Happy New Mayor

One of January’s highlights (mainly because there aren’t many) is the Cérémonié des Voeux held by the Mairie.  This is where they present their best wishes for the New Year and invite us to share a ‘moment of sharing and exchange’.  No it’s not one of ‘those’ evenings (the village hall is far too cold!) but there is food and wine, so we went.

There seemed to be a particularly good turnout this year and our village is increasing in population every year so it is always good to see the arrival of young families but, as ever, perhaps 70 - 80% of the people there were over 70 or 80 years old.  

The evening started as it always does, with the microphone not working, then working at 70 decibels with a cacophony of static and feedback, and then at last all was sorted and our new Madame Mayor could begin her welcome speech.  She gave us a review of what she had spent our taxes on last year, and what she was going to spend them on this year, and then thanked her team for helping her spend our money.  (To be fair, the village now has an excellent new school, revamped ‘youth club’ and a new washbasin in the village hall so they seem to be doing a good job).  

This was followed by a tribute to somebody called Helène who had just retired from the primary school.  After several false starts when we saw what seemed to be the entire contents of somebody’s personal computer, a video was projected on a screen and we watched pupils and ex-pupils delivering messages of thanks and appreciation. We all applauded at the end, expecting to see the obviously much loved Helène arrive to receive a handshake and a bouquet of flowers from the Mayor.  But nothing happened.

And finally it was the moment we had all been waiting for - Madame the Mayor announc
ed the end of the formal part of the evening and invited us all to participate in the ‘glass of friendship’.  It seemed only natural that we ‘young ones’ helped to stack the chairs vacated by the ‘old ones’.  Big mistake.  This gave them a head start towards the buffet and despite their age they all seemed capable of moving at very high speed and surrounded the tables like a flock of greedy seagulls.

There was some food left by the time we got there and it was delicious.  In previous years there were perhaps a few crisps, dried up bits of meat, tepid wine, but this year there was a wonderful spread of mini canapés, charcuterie, terrine, bread etc and lots of bottles of wine from the local Cave - and not the cheap stuff either, but the ‘La Reserve’!  And just when it looked as if the food was nearly finished, the ‘Galettes des Rois’ arrived (the traditional frangipane pastry cakes), which meant that the flock of seagulls immediately surrounded the tables again. And to accompany this, they produced bottles of excellent sparkling wine.  

Unfortunately, thanks to Brexit, I am no longer allowed to vote in local elections but if I could, this Mayor would definitely be re-elected - if only for her excellent choice in ‘refreshments’.

Is it over yet?

I’ve been looking at the pictures of people in the UK celebrating their first outings since the lockdown was eased - sitting in pub beer gardens wrapped in thick coats with umbrellas protecting them from the traditional bank holiday weekend downpour - and I feel envious!   Here in France we are in what could be called ‘loose confinement’ - which sounds like a great description of the elastic-waisted jogging bottoms I have been living in all winter.   From having been restricted to ‘free movement’ within a 10km radius (or 30km with an attestation proving we have a valid reason for the journey) we can now travel as far as we like.  Unfortunately there is no reason to do this - as there is nothing to do when you get there.  Bars and restaurants are still closed, as are ’non-essential’ shops.

Nobody seems to know what is ‘essential’ or ‘non-essential’ at the moment and the decision seems to have been made by somebody just sticking a pin in certain words on a random list.   Clothes and shoe shops have been ordered to close but the wine shops remain open (this is France after all…)  In the supermarkets certain displays have been covered up so you won’t be tempted to buy ‘non-essential' items such as socks and pants but there is nothing to stop you buying tortilla chips and chocolate.  It also seemed strange that one couldn’t buy toys for children but you could buy toys for dogs.  I went to a large electrical store to buy printer ink, having used up all my supply printing out the endless travel attestations.  For some reason the fridge/freezer section was taped off like a crime scene - and yet there was nothing to stop you buying electric toothbrushes, beauty gadgets to make your face look younger, electric scented diffusers etc.  

