Making a Living in Limoux

When we decided to move to France just over a year and a half ago, we didn't stress too much about how we were going to financially make do.

"Hey we'll manage.
Got a bit of savings to last a few months.
Live life to the full.
We're bound to find something.
Learn a bit of French first then find a job teaching English or cleaning gites or whatever.
Let's take each day as it comes and things will sort themselves out....."

Actually thankfully we didn't think like that but there are many who do.

We did in-fact have some vague monetary plans. Bill planned to be a consultant in his field of development work and I planned to work from home with my websites. We had a little nest egg of what we thought was sufficient for a year of 'no work' just in case things didn't go as planned.

Well our nest egg very quickly became a nest without eggs. We were caught in that trap of wanting to do up the house, do up the garden, enjoy the sunshine and our new lifestyle and sample all the local delights and delicacies. And not worry about work.

All very well, but all that costs money. And we have 3 kids and a dog.

Being a bit naive about real costs (having coming from Vietnam where everything was so cheap as most things seem to be made there), we didn't anticipate the real costs of our new lifestyle.

We bought a newish house. Great we thought little work to do.

Wrong.

The French tend to strip their house when they sell it. We never realized that 30 light fittings and lampshades would cost so much or that planting a small hedge would mean a small mortgage.

So to counteract misjudgement, Bill packed his bags and went to work in far off places and i dusted off my desk and chair and sat down to balance the books and write more website pages.

Being a consultant work is never sure. Bill either seems to have too much or hes' stressing about when the next job will be. However recently he has landed a 2 year contract in Liberia which means 2 months on and 2 months off. Not ideal but it's work.

As for me, well I started dabbling with the Internet a few years ago when we were living in Asia. I wanted a job that was mobile and which allowed me to be at home with the kids when i wanted to be. That led to me creating a couple of hobby websites which have been a godsend and which I just love doing.

I soon discovered that I could earn a living from them and they now earn me income though advertising and commissions from sales.

You can read more about it here: www.kids-partycabin.com

Oh and i started this blog - but that's for fun!

A few things we discovered:

• France is not cheap. Many of our visitors from the UK feel it's much more expensive in France.
• If you don't speak good French, your chances of finding a decent paying job are slim unless you have contacts or are in a big town/city.
  
• Many French people work for family or friends. Learn French and make lots of friends and your chances might be higher.
  
• Unemployment in France is higher than in the UK.
• Teenagers finding jobs is like finding a needle in a haystack. Forget newspaper delivery boys, they don't exist. Picking grapes usually happens when the kids are back at school. If they are under 17 year old, they will be highly unlikely to be even considered.
• Working for yourself is much more feasible. However.................you will pay a lot in social security payments and taxes. Much more than if you were employed. We are discovering that and feel shocked at how many cheques we write out each month to various social security departments.

Having said all that, many people arrive here and manage or get by.

At the end of the day you need to think about whether you'd be happy just managing and getting by. If not, then you may well need to find a job that makes life more comfortable.

I so admire a friend whom I met here, who spoke little French when she arrived but was determined to succeed. Within 6 months, she was speaking enough French to get by and had set up a market stall in Limoux selling coffee. Yes coffee to the French. No-one else in Limoux (population 10,000) sold fresh coffee. She had found a great niche.

Here's her website: Le Moulin Noir

Another retired English man whom I also met in the market sells imported curry sauces and spices. His best customers are some old French ladies.

And another English friend spent a couple of years learning French and is now a French teacher to the English and runs a B&B.

So where there's a will there's way.

Don't get anxious reading this if you are thinking of making the move here, but do get realistic and do get creative with your work ideas.

Also be prepared for the social security department to whip you hard earned profits out of your hands from time to time.

Well it's now back to work for me. I'm writing an eBook about kids party games...that's another income stream I hope.

Next Time: The French Bac. What do my kids think?!

Healthy in France

In my last post I mentioned that I was going into hospital to have an operation. Well I've had it and I've come out smiling!

Strangely enough the French health care system and bureaucracy is the thing that has frustrated us the most and yet my hospital experience and after care have been superb.

Whizzing back to February...... I took a tumble whilst skiing in the Pyrenees.

