The Great French House Hunt – The perfect House!


We called the first estate agent that we ever had the fortune to do business with ‘Monsieur Moustache’ on account of his formidably waxed and curled whiskers. I will never remember his real name despite the fact that he very nearly succeeded to sell us our first French house. The most recent, last week’s agent presented himself in tight black leather trousers, a black shiny jacket and open shirt, before offering me a lift in his black open-roofed convertible! He was Mr ‘Smoooth’,  … Monsieur Lisse.

If you have never experienced French house buying, here’s the nub. French Estate agents charge astronomic commissions on house sales. Something in the region of 8% and so they never, never let you know the address of the property, but whisk you there under a cloak of mystery and ensure that you sign a slip of paper after the visit acknowledging that ‘They’ were the ones who made the introduction.

Monsieur Lisse had two houses to show me and he did a very convincing job of trying to sell at least one to me. “Which, in my opinion” he asked” was the forerunner? It was fairly hard to be enthusiastic about either. It couldn’t compete with one i’d seen a few weeks earlier and which wasn’t on his books. When I advised him that the first house had a pleasant interior, but it’s exterior left a lot, and I emphasise ‘a lot’ to be desired he said..

“Ahh, mais Madame, on ne vit pas à l’exterieur, on vit à l’interieur. L’exterieur est sans importance…”

otherwise said..

“Ahh, Madam, one doesn’t live outside, one lives inside. The exterior has no importance..”

There I couldn’t disagree more.

I’ve always been somewhat of the opinion that the facade of a building is its face. Some wide eyed and open, others closed and sleepy, some sharp and mean, others friendly and welcoming. Its windows as its eyes, its door as its mouth. How can one choose a house based on its interior alone. A house is a reflection of its owner, it has presence; it frowns or it smiles, it forbids or it welcomes, it cocoons or it energises.

Normandy has a rich architectural history. Beautiful buildings in stone;  in red and golden brick with silex infil (a kind of stone cobble and mortar) and in colombage. Each style can be found in town and in country and each have their own particular style and beauty.

silex to be broken to form wall infil 

Here are just a few examples of what can be found:

Houses in stone:

classic and imperious,

Stylish but moody,

Classic but austere,

open and friendly,

grand and imposing,

reclusive and protective,

intimate.

and houses in colombage:

neighbourly and reticent,

charming and restful,

friendly and welcoming,

sleepy and protective.

or houses in brick and silex:

formal and quiet,

informal and friendly,

neighbourly and perky,

charming but secretive,

 restful.

or perhaps a mix:

It’s not just a question of location and view but how a house will interpret and reflect one’s mood.

So what am I looking for in a house?

In the city I would like one with presence. I like to have a beautiful front door on which I can hang my holly wreath at Christmas, and ideally with a front garden to protect it from passing revellers, perhaps a balcony and a space for hanging baskets in the summer. I would prefer stone with beautiful large original windows to throw light into the deepest recesses. It must be welcoming yet classic, friendly but demure.

In the country I would like a grassy drive so that my kids can hang out of the sunroof as they do every summer holiday, and practice driving the last few metres home. The house must be friendly but a refuge, capable of being opened up on the hottest summer days and battened down on cold wet wintery nights with a large chimney promising a roaring fire within.

So here is my choice for my great French house hunt:

My town house – this..

or this…

and my summer retreat – this, with a mountain or sea view!

or this…

So when Monsieur Lisse presented me with this:

and despite the fact that it had exactly the same internal layout as it’s neighbour..

..it was clear that it had been very badly manhandled.

What Monsieur Lisse hadn’t understood is that buying a house isn’t just about finding a house in the right location, nor is it about finding a house with a functioning interior, it’s about that feeling of pleasure as one rounds the corner, sees a beautiful piece of architecture  and thinks to oneself,

“….at last,  i’m home!”

The Great French House Hunt – where to live?


Our house in the UK is up for sale. It may be some time before a deal is done, but in the meantime I’m going to enjoy spending some moments identifying what I’m looking for.

We’ve lived in town, countryside and in the suburbs. each has it’s own positives and negatives, and this great french house hunt is the opportunity to put together a wish-list for the perfect home.

The city is wonderful for it’s activity, it’s buzz and vitality. I love that everything is on the door step – theatre, museums, galleries, shops, school. It takes no effort to move around. The quartier we live in has the main-line station to Paris, the metro system to cross the city and numerous buses to take me to the nearby brocantes, the atelier de patisserie and the swimming pool.

The car can stay parked up in the courtyard and I can walk when the weather is fine, or relax in a cafe and watch the world go by.

Every sunday I amble down to our local market:

but when the last morsel of goats cheese  has been eaten,

and all that remains of the baguette are a few last crumbs,

and the bottle of wine is empty,

I start to hanker for the greenery of the countryside, for a few hours to potter in the garden, the trickling of a little stream tumbling over its rocky bed, the clear blue skies of the summer, and the autumn mists. And then I think how much the countryside has to offer!

Call me a romantic if you will, but the prospect of opening my shutters in the morning and waking up to a view of lavender, vines, or mountains fills me with enthusiasm. Perhaps I could wake up to all three!

Recently I read the blog of Victoria Corby and sighed wistfully at her tale of joining the locals to do the vendange (grave harvesting). Back breaking work though it is, the quality of local tradition and community spirit shines through her experience

But perhaps it’s just the idea of the vendange lunch that appeals, with a bottle or two of last years wine to finish the day.

My sister in law was telling me about her last few weeks bottling fruits and making chutneys, and I wistfully thought about how much i’d like a potager.

and when the jobs were done there would be time to go cycling

and lounge in the garden

looking at the beautifully tended potager that I worked on earlier in the day!

I like the idea of the fète midsummer just to finish things off!

This jury’s out where the children are concerned:

It was inevitable really!

Perhaps we can find a wonderful house in the city with a garden attached, or maybe we keep the apartment and buy a small country cottage for the weekends and holidays….

only time will tell!