For the moment we are still under a strict curfew and cannot leave our homes after 7pm, unless we have a fantastically valid reason for needing to do so, and have filled out yet another attestation.  I am still not entirely sure why there is more chance of catching Covid-19 at night, but as the restaurants are still closed there is not much reason to venture out in the evenings anyway.  This curfew will gradually be pushed back to 9pm (when outdoor terraces reopen) and then 11pm towards the end of June when everything should be fully functioning again.     The only bonus to all this is that I have learnt something that is glaringly obviously once you know it - the word Curfew comes from the french Couvre-feu (cover your fire).   Apparently it was a law created by William the Conqueror to ensure that everybody put their fires out by 8pm so that the old timber buildings wouldn’t catch fire.  No doubt if their houses had caught fire and people had to leave their burning homes they would have needed an attestation….. 

How Life in France Works - Part 2 - Driving

My car has many dents and scrapes but none of them were my fault but caused by badly placed pillars in car parks, or having to scrape the front gate in an effort to avoid running over my dog (for example). 

It appears that many people have the same problems with car park pillars and gateposts as I do as it is rare to see a car in pristine condition - we get odd sitings of immaculate cars in the summer but they are usually driven by tourists.  You can tell where each car is from as the Department number is marked either on, or just beside the number plate (depending on the age of the car), so cars here in the Pyrénées-Orientales are marked 66 - and anybody else is a ‘foreigner’.  This system is also useful for the police during the Covid confinement as it is easy to see who is where they shouldn’t be!

Apart from the obvious difference about driving on the right and not the left, there are other things that you need to bear in mind.   STOP signs mean that you must actually Stop and not just roll forward while checking for traffic, White Lines are to be respected as if they are a river of lava and never to be crossed, Cyclists are king, and have priority everywhere (this is not from official sources, just the impression they give…).  Other differences that I think are a great idea are the traffic lights for roadworks that have a countdown timer on them, and the unofficial system of putting your hazard lights on when you find yourself approaching a traffic jam, giving a warning to the person behind you that they need to slow down.  

Speed limits are generally well-respected in France and it is pretty easy to stick to the limit on the motorways but sometimes you can get caught out when approaching villages as you have to quickly slow down from 80kmh to 50 or 30kmh as soon as you pass the sign giving the name of the village and then in the centre it can be reduced to 20kmh.  As I can never remember what speed I’m supposed to be doing I now stick to 3rd gear on the outskirts of a village and 2nd gear driving through a village.  And just on the subject of gears, perhaps now is the time to admit that I had my car for well over a year before I realised it had 6 gears...  

The biggest surprise to me has been the fact that ‘Priority to the Right’ was not a myth, but a reality.  You can be driving merrily on a main road and somebody on a side road can just pull out in front of you - and they have the perfect right to do so!  Apparently there are signs on these roads advising you that you are on a ‘Priorité a droite’ road and they are more common in rural areas but they do exist.  Apparently the sign is a black cross in a red triangle (I thought it meant cross-roads ahead). 

But if the Highway Code is a mystery to you, or you have never learned to drive, or even if you have lost your licence, there is nothing to stop you driving in France -you can just buy a VSP (Voiture sans Permit).  This is exactly as it sounds, a little 2-seater car with a restricted speed of 45kmh that you can drive without a licence!

How life in france works - Part 1 - Banking

This is the first of a series of articles about general stuff that I wish I’d known when I first moved to France.   This week - Banks.

You will need to open a bank account, and this will involve a ton of paperwork, because this is France.  They will ask for proof of ID (with photo), proof of address (recent utility bill, rent statement), proof of funding (previous bank statements, wage slips or tax return if self-employed).  These are just the basics and different banks have different requirements so keep your 10-metre swimming diploma and ‘O’ level certificates to hand, just in case!  They will often ask more detailed questions about your other savings accounts and how much you think you will spend each year or, in the case of a business account, how much you think you will earn.  Feel free to ‘guesstimate’ as it just seems important that they have something to fill in the boxes.

