook the box free again and BANG, it bonked me on the back of the head yet again.

“You only packed one thing” said Steve in exasperation.

He was right. Despite his supervision, the one item I packed was an utter failure! Sigh, not one thing he packed ever moved, not for 17 long hours.

Finally, it was time for coffee and I had to restrain myself from falling weeping at the feet of the man who sold it to me. Like I said, I do not do well without my coffee.

Back on the road again, the boredom soon set in. I remembered the gum.

“Want some more gum?” I asked.

“Still got this piece” came the laconic response.

How does that work? I mean it can’t possibly have any flavour left whatsoever AND he had a coffee!

After about 8 hours of driving, we reached our initial destination, the Salles Airport Hotel in Girona. We had stayed here before and liked it a lot. If you ever need to fly out of Girona, this is an ideal hotel. Very close to the airport, with lots of parking, decent rooms, and a spa; we loved it.

Once we’d dumped our bags, we headed for the restaurant – both more than ready for a proper meal. I noted with some amazement that Steve finally got rid of his chewing gum – seriously?

We studied the menu and had a discussion, which went a bit like this.

Steve; I’ll have that chicken if it’s boneless (Steve does not eat food, which contains, bones OR skin)

Me; Well, I can ask.

Steve; Yes, but I ONLY want it, if it’s boneless with no skin either. I don’t want it if it’s got bones or skin on.

Me; Yes, I know, this is not the first time I’ve ordered food for you.

I was pleased to see that the same waiter worked there as the last time we stayed. He spoke perfect English, which was a huge bonus as I have no Spanish whatsoever.

“Hi there” I said brightly, “Do you remember us? We stayed here a few months ago”. The man smiled warily; clearly he did not remember us, but nodded politely and pretended that he did.

Pointing to the menu I asked, “Is this chicken boneless?” He leaned in, studied it for a moment and declared, “Yes madam, boneless”. I nodded, “Aha, so, just to clarify, it has no bones in it at all, it’s a chicken filet?” He drew himself up an inch or two before answering, “No bones in it madam, no”. Smiling in relief that there was something Steve would actually eat, I continued, “Great, then we’ll have one chicken, and one risotto thank you”.

We weren’t done yet.

“Do you have decaffeinated coffee?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes madam, decaffeinated coffee is available.  

“Wonderful” I exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, “One decaf coffee and one white wine then”.

As we waited for our food, we relaxed and chatted about our trip, with that feel good feeling you get when things are actually going to plan. Steve drank his coffee and I enjoyed my glass of wine. The food arrived; my risotto looked lovely, but as the waiter put the chicken in front of Steve, we exchanged a weary look. Yes, you’ve guessed it, it was ON the bone, clearly NOT boneless. I sighed, “Give it to me” I said as I began separating the unfortunate fowl from its bones. I handed it back to Steve, NOW it was boneless!

Later on, and by later on I mean four o’clock in the morning, we had a discussion;

Steve; “Are you awake?”

Me; “Well, I wasn’t, but I am now”

Steve, in a tight voice; “I’ve not been to sleep yet”

I shook my head in silent sympathy

Me; “Coffee wasn't decaf then?” I said, stating the obvious.

Steve; “Nope” came the reply

Why was I not surprised.

The next day after precious little sleep, Steve was ready to roll again. It didn’t take us very long to leave the country of Spain behind for good. As we crossed the Spanish French border and saw the mountains of France come into view, along with the familiar road signs, the space and the beauty of it all, we felt like we had come home.

We had another day of travel, staying overnight in Niort before finally setting off on day three to our real destination.

Brittany.

Coming next ………………… signing for our new home and moving in J

Check out my website at www.freyabarrington.com

Or visit my Facebook page and give it a like J

www.facebook.com/freyabarrington

All the best

Freya