Some say it was due to the fact that it was snowing heavily and I failed to wear proper goggles and failed to stop at the big wall of snow that loomed in front of me.

I'd say it was because the breaks on the skis didn't work properly.

Anyway it ended up with a visit to the accident doctor, the x-ray department, the MRI scanning department, the pharmacy, the physio and then the knee specialist.

All of this was done in the space of a few weeks with no waiting and in spite of me not having my 'Carte Vitale' - the magic green card which says you belong here in France and are entitled to health care.

All the health professionals have been hyper helpful and hyper efficient. The only negative thing is the hyper amount of medicines the French doctors like to prescribe. They even prescribe paracetamol and plasters. You do sometimes wonder whether they have a vested interest in the drug companies. Who knows!

It's interesting though how the health system works here in France as compared to the UK and I'm sure they could both learn from each other.

In France doctors (think GP) appointments are not needed, you just turn up - never at lunch time though. Pharmacies are all privately owned and there is very little that is available in the supermarket apart from condoms, plasters and homeopathic medicines. District nurse practices are also privately run and owned. There is no such thing as a health visitor.

If you want to have your health care paid for by the state, then you must have a Carte Vitale (or a letter with your temporary social security number on it) and you must have a prescription to see various health professionals. So you can't just make an appointment with the district nurse without first getting an 'Ordonnance' (prescription) from the doctor.

It sounds complicated but like most things, once you've done it once, it all falls into place.

I must say though that I consider our family to be ultra, ultra healthy. We lived in Africa and Asia for 16 years and maybe visited the doctor once a year if he/she was lucky.

Here in France though, my goodness we practically live in the doctor's waiting room.

It's not because we are necessarily sicker than before but because there is less available without prescription and the kids must have a doctor's certificate for every club sport they participate in.

Douglas does tennis as an example and he can't enter a tournament unless his certificate says he is fit to play tennis AND to play in tennis tournaments. He couldn't play badminton though with that certificate.

I'm not slating the French health care system at all but think there may be a wee bit of room for improvement.....

So going back to my hospital stay.

I shared a room with an older lady who was not pleased to see me. She wanted the room all to herself. However when she realized that I was very polite, easy going, didn't snore and hardly spoke (could hardly understand a word she said because of the accent), then she seemed happier.

The nurses were efficient, friendly and all seemed to enjoy their jobs and I was chuffed when they felt my french was good enough to always speak and explain things to me in French.

The hospital food however I must say was a bit hmmmmm. Now I'm not fussy but I did detect that the soup was always the day's before leftovers mashed up and I NEVER got offered wine. I was so looking forward to that.

My older room mate was also not so impressed and i would laugh listening to her phone conversations (of which there were many) in that ten percent of the call was about her and ninety percent was about the 'Menu du Jour'.

So with Christmas just around the corner, I hope our visits to the doctor are over for the year. Well they'd better be as our doctor is away over the festive period and if you visit a doctor who is not your designated doctor, then all sorts of complications arrive.

PS....Drum Roll Please!.A celebratory drink is in order as I've just this morning received a letter which marks the final stage of the Carte Vitale process. It's been a long, yes very long process.

I'm to send a photo and some id and then I'll get my card. Now that will be a great Christmas treat. It's taken one full year to get to this stage and it's certainly worth celebrating.

And I think I might get sick just so as I can use my card....now how sick is that!

So on that note, I wish you all (or those one or two that read this blog) a very HAPPY CHRISTMAS and a HEALTHY NEW YEAR.

Next Time: How Do We earn a Living?

The Good Life...But Is It Really?

We've been here just over a year now and the two questions people ask us when they meet us for the first time are:

"Why did you choose Limoux"? followed closely by

"Well you've been here a year now so you must feel settled. Don't you"?

The first question is easy to answer. The second not so. It's like a year is the magic number. 'Live here a year then you'll be fine'.

We arrived here at the end of August 2008 and so 14 months down the line everyone wants us to say "Yes we are totally settled". But then when we actually say "Well things aren't exactly as we imagined....."

You can see some people are disappointed when we say that and you can see the look of pity and 'Oh dear' seeping from their silent thoughts. Others are secretly happy that we feel like they did at this point in time and are relieved to know that maybe it is OK to feel unsettled after a year.

