LIFE IN THE LANGUEDOC - GETTING TO GRIPS WITH THE GARDEN
If you own a French property - and particularly one with some outside space - the chances are you will be familiar with your local DIY store. When we moved to our first French home (an old stone-built village house in the Minervois wine making area of the Aude département, in the Languedoc) we thought we'd be sitting pretty, as we were only renting. If anything needed doing, we presumed the landlord would sort it out, but no. In the two months we lived in the house, we must have been to our local Mr. Bricolage store at least six times (bricolage is French for Do It Yourself). Insulating tape, screws, nails, hooks, replacement light bulbs, plungers to unblock the sink and toilet, you name it, we bought it. The problem was we were renting a very old and sorely under-maintained holiday home, so things went wrong (or just broke, because they were so old) on a regular basis. And the landlord wasn't very interested in coming round to sort out the problems, either ("Do It Yourselves" was his stock answer when we telephoned him).
When the autumn storms came and the roof leaked in five places, including over my computer and our two year-old son's bed, we upped sticks and moved to a newer, 1980's built villa with all mod cons (well, central heating, anyway). Oh, and a very big garden. We were so excited about both. After living in a huge, damp, old house with thick stone walls and no heating whatsoever, having radiators was a total delight. After living in a maison de village with no outside space at all, having a garden seemed amazing, but in fact, it turned out to be a pain in the neck. There were vast areas covered in towering weeds, and according to our rental contract, we had to keep it all in good order. No lawnmower would roll over the patchy, uneven ground, and doing it by hand with shears was back-breaking, so off we went to Mr. Brico again and bought a scary looking, heavy-duty débroussailleuse. My dictionary calls this a strimmer, but frankly that doesn't do it justice - it was huge, expensive, and weighed a ton. It would have taken your leg off if you didn't strap it on properly. Our next door neighbours watched with eyes as big as saucers as I wrestled the wretched thing around the garden, grunting, sweating and swearing with the effort.
Then off course we had to buy a rake to collect up all the cut grass, a compost bin to stuff it in, some grass seed to sew over the bald patches, a spade to dig a vegetable patch, some pea seeds to plant, some pea sticks for the plants to grow up, umpteen metres of netting to wrap around the plants to keep the birds from eating the peas... I tell you, the woman on the check out desk at Mr. Brico used to beam at us when we walked in. If we weren't her best customers, we were certainly the most frequent. The irony of this tale is that after we'd invested in a very expensive, solid teak garden table plus chairs, parasol, and all the other paraphernalia that goes with having a garden, we came to the conclusion that that we were city folk at heart. We yearned to dwell in the centre of town, where gardens are like gold dust and command a hefty premium. We couldn't afford a house with outside space, so now we live in a large apartment and spend lots of time at the beach, in the countryside or at the local park. It's not the same as having a garden, but it's certainly cheaper and less hard work.
Garden or no garden, owning - or even renting - a French home will inevitably mean regular trips to your local DIY store. My biggest fear was never knowing the right word for what I needed (Philips screwdriver, plasterboard screws, replacement ball cock, whatever) and having to play 20 Questions with the long-suffering shop assistant ("it's made of metal, or sometimes plastic, it's about this long, it's straight but with a bit at the end that hooks round like this, you use it in the kitchen..."). I bought a decent dictionary (the Collins Robert fatty, £29.99, if anyone's interested) but when I can't find the right word (or just don't know what I need in the first place), I go online. My favourite site is www.leroymerlin.fr. It's bright, professional and very informative. It's divided into four areas (advice, ideas, books and products) and contains a wealth of information (the advice section gives pointers on how tools work and what they are used for - perfect for a novice like me). Then there's www.bricomarche.fr. More advice and helpful hints, lots of info about keeping animals, and a section where you can buy and sell tools. Handy for flogging that débroussailleuse that I don't need anymore. Straight to the point is www.castorama.fr, where diagrams and dossiers will resolve your DIY dilemmas, and finally there's my old friend www.mr-bricolage.fr, with its interior and garden design tips. Sometime I just browse here for fun, and dream about when we had a garden.
When the autumn storms came and the roof leaked in five places, including over my computer and our two year-old son's bed, we upped sticks and moved to a newer, 1980's built villa with all mod cons (well, central heating, anyway). Oh, and a very big garden. We were so excited about both. After living in a huge, damp, old house with thick stone walls and no heating whatsoever, having radiators was a total delight. After living in a maison de village with no outside space at all, having a garden seemed amazing, but in fact, it turned out to be a pain in the neck. There were vast areas covered in towering weeds, and according to our rental contract, we had to keep it all in good order. No lawnmower would roll over the patchy, uneven ground, and doing it by hand with shears was back-breaking, so off we went to Mr. Brico again and bought a scary looking, heavy-duty débroussailleuse. My dictionary calls this a strimmer, but frankly that doesn't do it justice - it was huge, expensive, and weighed a ton. It would have taken your leg off if you didn't strap it on properly. Our next door neighbours watched with eyes as big as saucers as I wrestled the wretched thing around the garden, grunting, sweating and swearing with the effort.
Then off course we had to buy a rake to collect up all the cut grass, a compost bin to stuff it in, some grass seed to sew over the bald patches, a spade to dig a vegetable patch, some pea seeds to plant, some pea sticks for the plants to grow up, umpteen metres of netting to wrap around the plants to keep the birds from eating the peas... I tell you, the woman on the check out desk at Mr. Brico used to beam at us when we walked in. If we weren't her best customers, we were certainly the most frequent. The irony of this tale is that after we'd invested in a very expensive, solid teak garden table plus chairs, parasol, and all the other paraphernalia that goes with having a garden, we came to the conclusion that that we were city folk at heart. We yearned to dwell in the centre of town, where gardens are like gold dust and command a hefty premium. We couldn't afford a house with outside space, so now we live in a large apartment and spend lots of time at the beach, in the countryside or at the local park. It's not the same as having a garden, but it's certainly cheaper and less hard work.
Garden or no garden, owning - or even renting - a French home will inevitably mean regular trips to your local DIY store. My biggest fear was never knowing the right word for what I needed (Philips screwdriver, plasterboard screws, replacement ball cock, whatever) and having to play 20 Questions with the long-suffering shop assistant ("it's made of metal, or sometimes plastic, it's about this long, it's straight but with a bit at the end that hooks round like this, you use it in the kitchen..."). I bought a decent dictionary (the Collins Robert fatty, £29.99, if anyone's interested) but when I can't find the right word (or just don't know what I need in the first place), I go online. My favourite site is www.leroymerlin.fr. It's bright, professional and very informative. It's divided into four areas (advice, ideas, books and products) and contains a wealth of information (the advice section gives pointers on how tools work and what they are used for - perfect for a novice like me). Then there's www.bricomarche.fr. More advice and helpful hints, lots of info about keeping animals, and a section where you can buy and sell tools. Handy for flogging that débroussailleuse that I don't need anymore. Straight to the point is www.castorama.fr, where diagrams and dossiers will resolve your DIY dilemmas, and finally there's my old friend www.mr-bricolage.fr, with its interior and garden design tips. Sometime I just browse here for fun, and dream about when we had a garden.
About the Author
Louise has lived in France, in the city of Montpellier in the Languedoc-Roussillon for the past 5 years.
Louise writes for a number of French life magazines and was asked to write a number of articles on life and experiences in France by French real estate agents Vibo Immobilier (http://www.viboimmobilier.com), based in the wine village of Fitou.
Author: Louise Hurren
