I’m about to become an expert on 17th century houses and the art of traditional basket weaving. Handy – if polite dinner conversation falters. Achievable, if I wasn’t approaching retirement with lean superannuation savings and only a paltry sum in the bank account. And perhaps realistic for one who is energetic and didn’t live as far away from France as possible – unless they were a King penguin. Then there is motion sickness, a fear of flying and a lack of French language skills to further complicate the issue. My partner patiently refers to my current state of affairs as my mid-life crisis. Family members bluntly call it menopausal madness. Despite being very cautious by nature, I recently paid a deposit on a house in France prior to inspecting it! Perhaps it’s time for some French lessons?
|Photo: courtesy of the real estate agent|