Don't get me wrong, in that, I don't feel unhappy, or that we made the wrong decision or that French life is not what I thought it would be. It's more that settling into a new place, let alone a new country where the language is rather alien is a long and sometimes frustrating process.

We've lived in 6 different countries throughout Africa and Asia in the past 17 years so I know how long it takes to get settled. Moving to France though was the hardest!

I think it's because for the first time we are living in a house we own, we therefore have more bills to sort out, decorating to do, the garden to plant and look after, organizations to join and we are sort of the odd ones out.

Before we were one expatriate family amongst many, and there were lots of new faces arriving together so we all looked out for one another. Here you are a bit on your own at times and when you have difficulty making yourself understood, then the settling in takes on a whole new perspective.

On the ultra positive side though, the kids are 100% settled at school, we own our house and just love pottering and DIY'ing, we have neighbours that stay put and we can throw away all those boxes and packing paper that I have stored for 17 years in preparation for our next move.

We've got a whole new menu at dinner time, the dog is bilingual, our neighbours offer us honey from their bees or fruit from their garden and we never have to go on a waiting list to see a doctor - except for the optician who never seems to have a free slot.

Through this blog, I have heard from many people who have moved to France or are thinking of moving. Many have sent me messages and others I have met for coffee in Limoux town square and I have really enjoyed telling people how we are getting on and settling in. I really don't mind telling things as they really are and I think it gives a real perspective to other thinking of making the move.

Uprooting and moving away from what is familiar and comfortable to you is a huge undertaking. It is exciting but challenging and at times frightening and frustrating. However if you can get over the humps and bumps, and it is something that you really want to do, then life will eventually become easy and fun.

I have learned it may take a year, maybe even 2 or more. But that is OK.

Time to stop rambling and to get in the garden and take the dog for a walk through the vineyard. Maybe meet a neighbour on the way and have a chat about the weather (which is 28C and blue skied and sunny today :)) and then cook moules marinieres for dinner......ah the good life!

Next Time: I'm having a knee op next month. Do they really give enemas as the cure all for everything and will I get wine with hospital dinners?

La Rentree

Hey ho hey ho, it's back to school we go. Yes we have just experienced 'La Rentree'. We have experienced it before (many times) but La Rentree in France itself is different.

To you and me, La Rentree is the same as 'Back to School'. A very welcome day for parents and a day of excitement and nervousness for the kids.

However in France it seems like an opportunity for the shops and business's to tempt us shopping. As if the long summer holiday hadn't already cost us enough.

The amount of adverts and leaflets we have received saying 'It's La Rentree - why not buy a washing machine....invest in a new car....get 10% off your insurance' and so on.

What has that got to do with going back to school?

I suppose you may need a washing machine to wash piles of dirty school clothes and a car to get the kids there and back and then insurance for when your child accidently breaks a dinner plate.....there is obviously a logic in it somewhere.

Our 3 kids were pretty excited to go back - not that they would admit it.

School uniforms don't exist so Ellie meticulously planned her 'outfit' weeks beforehand. The boys just wore whatever was on the top of their clothes pile. That means they will probably wear the same 2 t-shirts and trousers all year. Wear one, Wash one. Saves us a lot of money!

They all go to different schools so getting them all out the door and onto various buses or scooters starts at 6am and finishes just before 8am. That's the least fun bit.

Then there are the school bags.

The kids are expected to carry their books for the day on their backs all day and that includes snack time, lunch time and every other time. Not such a problem.....except their bags regularly weight at least 8-10kg.

Lockers are provided in some schools but there are never enough. There are some girls though who somehow manage to carry just a handbag (much to Douglas's horror - he's 13) containing nothing but a pen and still manage to get through the lesson. We still haven't worked out what their secret is.

School days are long. For the younger ones it is usually 8am until 4.30pm but the day extends as you get older. Sam our eldest has lessons 8am - 6pm with an hour of travelling each way on top.

However there are no lessons Wednesday afternoon so that is the time to do 'activities' of which there are a huge choice here ranging from martial arts to music and dance to crafty things.

