Rain... but No Clouds... Now that's a Weird Start!

There was no inkling when we rolled up that anything was unusual about Le Roz... 'The Rose'... an 18th Century Corps de Ferme (the heart of a farm with all but 3,000m2 of it's land redistributed amongst neighbouring working farms) we plucked it from dereliction. And from under the noses of some local would-be buyers, who we pipped to the post; those who might have had a weather eye on the place themselves...but bought by this barmy couple from England. Since March 1999 and the signing of the Compromis and the paying of 10% deposit, we had eagerly awaited the call to say that all the documentation was complete and we were ready for the Acte Finale... Balance wired to the Notaire for placement in his clients' holding account, we were on the blocks and ready for the 'off' when Russell (who had introduced us to the house in the guise of introducing agent) called to give us the preferred date for the transfer of ownership. He suggested that we should meet him at 3 O'clock outside the Notaire's office in Uzel, a small hilltop town, more suitable maybe as a location for a1960s Eastern European movie with grainy, moody shots and subtitles rather than the place where our Brittany property ownership saga might begin. He also suggested that we should 'swing by the 'ouse' before hand just to be sure that everything is as we might want it to be before signing the paperwork. Uzel is around 6km down windy lanes (Cornwall style) from Le Ros.

It was August 4th and everything had gone well on the channel crossing. Once again there was no shortage of enthusiastic chatter and, laughably, we had packed the interior of our (2+2) Audi soft top with all manner of nonsense... A Gaz Lantern, a miniscule camping stove, Lilo airbed and even a petrol strimmer poking through the hole above the rear seat armrest through to the boot where Audi designers intended us to store our skis! (lol)...I'm not sure that feature was included with us in mind... maybe wood from a DIY store or today the trusty strimmer - but not skis. There may even have been a spade and a garden fork in there too... All the required paraphanalia for our first night's stay before we made a more lasting base camp from which to tackle some meaningful renovations.

As we rolled to a stop in front of the house there was not a lot to separate this visit from the view we had looked at the last time we were there... The garden (that's a laugh)... was severely overgrown in front and to the sides of the house. Undergrowth of fairytale proportions engulfed the house and outbuildings and the house itself looked as neglected now as it had done four months earlier but the windows that had been open and that had allowed us to take a look round were now locked shut. The barn opposite was accessible - someone had obviously opened the doors as the grass had recently been laid flat in two arcs... like sections of a mini corn circle; windscreen wiper sweeps of flattened straw - for the summer sun had dried the grass. When we had viewed the place back in March opening the barn's doors revealed two old trailers tents, an upright freezer topped off with a cow's skull complete with horns... there was all sorts of detritus, hay bales, rotting timber, - bits and bobs you might expect to find in places like this scythes, sickles, pitchforks - even an adze and the rustiest old plough... All of the tools and implements to work a fermette were there. And everything had been covered with layers of dust.

The sun was shining (see pics from the day)... bright white clouds, just a few, skirted the valley beyond the drive in from the lane and they moved smoothly and gently on a warm breeze. So, engine off and, looking round over my shoulder for my camera...reaching for the door handle to go and explore. And suddenly - a clap of thunder preceded an instant downpour... No messing! Stair-rods that punched the ground and machine gunned the windows of the car and beat on the roof like a phalanx of Japanese drummers... It sounds hysterical but the deluge onset so fast and was so furious and unexpected that we could not get out of the car. Restricted to looking out of the window at what was going on and having to wipe the windows clear of condensation, puddles were forming on the mud and grass driveway within just a few seconds. The rain persisted for 30 minutes and hardly changed its pace or consistency. But, as if on a timer, it stopped as  just as quickly as it had begun. Just as instantaneously as switching off a power shower. 'Click' and it was gone... leaving just a steaming landscape... but after emerging from the car, avoiding the standing water and having a cursory wander around it became obvious that only the house and garden had actually been affected by the rain. Walking back toward the lane and having a look at the road's surface itself it was completely dry.... A further cautious walk around - because now it was beginning to feel a bit spooky... across the garden in front of the house - peering through the dripping foliage to the adjacent field... the wheat growing there was as dry as a bone and rustling in the slight breeze that still blew gently.  Walking right around the perimeter as best one could because the place had not been maintained and was a mass of brambles and undergrowth, it became obvious just the land on which the property we were about to buy stood - was wet...! The neighbours' house, which backed immediately onto land beyond our two barns, was completely dry... not a drip mark on it. It did seem very odd but it couldn't be said that it wouldn't be possible. So, returning to normality but now pressed for time we had a closer look at the house but without proper access we were restricted to squinting through the ground floor windows. It appeared to have been emptied of some of the nicer bits and pieces that we remembered... We were even able to recognise some fire damaged hinges from some cupboards we had admired (there had been some really handsome looking items and we had passed a message that was not heeded) and we recognised them as having been attached to items in the house when we had scurried from room to room when we had our impromptu viewing in March. Right now there were still puddles around the car and the grass steamed across the drive. "Shall we go"?

When we arrived at Uzel Russell was leaping from one foot to the other outside the Notaire's office. Maitre Didier Pencemont was waiting for us at his other office in Loudeac... rubber stamp poised. Loudeac is a larger town some 10 kilometres away. So, off we went... Russell was not the slowest of drivers so it was an eventful journey. The signing of the Acte Finale went smoothly with plenty of nodding and occasionally some explanation of clauses that either he or Russell felt that we might not comprehend. Having worked our way through the initial Compromis where simply we agreed to buy at 120,000 Francs and they agreed to sell at the same price and what exactly was included... this was not a surprise - nor was it that difficult to follow. We merely had to place our initials... all of us... at the foot of each page, indicating that we agreed to all of the points hitherto and then sign in full and date etc., on the final page. Representatives of the LeRoy family, the vendors, engaged the Notaire to sign the documentation on their behalf. The transfer of funds had been received and, indeed, we were given a cheque for the equivalent of £175 to represent, I think, the discrepancy in funds between Francs and Sterling since the first document had been signed back in March. This came in handy in the bar round the block to which we repaired immediately after we had done all of the forelock tugging that was necessary as we backed out of the Notaire's office, keys to Le Ros in hand!

As I said it was August 4th and, as the deed had been done, we booled round the corner and watched Russell burn rubber out of the town centre car park (it's always free to park) and we headed toward a hotel which we had spotted a few times as we'd passed through Loudeac - and asked if we could have a room for the night. "If you have not a reservation - then I am afraid we have nothing" said the concierge. "It is August and hotels everywhere are complet" he said with glee. We hadn't booked and so having tried also the hotel across the town square too to no avail, we quickly realised that the tiny stove we'd brought with us and the Lilo were about to come in very handy. We popped back to the bar that we'd been in with Russell and enjoyed our first meal out as French property buyers! Then we headed in a winding back roads kind of way back to our very own house in Brittany!
It was still way before night fall, being only around 7pm so after letting ourselves into the house we pulled a couple of unmatched chairs out of the barn and a circular folding metal table, patterned with holes and enjoyed a fine sunset and a bottle of red... but not before we had set up camp on the first floor and had an opportunity to have a look round at our bargain buy... Biggest moan? Obviously one of the team who had cleared the house of all the decent stuff and burned what they didn't want for themselves... they had taken the plastic tap tops from the kitchen sink - so turning taps on (sorry, tap singular) and off was a mole grip job. That night, because we'd had a fair bit to drink, sleep came quite easily amidst the excitement of realising we had a house in France... but, at around 3am I reached the floor with my bum and my shoulder blades as I realised we had a slow puncture. Foot pumped back to full pressure took us back to sleep state until morning proper.