Chapter 4 - The Drive

The drive down to Portsmouth was fairly uneventful and we managed to stay together fairly well, although believe me keeping together in a convoy is not that easy, particularly with a van which was probably over-laden and moved at snail’s pace. If you are ever considering a venture like this, dear reader, I would suggest you have alternative methods of communication such as mobile phones etc and a Plan B if you get separated. In a future chapter I will be telling you about someone who didn’t follow these simple rules and found themselves stranded in central France.

Anyway, I digress. We checked in good time for our ferry with the fairly basic but cheap LD Lines www.ldlines.com and after a quick drink head off completely exhausted, for our respective cabins. The boys had the dubious pleasure of sharing and my daughter and I shared the other cabin.
Actually, the cabins were fairly comfortable and came complete with shower and loo. Unfortunately, because the ferry left late but arrived on time our sleep time was curtailed somewhat and we disembarked just a bit tired and snappy, particularly as I managed to lose David in the onslaught which resulted in a bit of a ‘domestic’. I also had a minor panic when I thought my passport had gone missing but it was found eventually.

We had the use of Malcolm’s TomTom GPS which we had in the front car and I have to say a GPS was one of the first things I invested in when we’d settled here – they are absolutely invaluable and I couldn’t be without it now. The only problem with the one we were using on the way down to our new home was the fact that we didn’t believe it. Lesson 1 listen to your GPS if you want to take the shortest route. We ended up taking an A road instead of a newly opened bit of motorway which would have reduced our journey time by at least an hour – DOH!

Chapter 3 - Moving Day

So moving day arrived and David and Malcolm collected the van. All of a sudden it seemed tiny and our house and all its contents seemed enormous. They slaved all day to pack the van in the most scientific method possible. Malcolm proved that he was an expert in fitting everything together like a favourite jigsaw. Trouble was, it didn’t seem to be diminishing at all and it was already lunchtime. Malcolm was under strict haulage laws and was obliged to have regular stops as he would have been contravening all kinds of regulations. I was beginning to panic quietly.

Eventually, my daughter and my son-in-law arrived and the pace began to hot up. We had a deadline of 6pm to depart for the port and we finally left just 15 minutes late and well within tolerance of our proposed arrival time. My daughter and I took up the front spot as we had Malcolm’s GPS system in my Peugeot. Malcolm in the van followed us and David brought up the rear in the ancient Volvo – both cars packed to the gunwales. We made a kind of van sandwich as we made steady progress towards Portsmouth and our ferry. We all had walkie talkie receivers and were able to keep in contact with one another along the route.

Chapter 2

David’s brother in Wales, had broken his foot and had to back out. David’s brother in Bournemouth, had to back out too at the last minute because of pressure of work. So there we were with Malcolm the driver and David and me. Now for those who don't know me should understand that I’m fine at the cerebral stuff but give me something to lift or manoeuvre and I’m a lost cause, so I was going to be about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

After a frantic phone call to my ever faithful daughter and son-in-law, they promised that in spite of huge work and university commitments they would pull out the stops and come with us. I have never been so grateful in all my life and it also meant that I would get a chance to show them a taste of our proposed new life.

Chapter 1 - How the story began

I’m not sure whose idea this was but I’m blaming David. I have always wanted to live in France but generally it was never more than a pipe-dream or one of those ‘if I won the lottery’ thoughts.

But there we were preparing for our first French Christmas and I was feeling as if I was in a bit of a dream world. We were still trying to get things straight in our little French 'fermette' but it was taking time and it was as if we're trying to squeeze a quart into a pint pot as the saying goes. Nevertheless, we were getting there.

It had been an eventful journey beginning with the fact that we hated our first destination. We’d carefully packed all our belongings into boxes and crates and had enlisted the help of a superb chap called Malcolm who David knew from work. We hired a 7.5 ton truck and had two of David’s brothers on a promise to come as well. And that’s when the problems started …