In order to participate in anything remotely active, you must have a medical certificate saying you are fit. What a palaver as parents are queuing up at the doctors or just asking the doctor over the phone to prepare them a certificate.

The boys are doing swimming this term and much to their horror we had to do a trip to the sports shop to get them some of those oh so tight and weeny swimming shorts. Then there is the swimming hat. They are not too happy.

So we are now 2 weeks into the new school year. The kids have new friends, our washing machine and car are being put to good use and so far nobody has broken a dinner plate.

Next Time......A year since our move. Was it the right decision?

The Big Hole is No More

Suddenly 6 weeks has gone and I realise that an update on what has been going on in Limoux and in our lives is well overdue.

However we have not been slacking and have been up to our eyeballs with mud, earth, sand, water and the constant digging and cementing of holes.

Basically the last 2 months have rather obsessively centered around the pool. We knew that we were getting ultra boring when the kids started to say "Can we not have just one day when we don't mention the word - POOL?!"

Well triumphantly I can now say that the 'big hole' that we created in June is now a shimmering oasis in our garden.

Yes our pool is finished......well sort of as there is still a lot to do.

But hey we can swim when the stifling heat of the South of France gets too much for us and that is what we wanted to achieve.

In 2 months we went from this.......


To this......

We only filled the pool a week ago and already the water is 28.5C (yes we are a bit obsessive). Wonderful!


So what else has been going on?

Well the kids finished school what seems like an eternity ago. Lessons officially finished at the end of the first week of July but there is a strange system here whereby once you have been given the go ahead to move up to the next school year in September, it means you can stop going to school for the rest of the term.

So our kids have been at home since the last week of June.

Being conscientious parents (and mean according to our kids) we did try and send them but the teachers huffed and puffed as it meant they had to supervise so homeward bound our kids came.

It has been nice having them all at home though as it has meant we have had helpers to build the pool and most importantly we haven't had to get up at 6am for the school bus. I am not looking forward to 'La Rentree' - beginning of term - but let's not talk about that now.

With the pool (well the swimmable bit) now ticked off the list, we have also been trying to tidy the garden (a never ending and thankless task right now), painting walls and doors, putting up light fittings, tidying the garage (another never ending and thankless task) and just feeling we are busy day in, day out.

We have also found time to browse in the weekly Limoux night markets (a fantastic and fascinating lurking opportunity), get immersed in the various music and theatrical events which take place in Limoux square and just enjoy the balmy hot evenings on our terrace listening to all the crickets and insects who seem to have taken shelter in our garden. Bliss!

We have also had a great time with Bill's brothers and families visiting and other friends popping in for overnight stays. We have just loved showing them around and introducing them to our new life here in Limoux. It is a strange but very proud feeling to be living in our own home after renting for the past 17 years.

Much as we would have liked to have hoards of visitors to stay we are not really set up at the moment for welcoming the masses. I think that is a way off unless we sell the kids to make bed space.

Bill's bijoux office has a sofa bed (for small people) so that has been getting some use and as for our idea of putting tents in the garden well that quickly evaporated when we saw how we get buffeted by the wind which is pretty fierce. Plus our garden, big as it may be, is rather a jungle right now with wild rabbits and snakes ready to welcome any newcomers.

So for now we are just enjoying the summer.

Bill has finished his stint in Nigeria and managing a bit of a holiday before his next assignment which he hopes will be desk based and the kids are making the most of their last few weeks before 'La Rentree'......

Next Time: La Rentree (Back to school).

Building with Lego

We've been in our house 5 and half months now and as summer is approaching we decided "Hey let's build a pool".

Actually it wasn't a decision taken lightly but the salesman (who like any salesman knew how to convince us) persuaded us it was just like building with Lego.

Having brought our kids up on Lego, we are pretty expert by now so naturally we thought it would be a breeze.

So we signed on the bottom line.

Before we knew it, there were what seemed like a million bits of Lego piled high in our garage and we were wondering where to start.

Well after a lot of dithering and dissecting of the Lego manual, we are now at the stage when we have destroyed the garden and filled it with a huge 8x6 meter hole. Well a nice man called Mr Fernandez did it for us.

