Read Online Our House is Not in Paris by Susan Cutsforth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Cutsforth
Tags: Travel writing, Memoir
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kitchen doors. Or, on several summer Saturday afternoons, the clip-clopping of a horse-drawn carriage carrying a bride on her way to the village church. Then there was the jaw-dropping moment of disbelief when a tractor with a bucket containing two men just appeared to attach a string of flags to the gable on our house to signal the forthcoming village brocante . No words were exchanged at all and, while we were bitterly disappointed to miss our very own village brocante , we felt happy that in some small way we were a part of it.
There are already so many things that we now love about our house in such a short time. The beautiful, wide, old walnut floorboards that dip with age and the wear of thousands of steps trodden upon them. The fact that, as Jean-Claude, the bearer of many stories, told us, apparently Madame la Croix had stuffed old pieces of bread in the gaps to ward off the icy winter draughts. More modern evidence of a season we would never know is the newspaper jammed into the skirting boards and the sides of the stairs. The rounded steps as you enter our little house are a unique feature, as is the carved piece of curved stone over the door, bearing the date 1884, encased in a small stone-carved heart. The huge fire-blackened beams tell the story of generations of meals and a very faint hint of smoke still lingers in the air. There are few remnants of the garden but our dining table is now placed to look out over the trees in it. The humble old farmhouse resonates with a palpable warmth that many, far grander houses will never hold.
Our âSecretâ Life
Another year had slipped through our fingers. While we longed to return, we were also mindful of not wishing our lives away in the intervening months and embracing all that was wonderful about living next to the ocean in our little village on the coast. With just four weeks to go before we left on our next trip, we found ourselves in yet another surreal situation of virtually buying a car over the internet â well, through a flurried exchange of emails. As good luck would have it yet again, in a way that seems too good to be true, Jean-Claudeâs friends were selling their Renault Scenic and wanted a decision by the weekend. Stuart had seen it briefly one evening just before a concert in a nearby village that he went to with Jean-Claude â so briefly, in fact, that he didnât even have a chance to drive it and it was virtually dark. It was just a fleeting glance. Iâd not even seen it all. After hiring a car for the past two years, it definitely made more sense to buy a car that we would drive every year. The barn has a tiny stone garage so we would be able to tuck it away safely.
After just a short time deliberating, we erred on the side of convenience. While we love looking at houses, buying cars is not our thing at all. We have very little knowledge about the mechanics of cars and I was also dreading the thought of starting our holiday traipsing around car dealers. This decision would save valuable time, as it meant that, rather than the week we had allocated ourselves to searching for a car, we could actually relax for a few days after arriving and get a head start on installing the IKEA cuisine . It also meant not as much pressure to buy a car, with the clock ticking on the car we had planned to hire for just a week as we looked for a car to buy.
The night we received the email asking for our imminent decision about the car, there was also the first email in weeks from Piscine Ambiance. It simply stated that the concrete had been poured in the pool and politely requested the next payment. More cheques to be sent off to France to pay for our other life. It had become a life that I rarely discussed, for we seemed to be living a life far removed from everyday reality.
Having our little house added so much pleasure to our life at home as well. We spent countless hours talking about when we were there, what we did and who we met. Then
There are already so many things that we now love about our house in such a short time. The beautiful, wide, old walnut floorboards that dip with age and the wear of thousands of steps trodden upon them. The fact that, as Jean-Claude, the bearer of many stories, told us, apparently Madame la Croix had stuffed old pieces of bread in the gaps to ward off the icy winter draughts. More modern evidence of a season we would never know is the newspaper jammed into the skirting boards and the sides of the stairs. The rounded steps as you enter our little house are a unique feature, as is the carved piece of curved stone over the door, bearing the date 1884, encased in a small stone-carved heart. The huge fire-blackened beams tell the story of generations of meals and a very faint hint of smoke still lingers in the air. There are few remnants of the garden but our dining table is now placed to look out over the trees in it. The humble old farmhouse resonates with a palpable warmth that many, far grander houses will never hold.
Our âSecretâ Life
Another year had slipped through our fingers. While we longed to return, we were also mindful of not wishing our lives away in the intervening months and embracing all that was wonderful about living next to the ocean in our little village on the coast. With just four weeks to go before we left on our next trip, we found ourselves in yet another surreal situation of virtually buying a car over the internet â well, through a flurried exchange of emails. As good luck would have it yet again, in a way that seems too good to be true, Jean-Claudeâs friends were selling their Renault Scenic and wanted a decision by the weekend. Stuart had seen it briefly one evening just before a concert in a nearby village that he went to with Jean-Claude â so briefly, in fact, that he didnât even have a chance to drive it and it was virtually dark. It was just a fleeting glance. Iâd not even seen it all. After hiring a car for the past two years, it definitely made more sense to buy a car that we would drive every year. The barn has a tiny stone garage so we would be able to tuck it away safely.
After just a short time deliberating, we erred on the side of convenience. While we love looking at houses, buying cars is not our thing at all. We have very little knowledge about the mechanics of cars and I was also dreading the thought of starting our holiday traipsing around car dealers. This decision would save valuable time, as it meant that, rather than the week we had allocated ourselves to searching for a car, we could actually relax for a few days after arriving and get a head start on installing the IKEA cuisine . It also meant not as much pressure to buy a car, with the clock ticking on the car we had planned to hire for just a week as we looked for a car to buy.
The night we received the email asking for our imminent decision about the car, there was also the first email in weeks from Piscine Ambiance. It simply stated that the concrete had been poured in the pool and politely requested the next payment. More cheques to be sent off to France to pay for our other life. It had become a life that I rarely discussed, for we seemed to be living a life far removed from everyday reality.
Having our little house added so much pleasure to our life at home as well. We spent countless hours talking about when we were there, what we did and who we met. Then
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