Rhae Elliott and her husband Keith did what most of us imagine doing when watching the TV programmes telling the stories of people who sell up and leave all familiar things to start life in a new country. They made the decision to move to Central France making the dream of a life abroad a reality. After several visits investigating different areas of France they bought a wonderful 200-year-old farmhouse and dilapidated cottage in the Berry Creuse region and began a new life. In a year they redecorated the farmhouse, renovated the cottage and ran a successful gite business. The story tells of the necessary steps to get health cover, problems with local builders and dealings at the Maire. It tells of marathon lunches and continues with tales of visits to local fetes. It explains the difficulties encountered mastering the language and the way the British network to help each other in a Foreign Land.
Rhae Elliott liked security and things familiar. She enjoyed going to work and meeting people. She is a team player and likes a scheduled and organised life. However, she is not afraid of new challenges and will raise to the occasion when necessary. When her husband said he wanted to move to a new country she was hesitant. However, after looking at all the advantages and disadvantages she decided to give it a try.
Fontvieille
At the end of July and we were on our way back to France again, to the Berry/Creuse region for a house hunting expedition. We called into various estate agents ending up at Berry Creuse Immoblier where we met Sophie our estate agent to be. Everything about Sophie was in top gear. She was a very attractive lady in her late twenties. She had long auburn hair and dressed in very expensive, very fashionable, very French clothes. She wore shoes with long pointed toes and extremely high heels. We were amazed that she kept her balance as she paced up and down, up and down whilst puffing furiously on endless cigarettes. She spoke to us in a mixture of French and English tripping over her words in her haste to say whatever she had to say quickly, loudly and accompanied by rapid gesticulation. During the course of our stay she whizzed us around many many houses until finally she took us to see a farmhouse at Fontvieille. “But it is most probably too late” she said “I think it is sold but if you like then we know what you want and we can look for it”.
She told us that Fontvieille was a quiet hamlet on the top of a hill. It was just a small community but the people were very friendly. She told us that you could drive to the nearest town, La Souterraine, in about 10 minutes. She added that in La Souterraine there were lots of small shops, boutiques, flowers shops, the usual bakers, butchers, newsagents and café tabacs. There was also a weekly market in the main square. She said that on the outskirts of La Souterraine there was a very large shopping precincts where you could buy everything you needed. The stores there included Monsieur Bricolage DIY, Champion, Leclerc and Lidl Supermarkets, cheap petrol, trades shops and garages.
We drove towards La Souterraine then turned off the main road to head out into the countryside. We raced down country lanes at breakneck speed until we came to a renovated chateau, Chateau Fontvieille. Here the road turned to the right and we headed down into the sleepy hamlet of Fontvieille, a circle of nine houses set round a courtyard. There were still traces of the ancient stone wall that had once encased the hamlet and the gateway that used to be closed at night to keep marauders out.
We drove to the far right-hand corner of the hamlet and stopped outside a long stone built farmhouse that looked out over open fields and the valley beyond. There was a large terrace at the rear of the property where lizards scurried about, climbing walls, changing colour through sand to green as they rested near grass or stone. It was a hot day and the sun was shining in a blue and cloudless sky as we entered the house. Inside the rooms were huge and cool with white walls and enormous oak beams. Keith and I looked at each other; there was no need for discussion. It was coup de foudre, (struck by lightening) love at first sight.