Guess what? The hole immediately filled up with water. Instant swimming pool, yeah! Job done.

Actually not so yeah when it wouldn't go away and the only solution was to dig further and to put in a so called 'French drain'.

So using our kids as child labour yet again (well they are happy as it helps them earn their summer pocket money) we dug and shoveled and sweated and swore (quietly) until we had what we hope is the drain of all drains.

So far so good.

Next job was slotting together the panels, which look like the sides of a tin can. That is where the similarity ends though as they weigh a ton. The manual writer who said they needed 2 people to slot them together, had obviously not built a pool like this before.

Anyway suffice to say, the tin can is taking shape nicely. The steps are in (precariously balanced on bricks for now), everything is measured and double measured (and triple) to make sure it is all horizontal and vertical down to the last millimeter and we are feeling pretty chuffed with ourselves.

By my calculations, it has taken us 10 days of labour to get to this point. We had a break recently as Bill was in Nigeria (not on holiday!).

We also had a few workers strikes and slackers.....but who can blame them.

More to Follow.......when the workers strike is over.....

No Ordinary Day

Today I received a lovely surprise in the way of an email from Bill. It contained an attachment of his account of a not so ordinary day in Limoux. I have been on at him for ages to write something and so now here it is.....

Tuesday, May 11th 2009.

A day like any other. It is term-time; Nicole and I are both at home. I finished my last assignment at the end of April and am scouting around for new work.

I start the day at 0610. Its getting light now and I make Nicole a cup of tea (he's such a good hubby - ed), make sure Sam is awake and do 20 minutes of exercises – my back is killing me after overdoing the strimming at the weekend.
I take Sam to the school bus for 7am for his trip to Carcassonne and then finish getting up while Nicole drops off Ellie and Douglas at their schools. We've invested in a 'scooter' for the older kids (and, incredibly, for our youngest when he turns 14 next year) but both of them have had minor accidents, skidding on gravel, so we are back in full chauffeur mode.

So the first task of the day is to ride the scooter down to the Peugeot dealer in town. It's a bit of a come-down since my big biking days, but still there is something exciting about being back on two-wheels. The handlebar has to be replaced; apparently a common problem when these bikes are dropped on their side. It's going to cost 117 € but it seems worth having the job done professionally; there's not much room for error on two wheels.

And then we set off for Carcassonne – to reclaim our repaired iron from Darty (it packed up after a couple of months of use) and to do battle with the Caisse d'Allocations Familiales (child benefit office) over our child allowance. First stop, CAF. It seemed rather unusual that all our contact so far had been by telephone, email and post – so we wondered if going in person might help to unblock the payments. No need. After about 20 seconds of waiting we were talking with a conseiller in front of a computer screen who instantly found all our records and informed us that our payments were on their way, back dated to the beginning of the year when I started paying my cotisations. What a result. Of course the money will be useful (especially as I don't yet know when my next job will be), but another sign of our inclusion and integration into the French administration is also very welcome.

Darty (think Dixons ) also goes smoothly. The iron returned and repaired within a matter of weeks (about 3 actually). Meanwhile we get a call from Sam saying that he wants to come home because it is not worth staying at school until 4pm for only one physics lesson. It doesn't seem much of a school day: one English lesson in the morning (where he is more of a resource person than a student), two hours of French cancelled (the teacher has gone for training) and Physics in the afternoon. It seems to happen too often – but at least it is not as bad as the universities which have been on strike for three months. Anyway, we agree to pick him up and take him home, partly because we are in town anyway, partly because his studies are going well and he is serious about them (generally speaking!).

