Easy Like Sunday Morning; a glimpse into one couple's daily life in rural Brittany

Last year, Steve and I spent seven months in the Tarn Et Garonne region of France on a house sit, which confirmed our suspicions – we wanted to remain in France full time. The Dordogne and The Limousin had been our first choices, but a three day stay in Dinan changed all that.

We fell for the charms of Brittany after a visit to Dinan

What's not to like?

We fell in love with the area, viewed a property in the Cote D’Armor region, loved it, put an offer in on it and three months later, had taken possession of it J

Our little piece of France

We have now lived in our small and beautifully tranquil village of 450 people for three and a half months, and it has surpassed all our expectations.  Steve is busy full time on renovating our house, with me as his first mate, labourer, plaster mixer supreme and coffee maker.

I DO work, maybe not as much as Steve, but I try

Oh and when I get the time, I write!  I am sat now at our breakfast bar as I write this blog; out of the window I can see the birds in the garden as they flock to the feeders. The neighbours climbing rose trails lazily over our wall, sharing it's beauty with us. Swallows flit silently in the eggshell blue sky, catching midges on the wing, and once again I count my blessings. 

My regular visitor

I am a member of an ex pats Facebook site for those of us lucky enough to live in Brittany. On occasion, someone from the UK or further afield will ask the question – “We’re thinking of moving to Brittany, can you recommend it?” The question seems to be all the more pressing in light of Brexit. People are worried that things will change, now that the UK have decided to leave the EU, and that maybe they won’t be able to live and work as freely in France. My view is, that people lived and worked in France before the UK was a member of the EU, and will continue to do so regardless of the decision to leave. It is not something I worry about at all.

The questions about a move to Brittany are usually met by an overwhelming barrage of answers, most, if not all of which, say – YES, come and join us here in this beautiful area of France. Come and find out for yourselves what life is like here.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1538666086361820/

Steve and I left the UK in 2010 in a haze of disillusionment and disappointment to live in Gozo. 

Steve by the pool overlooking the sea at our old house in Gozo

It was an absolutely life changing experience. We were there for over five years; we made wonderful lifelong friends there who we miss to this day. We worked on the island as singers, developing a solid following of like-minded people who loved the music and the camaraderie. Unforgettable memories, most of which are recorded in my award winning 2^nd book entitled, Gozo, Is the Grass Greener?

With an honorable mention at the 2015 London Book Festival and a WINNER at the 2016 Paris Book Festival, my autobiographical book about Gozo has proved popular

When we made the decision to live in France, we had many dire warnings of how difficult it would be to settle here. From the nightmare we were promised if we tried to buy a house, to the acres of forms required to open a bank account and register for health care, the nay sayers had something to say on just about every subject possible.

I will admit, there have been some obstacles, but none have been insurmountable. We now have a joint bank account, which yes, DID require a lot of ID and form filling, but it was not impossible. We have house and car insurance here, which was considerably cheaper than in the UK and offered more in the way of benefits.

The process of buying the house was surprisingly straightforward and has been explored in a previous blog.

Buying the house was amazingly hassle free

The health care registration is ongoing, but IS getting sorted, slowly but surely. We have had no problem accessing health care in the meantime – doctors, dentist and a trip to the A&E of the local hospital when Steve managed to prong himself on a sharp tile.  We have found an English speaking vet for our rescue dog Merlin and have so far, been impressed with the care offered, both to us and Merlin J

The one and only Merlin, our rescued Griffon Bleu

The village we live in could be straight out of a novel. Quaint, friendly, and accepting. We know our neighbours and are regulars at the local café/bar for coffee or a Kir cocktail (or 2) J

Our local cafe/bar

The Mairie (local mayor) has been round for coffee and helped us to fill in the forms we needed when we had to get permission to put some new windows in. There is a wonderful boulangerie, just a short stroll from our house, where I can get heavenly fresh bread, mouth-watering patisserie and basic shopping six days a week.  On the way, I might meet 3 or 4 neighbours who are on the same bread buying mission; we exchange a pleasant bonjour and go about our business.

