Issue No. 13

Our dream of moving to France grew dimmer and dimmer, we couldn't find
The phone burst into life with a sudden jolt
of energy, and picking it up, I heard a voice,
"Susan? Susan? Is that you? I think I may
have found something...". My heart gave a
lurch of excitement, the dread I had been
feeling for a week lifting off my chest. There
were more words on the other end of the
line, but I was already gone, drifting back to
France and the sound of cicadas.
With five children at school and a house to
pack, we'd decided it was my husband’s
turn to go house-hunting. We’d lived in
France before, we knew what we wanted
this time, going back to a country we loved
so much, and we'd drawn up a check-list of
things that were vital to the purchase, along
with a second list of things that would be
'nice'. We'd already chosen the area, the
Charente Maritime, for the prospect of
living in France's second sunniest region
appealed to us greatly. The seaside, figs,
lemons, olives, grapes and melons all
drifted in and out of our conversation, as
did mutterings of beach life and coastal
marshlands. So, he packed a small bag one
late June morning and I drove him to the
airport as we discussed gardens, rooms,
schools and resources. We were confident
enough he would find something from the
list of properties we had booked to see.
Except he didn't.
For five days, he drove his little hire-car
back and forth across the corn-studded
hinterland of the region, and down dusty
little coastal roads by the sea. He sent
nightly reports from a remote chambres
d'hôtes via intermittent internet, and he
slowly whittled down the list of appointments
till they had finished. There was
nothing that matched our list of requirements;
certainly not for the budget we had
in mind, anyway. Each house he visited had
a problem with it, lack of schools, distance
to a town or distance from the coast; there
was always something out of kilter. The one
house that had seemed ideal was signed
away the day before he was due to view. We
talked late into the night as our dreams
grew dimmer and dimmer.