It turns out to be a good decision. Arriving back at the house we find four trees lying in front of the garage door. We bought them ten days ago, to do something about the wind that blows if not constantly certainly regularly up the hillside from west. But their livraison seemed to be difficult for Jardifort. After a week I phoned to ask when they would be delivered and talked with someone who confessed to be so completely débordé (overwhelmed) that he could hardly take time to answer the phone let alone organise a delivery. I tried again yesterday and talked to someone else who said that they just couldn't even suggest when they might be able to deliver. So we were going to go in to see them on the way back from Carcassonne to cancel the order and ask for a repayment… Now Sam can help Dad dig them in. But lunch first…

Lunch was interrupted by a call from Senegal. A former colleague managing programmes for Save the Children in West Africa is looking for someone to help with the strategic positioning of their programme in Nigeria, where there are lots of opportunities to do good work but also lots of choices to make and risks to manage. Sounds right up my street. I hope it works out, but yesterday I also had an interview (by telephone) with UNDP and the Ministry of Planning and Investment in Lao PDR for a three month participatory planning consultancy which would also be very exciting and would mean I could consolidate some work I did there last year. Anyway, it is nice to be in demand. It is my first time in all my working life not to be employed by someone else. It takes a bit of getting used to: the void and uncertainty of not having work lined up and confirmed even over the next few months.

Although I do find it easy to fill the void!

This afternoon it is planting trees. Two of them (a silver birch and an acacia) are nearly four metres already. Instant gardening.

Sam and I work hard; the ground is hard and stony. We have to improve the soil, we have to stake the trees and we have to water them in. I surprise myself how much I look forward to rainy days (or preferably nights) – the water buts are almost empty and mains water is expensive. The gardening goes on into the evening, interrupted by supper and taking Sam to and then from the Aikido club. I hope that scooter comes back soon.

It is 9.30 pm and just light enough to take the dog for a walk around the fields and through the vines without a torch. She chases after the rabbits without success but with a lot of enthusiasm. By 10 o'clock everyone is ready for bed. It has been a busy day. Tomorrow will also be busy – but different. We have to draw the dimensions for the hole that the terrassier must dig for us to install the swimming pool. It's a big job – every time we read the manual we understand a bit more about the challenge ahead.

There are no ordinary days.

Bill

Healthy Reading

Having rarely visited the doctor since our time of living in Africa and Asia over the past 16 years, since living in France we are certainly making up for it.

When we were working in developing countries, our family rule was that we and the kids were "not allowed" to get sick. If we were, then out would come the self diagnosis books (think DIY healthy reading) and drug manuals and off we would go to the pharmacy if necessary. It is not as scary as it sounds as I 'used' to be a nurse and besides it was at times difficult to find the right doctor or the services that we needed.

Anyway roll the years forward to France and in our 8 short months here we have visited : various doctors, X-ray clinics, blood laboratory, specialists, physiotherapists, hospitals, pharmacies.....

I am ashamed to say that most of them are for me - the strong one in the family who is "never" sick. That does still hold true as most of it was for a skiing accident so I do feel that I am still holding my healthy record.

You know what they say about women in their 40's who hit the ski slopes during half term having not skied for years and who then cause mayhem on the piste? ....Yep that was me.

I was the one in the light blue jacket and purple hat who was rolly pollying past you at 100 kms an hour. OK 10km then.

However thinking about our health experiences here, we have been both delighted and frustrated. The delight comes in the efficiency of the health professionals and the health services and we have nothing but good things to say about them all.

Imagine going to visit your local doctor, being seen straight away (and with no appointment), getting a prescription for an x-ray and having that done straight away in the clinic up the road, receiving and having the results explained to you immediately, making an appointment with the specialist and being seen the next week at the time allocated (actually 2 minutes earlier) and then being offered surgery (if I want it!) for the following month. And so it goes on.

No waiting, excellent service and 10 out of 10 all round....except for the radiographer who made me have more x-rays than were prescribed and then charged me (a lot) for the pleasure.

Oh and the other interesting experience (again with the radiographer), was being sent into a cupboard with a man and being told to take all our clothes off (knickers allowed) and to stand there feeling naked and vulnerable until it was 'our turn'. Thankfully the other man was my husband otherwise it could have been interesting.

What I find interesting here in France is how the health professionals seem to work very much on their own in a private practice but who are reimbursed by the state. The local doctor is often a one-man band who answers the phone, sees the patients, does all the paperwork and who cleans up at the end of the day. It explains why it is near impossible to make an appointment over the phone - there's no one to answer it.

The same goes with the local physiotherapists and nurses who seem to be dotted everywhere. Just in our small town of Limoux which has a population of 10,000, we have 22 general doctors, 18 physiotherapists, 11 district nurses, 7 pharmacies, 7 ambulance taxis, 2 x-ray clinics, 1 laboratory plus more.