Decisions decisions

This is a rural area, with high levels of agriculture.  Acres of sweet corn rubs shoulders with the fast growing wheat. Hedges grow wild and untamed. Cows regard you with marvelous bovine disinterest as you walk on by, or if they are feeling mischievous they will rush at Merlin in an attempt to scare him and jostle noisily at the fence as they compete for the best position from which to see him. There are peaceful off road walks for me and Merlin; ponds with ragondin (coypu) wild duck, heron, buzzards, deer, foxes, badgers and much more. A short car ride will get you to areas with rivers, forests, lakes, historical buildings and areas of stunning beauty.  

Ragondin with babies

Our village at 6 am




There is space here. We never feel hemmed in or crowded. Even popular beauty spots seem secluded and almost muted in their tranquility. When I walk out in the early morning or late in the evening, the silence is quite literally deafening. 

Just before the sunrise in our village




Most of the people in the village seem to retire early, with shutters down and doors closed by 10pm. No one has music blaring out, no car engines revving, no shouting, just peace.

The beautiful early morning sun breaking through




The weather here suits Steve and I and we seem to have the best of both worlds. At the moment, we are enjoying the beautiful summer weather, with temperatures up in the high 20’s and low 30’s, which is quite hot enough for us. However, mornings still have that coolness, along with low lying mist over the fields. Perfect for walking Merlin and for making the most of the glorious countryside before it gets too hot.

Full moon!





We have not lived here through a winter, so cannot comment from experience. However, I am reliably informed that the winters are mild; frost and snow are rare. You can find out more about the weather in Brittany by following the link below.

http://gitelink.com/brittany/brittany-weather.htm

If it’s an ex pat community you want; you will have no difficulty in finding one in Brittany, though Steve and I prefer the more traditional aspects of life here. There are plenty of local bars with live music and many other social activities. Car boot sales are popular, as are fetes and similar festivities in the local villages.  Contrary to popular belief, the French are NOT ignorant, hostile, rude or awkward. We have found everyone to be pleasant, friendly, helpful and extremely polite. When you walk into a doctor’s surgery, a shop or anywhere really, everyone in the place will say good morning. Steve and I were initially taken aback in the local café when people we had never met would come in and greet us with a hand shake or a double kiss. I recall one lady bringing her five children in. Without a word from her, they all came over to us and shook Steve’s hand and kissed me soundly once on each cheek. Delightful J

There are small traditions here which endure. Each village has its own school; no question of closure, or moving several schools to one bigger school.  Local shops are supported; it would be unthinkable for a village, no matter how small, not to have a boulangerie!

I speak basic French, which is improving all the time. When no one around you speaks English, you learn very quickly. My vocabulary includes a startling variety of DIY and building phrases, such as, “We have some rubble to get rid of” – for the local rubbish tip! If in doubt I point and say, “Un comme ca s’il vous plait” J

Ready for the rubbish tip - again!




We know people who have lived here 20 years, while others, like us, have only been here a few months.  They all say the same – life here is lovely. Of course there are challenges; we are not living in a Disney movie, but there is an ease about living here, a laid back, relaxed vibe, which we soak up like sponges.  

So, if you are contemplating, “Shall we move to Brittany” I can speak from experience and say – do; you won’t regret it. Life is short, it is not a dress rehearsal. A recent study of people at the end of their lives discovered that they did not regret the things they had done, but the things they had NOT done, the risks they did not take and the road not taken.

Anyway, you will have to excuse me, I must go to the boulangerie, where I suspect there is a fresh baked baguette, and perhaps a strawberry tart with my name on it J

Ah yes, that'll do nicely





My new book, Caught in Traffick us due out imminently. It is a sequel to the award winning Known to Social Services. The book is about the harrowing world of child trafficking and is set in Thailand.

It will be available via Amazon in paperback and as a download. I will keep you informed.

Merlin also has his own short story, now available on Amazon, entitled, Merlin, The Hound Dog; Part One, In From The Cold. It is £1.99, a % of which will go to animal charities

Merlin also has his own Facebook page!

www.facebook.com/merlinthehounddog 

For more details about my writing, please visit my website;

www.freyabarrington.com

I will leave you with a few more photos of this most beautiful area.

A bientot J

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