Well, the heat is stifling, the streams running off the hills around my house have become muddy trickles, siestas are getting more drawn out and my longing for warmth when shivering in the Vendée in March seems like part of a perverse previous existence on another planet far, far away. And I haven't even left England for the new life in France thing yet.
Not a great deal to report this week, really. We've got about 60 days left, and I'm starting to think that I should have done, and be doing, far more than I am, because at the moment my research is diligent in terms of the hours I spend on it, but not particularly structured. As with everything, I tend to flit between things that interest me rather than focusing on one subject, dull or otherwise, getting to grips with it and then moving on to the next thing on the list. But it really is only research that's outstanding since, as previously reported, 90% of our stuff is in a barn at the farmhouse, so perhaps things aren't so bad.
I'm also fearing that I'll be overtaken by a feeling of being utterly overwhelmed when we wake up on our first morning as French residents. I mean, where do you start? There is so much that we need to do that simply can't be done before we get to France. Taking bite-sized chunks out of the Jupiter-sized whole, washed down with regular glugs of wine, sounds like the way forward, but it would be interesting to find out how others experienced their 'first day'.
My language learning seems to be progressing (waiting for some Michel Thomas CDs to arrive courtesy of the Daily Express), matters relating to tax, health, property etc etc seem to be gradually sinking in and making sense, and I've now accepted that we shall be spending the rest of our days in utter penury, working every hour God sends in chambre/table d'hote servitude to inconsiderate Americans and, even worse apparently, the dreaded Belgians, only to give everything away to Jean-Pierre the Taxman and crippling cotisations. But never mind, the quality of life is so much better, that's what they always say - but who are 'they'? People who go through life avoiding holidaying Belgians? Masochists? Alcoholics, for whom the price of a bottle of vin de table represents a fuzzy nirvana? Lovers of tasteless pinafores? I can't wait.
A bientot, Mark (lying in a pool of cheap red wine in my favourite floral print pinny, in baking Gloucestershire)
x
This week, I've fallen back down to Earth with a bump. This week, all thoughts of swooping swallows, rolling hills and Derek the buzzard have been consigned, albeit temporarily, to the dustbin of 'Escape To The Sun' whimsy. This week, I've been finding out about forms. This week, I've encountered more e-numbers, E101, E104, E106, E121, E205 E305 et al, than a group of children on a school trip to a Sunny Delight factory, but finally, by jove, I think I've got it.
The whole process was, in hindsight, made more complex than perhaps it might have been by me taking advice from Helena Frith-Powell. That's not to say that the advice was poor, merely inappropriate to me personally. In her book 'More French Please, We're British', HFP recommends bombarding the DWP in Newcastle with requests for as many forms as you can lay your hands on. I therefore spent the early part of the week doing so, only to be met with confusion on the part of the long-suffering DWP staff, who failed to see the relevance in me applying for an E121 30+ years early. I could have argued that there's nothing wrong with thinking ahead, especially when planning an emigration, but I fear the lilting Geordie tones on the other end of the phone may have morphed into something altogether more menacing.
Time to reassess.
Having thought this through, and perceived a slight disparity in lifestyles and concomitant costs of living between HFP's and my own, I can only assume that several of the E forms she applied for related to swimming pool, au pair and hand maiden allowances, and as such could safely be crossed off my wish list, or at least my realism list.
So finally, and with the usual hand-holding from the usual saintly suspects on the Living France forum, I distilled my requirement down to ONE form, or more precisely a form to apply for a certificate, namely CA3916, to acquire E104. The wording of the form suggests that I'll have to wait for my final pay slip before applying, so I'm assuming I'll end up filling it out in France and posting it back, before getting the much-prized certificate posted back to me, but it's progress, nonetheless.
So, one week, one form. My manipulation of this Kafkaesque living-nightmare is going to have to get both more efficient and more Machiavellian before I take on the assumed masters, French public servants, although I fear I may be fighting a losing battle there.
Another research strand this week: website creation and Internet marketing. Once again, thanks to detailed advice from the LF forum community, I feel relatively well-armed with tips on the best routes to take in building an effective marketing tool for each of our proposed businesses online. And once again, I'm relieved to be doing all of this now, well ahead of our nominal dates of registration with the C de C and/or C de M. When we finally buy our Pyrénéan retreat, I'll probably do something dopey like build an extension without getting planning permission*, but, for the moment, careful and timely preparation is proving to be a source of constant reassurance.
Perhaps now I'll allow myself a weekend break, returning to more whimsical research relating to pain, vin et campagne, before a fresh assault on something hideously convoluted next Monday morning - verb conjugation perhaps.
Allez les bleus!
A bientot x
*just kidding!