Are we a sick town or maybe the French just like to keep healthy?

So as you can see we are more than happy with the French health services but if we were to talk about French health care bureaucracy, well maybe a grumble or two is in order. Fill in this, fill out that, send it here, send it there.....and still we are only advancing one incy wincy step at a time.

Basically all we want is to be "IN" the French health care system. We are paying for it (heftily) and our sole aim right now is to get that 'Little Green Card'. The very coveted green card that says you are "IN".

The other day we made what we thought was a big advance when we received 'The Paper'. The magic paper with a big long number on it which is apparently the step before the card. Clap hands everyone.

However quite a few health professionals seem to turn their nose up at it and we get get the "Gives us the card or give us the money" treatment.

So as the money is being handed over left right and center I am beginning to wonder whether I should just go back to my DIY medical books.

In the meantime, other important things are beginning to sprout, such as the garden which has just gone wild. Bill is around for a few more weeks before he rushes off on an assignment so he is busy cutting, trimming, planting and watering. I get the grotty bits like weeding.

It all looks fabulous though and it's like discovering treasure each time something else appears.


Next Time: Working or Gardening - I can't decide. How about 'Working in the Garden' then?

Teenagers in France !

Moving to France with 3 teenagers and a dog in tow was not a decision made lightly.

Mind you we were several steps ahead of many families making the hop across the channel as our 3 kids have been in the French school system since the age of 3 and they already speak French.

For our kids the biggest adjustment we felt they were going to have to adapt to, was living a more 'normal/different' life than what they were used to.

Having lived in Asia and Africa all their lives they were used to warm climates, outdoor living, a lot more freedom in their social lives and dare I say it but a housekeeper who cooked, cleaned and ironed (I miss that too!).

Parties, sleepovers galore, cheap shopping, beach holidays and eating out were all 'normal' life then. The latest fashions were not a big issue, TV was not really thought about, getting out and about in taxis was cheap as chips and kids were out and about doing things in groups on a regular basis whether it was sport or just meeting at someone's house.

And here we were, about to drag them from the bright lights of city living to the country glow of small town France.

Our kids are 13 and 17 (boys) and 15 (girl) so as you can imagine our house at times is high on hormones and hysteria (theirs and mine). But on the whole they are balanced, healthy and cooperative teenagers - did I really just say that?

We purposely chose not to live in rural France, no matter how tempting the estate agents blurb of a "Fully renovated rural French farmhouse with 2 acres of land with a stream and no neighbours" for half our budget was. Teenagers and 'The Good Life' don't always mix. We also chose to ignore the city apartment (us parents needed a veggie patch) and the cute village house looking onto the square (although I am not sure why).

Instead we went for the small town of Limoux in the Aude.

Limoux is a town of 10,000 inhabitants, has a Lycee and college, train station, cinema, restaurants and biggish shops and is only 25kms from the bright city lights of Carcassonne. And it's under 2 hours from the ski resorts and the sea. A perfect compromise.

So how well are they integrating then?

Having being used to socialising with kids of all nationalities and backgrounds, languages and experiences, they have suddenly found themselves 'the odd ones out'. Some treat them as novelties, others ignore them because they are novelties and others have been genuinely kind and interested.

In a way it has been harder for their peers to accept them than the other way round. Our hats are off to our brave bunch of three though as they have each found themselves a great circle of friends - even if we haven't met most of them as they live in a small hamlet in the middle of nowhere.

As for things for the kids to do, we have been pleasantly surprised at how much organised activity there is.

The French love their clubs or associations as they like to call them. The boys have launched themselves into tennis, Aikido and guitar and Ellie does theater and dance. There are clubs galore ranging from canoeing and belly dancing to singing and knitting (I know what the boys would say). Then there are the outings organised by the schools such as ski trips, theatres and spectacles.

The weekends are more of a challenge though as we have found that French teenagers here don't really 'hang out' and much more is done 'en famille' (as a family).

