There's something in the woodshed....

Does anybody remember the song ‘Something for the weekend’ by Divine Comedy? The lyrics begin “She said, there’s something in the woodshed, and I can hear it breathing, it’s such an eerie feeling darling”. I hadn’t thought about it for years and years but now I think about it often, because we now have a woodshed, and there’s definitely something in there. I can’t actually hear anything breathing (apart from me!) but there are some strange scuttling noises whenever I approach.

Just part of the joy of living in the country I suppose – and one of many things that didn’t cross my mind when we fell in love with this house. Being a committed ‘townie’ I had rather an idealistic idea about what living in the country entailed and imagined that I would be spending my days sitting on the terrace with a slice of home-grown lemon in my gin and tonic, admiring the panoramic views across the vineyard and enjoying the peace and quiet of life. OK yes, that does happen (a lot!) but there is a price to pay. For example, we have a small orchard which had been well-tended by the previous owner so last year enjoyed olives, figs, peaches, apples, pears, clementines, apricots and lemons but this year we have had to prune, thin and treat the trees ourselves and will no longer wonder why fruit is so expensive in the supermarkets. Actually, what am I complaining about – it’s all worth it for the sheer joy of biting into a freshly picked peach, still warm from the sun.

We also have what I consider to be better than having our own vineyard – at the bottom of our garden a gate leads into somebody else’s vineyard so we can walk around it and take pleasure in watching the grapes grow without any of the hard work. I suppose I can forgive the farmer for occasionally turning up in his tractor at 5am to do whatever he has to do before the heat of the day kicks in!

The isolation is wonderful – we are on the outskirts of a small village so have neighbours within walking distance but cannot see or hear them. It does mean that I have to plan well ahead and if I have run out of sugar or coffee there is no longer the opportunity to nip out to the shops – the village is a 10 minute walk away and the few shops that there are have such strange opening hours that the chances of me finding one open when I need one is remote. But, strolling down a country lane rather than jumping into the car to go to the Co-op is so much more interesting that I end up not caring whether I get my coffee or not.

The one thing I am having the most difficulty with is the wildlife. I like most of it – particularly the red squirrels and rabbits; the frogs still make me jump (no pun intended) but as long as they stay in their own pond and out of my pool they are ok; and I am still undecided about the lizards. Small lizards running across the terrace are fine but I am not sure about the gecko that seems to live in the ceiling of my office. Our worst problem was a mouse. At first it was quite cute and hid underneath the fireplace but when it then took over the kitchen and ate my son’s easter egg, war was declared. I won’t go into all the gory details but suffice to say my bounty bars are now safe!

Am I saying life is too difficult here and that I want to go back to my city life? Not a bit of it – but next winter it won’t be me going to the woodshed to get the logs!

LINK TO VIDEO:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeWITeExEy4

If you go down to the woods today....

I always thought I was a true ‘townie’ but my current property search is leading me astray. I have been asked to find a family home in the country with plenty of land, views and a pool, and some of the properties I have found have made me have a bit of a rethink. I can now imagine flinging open the shutters of my stone mas and taking my cup of coffee down to the pool where I can look down the garden, to the fruit trees in the orchard, and admire the view of the Pyrenees in the distance. I was almost thinking about chickens and perhaps a donkey until a viewing last week reminded me that country living is not always as idyllic as you might think.

The owner showing me around was accompanied by a very enthusiastic and bouncy dog who, having given me a very inappropriate greeting (the dog not the owner!) insisted on following us around and getting in the way to such an extent that we finished the house in 10 minutes and then proceeded into the garden. The garden was fabulous – about an acre of flat land with terraces near the house, a swimming pool in the middle, and then grass and trees dipping down to a river just beyond the fence. On the other side of the river was woodland which also belonged to the property. I could just picture my clients and their children paddling in the river and strolling through their woodland but there is a price to pay for everything: the first thing to consider is that if you ‘own’ part of a river it is your responsibility to keep it clear of debris, the second is that woodland generally needs annual ‘clearing’ of undergrowth and if it is left to run totally wild the Commune can fine you. I’m not suggesting these are reasons not to buy a property but are just worth bearing in mind if, like me, your idea of outdoor life is lying on a sun-lounger rather than intensive manual labour!

The dog was still galloping around and coming back for surprise rugby tackles as the owner laughed at how ‘playful’ Bob was being and then, as an aside, mentioned that they were lucky to have him as he kept the ‘Wild Pigs’ from the garden. Have my clients got a dog? – No. End of viewing. Wild pigs (or Sangliers) are very common here in the Pyrenees-Orientales and although they prefer to live in densely wooded areas, are not averse to making nocturnal visits to neighbouring gardens where they can do a lot of damage through digging and scratching young trees. Also, where there are Sangliers there will be hunters - during the season of ‘La Chasse’ you will come across groups of men with guns up to 3 times a week, and whether you put up signs on your land saying ‘no hunting’ (or even have your land designated as ‘non-hunting’ land), Sangliers cannot read and hunters are not renowned for checking out local bye-laws!

Wildlife apart ‘though, I really am beginning to see the merits of living in the country – any excuse to buy a pair of Cath Kidston wellies!