Sleepovers are pretty rare if at all, birthday parties are unusual and meeting up at the weekend for a film and a pizza are just too expensive for many. Also many of their friends live in other towns and villages and with the lack of a local bus system it makes getting from hamlet to hamlet a challenge unless they can persuade their mum or dad with breakfast in bed (hint) to drive them.

One thing we love though is the respect that teenagers show towards each other. Imagine arriving at school in the UK and kissing all your friends hello or shaking hands? Well here it is normal.

We are also relieved to see that fashion 'must haves' are not really a big thing here and that kids love eating school dinners. Interestingly many English kids don't like the school dinners....Jamie Oliver what have you taught them?

Smoking however is a big issue. Getting through the front door of the Lycee at 8am involves a mad dash through a black haze of fumes - and that's just from the students.

Were we concerned about the move to Limoux? YES.

And 6 months on has it gone OK? Surprisingly YES.

We as parents are getting used to having the kids around the house a lot more, having to see (and try and ignore) bedrooms that resemble a boot sale in mayhem, working as a chauffeur and not getting paid (not even with breakfast in bed) and forking out for all those clubs to join.

As for the kids - well they seem to be doing just fine. They have their mobile phones, their computers and hotmail (to keep in touch with old friends), a nice group of new friends plus the odd club to go to, so what more do they want.


As I write this the wind is howling round the door, the blue skies peep every now and then from behind the grey wall of clouds and when Spring comes, I am sure that I will have other things to add to what our 3 teens are up to.....and I hope one of them is breakfast in bed.

Next Time: How we are coping with the health care system.....I snapped a knee ligament whilst skiing.

New Year...New House...New Resolutions

Happy New Year 2009.
December 23rd 2008 was such an exciting day for us - we finally got the keys to our new 'home'.

Needless to say we are just like kids with a new toy. Bill and I continually find ourselves stopping in mid activity to say "We own this house"!

Although we have owned a house in the UK for the past 16 years it was never really 'home' as we didn't live in it - we lived in rented houses/apartments overseas in Asia and West Africa so this to us is very special.

Getting the keys was fun.

We, our estate agent and the vendors met up in the ever important notaires chambers and it was like walking back in time 100 years.

Imagine entering into an oak wood panelled room, faced with walls lined with files dating back to the early 19th century and succumbing to their faintly musty smell. Then sitting in ornate and delicately carved high backed wooden chairs in front of a huge leather topped solid wood partner desk whilst the notaire read out paper upon paper of house deeds and details which were all about us and our new home.

45 minutes later it was all done and we walked out into the sunshine with a big bunch of keys and a huge smile on our faces.

We were now home owners in the sunny South of France.

Sunny did I say?


The last time that snow settled in Limoux was in 1992. However that all changed on the day we decided to move house - Boxing day 2008.

"Yippee" said the kids, "What's this then" said the dog, "*#*@*!*" said the parents.

Our enormous hired Super U van did us proud as it slipped and slid its way up and down hills and slopes and into potholes and dips.

The award of the day though went to Bill who drove it in the most terrifying conditions.

We probably should have abandoned the move that day but you know when you have your heart set on doing something......

Andy and Erica, Bills parents were also with us during the move and we are extremely grateful to their dedicated lugging of bits and bobs and boxes - the quicker they did it the more cups of tea and Christmas cake they received.

We did hear the neighbours whispering something about 'parent labour'...

Three weeks have passed now and although we have unpacked what seems like mountains of boxes we seem to still have several more mountains to go. I do keep asking myself why on earth have we got so much "stuff" and it just goes from box to box to cupboard to shelf and back to box again, until I decide where to put it.

Bill would probably have a good solution.....needless to say I have hidden the bin bags.

As for the kids and Lily the dog, well they too have settled in brilliantly. They each have their own rooms (Lily has a corner) which I have promised not to interfere in (hard, so hard) and they now feel they can invite friends over. Trouble is if they do they are usually asked to carry boxes up and down to the garage and I think they might be expecting payment soon so we might be had up for 'child labour' too.

So the new year started with a new house and now I just need to think of my new year resolutions. I might start with "I must finish unpacking the boxes by Christmas" and "Give more of our 'stuff' to charity".



Next Time: Douglas has just turned 13 so we now have a household of 3 teenagers. What's it like living with teenagers in France?