If you are opening a joint account be sure you know how you want the account to operate.  If the account is in the name of M. et Madame Clooney it means that both account holders have to sign cheques or other documents; but if it is M. ou Madame Clooney, only one of their signatures is required so Mrs Clooney could clean out the account!

There is no such thing as ‘free’  banking in France and charges can vary wildly and for all sorts of different things, whether it is for the cheque book, debit card, internet transactions, standing orders, and/or the little gadget they give you for internet banking that you stick your card in to receive a confirmation code.  Check around but you are highly unlikely to pay less than 100€ per year.

Once you have your shiny new debit card, do not be tempted to rush out and spend all your money at once - there is a limit to the amount that you can spend each month, even if you have the funds available in your account.  You can draw cash out of the ATM or pay by cheque, but can only use your debit card up to a certain limit.  I have no idea why. 

DO NOT, under any circumstances, spend more than you have in your account.  Bouncing cheques is not just ‘frowned upon’ but is a criminal offence and you can be black-listed from banking for 5 years.  In reality the bank will most likely honour the cheque but  charge you an arm and a leg in interest and fines.

Talking of body parts you will often be asked for a RIB when setting up direct debits or arranging transfers to your account.  This stands for Rélévè d’Identité Bancaire and is a slip of paper which gives the coordinates of your bank account and branch details.  It’s a good idea to carry a copy of your RIB in your wallet as you never know when you will feel the urge to open a mobile phone account.  You will usually find this slip tucked away at the back of your cheque book, or you can print one out at the ATM, or if you are clever enough to negotiate Internet Banking you can download copies from your client account page.

PS.  I have no idea why the man withdrawing money from the ATM is wearing a dressing-gown - this is not obligatory.

PPS.  To open an account with a utility company you will need a bank account, and to open a bank account you will need to show proof of your account with a utility company.  Welcome to France!

Let sleeping dogs lie ...

Due to various ‘incidents’ over the years I have had some experience of the french medical system, and the fact that while some doctors will prescribe vast quantities of strong medicines, others will recommend homeopathic and alternative remedies.  Which is why I should not have been at all surprised when the vet suggested I take my dog to a physiotherapist!

I’ve had Loulou, my border collie, for over 8 years now and as she was from a shelter it is hard to know how old she is but the vet reckons she must be at least 12 years old, if not more.  I have no idea how old I am in ‘dog years’ but we both seem to be a similar age.  We sleep more than we used to, have difficulty getting up in the morning, can’t walk as far as we used to, need to get up in the middle of the night, often find ourselves in the kitchen wondering what we went there for, and have a bit of arthritis.  The only differences between us are that I don’t fall over when I sneeze, she has to be lifted in and out of the car (I can do it on my own!), and she has a heart condition.

The last time we went to the vet for her heart pills I asked for some general advice on how to help an ‘old’ dog (obviously not to try to teach it new tricks would be the most important!).  I thought he was joking when he mentioned physiotherapy but apparently it is really a ‘thing’ and he told me about a place which specialises in ‘complementary medicine’ so I made an appointment.

The waiting room was very ‘Zen’ and peaceful - no smell of incense burning but there was relaxing music playing, pictures of nature and happy horses, and potted plants (on shelves, not at floor level for obvious reasons).  We were welcomed by the Dogteur who asked some general questions and then gave her a very thorough 45 minute massage.  At the end of it Loulou was fast asleep and snoring gently - and I was so jealous!

We were advised to keep her ‘quiet’ for the next couple of days, which was absolutely no problem as she showed no signs of wanting to exercise but just seemed to want to sleep under a tree in the garden - which is quite scary as she is also pretty deaf and doesn’t respond when you call so you have to keep going to check that she is still breathing!  I can’t say that she is a ‘new’ dog since the visit but it has certainly helped - and we will definitely be making a return visit as I see they also offer acupuncture, osteopathy, chinese remedies and psychology treatments.  But sadly only for animals…

A matter of life and death

At 3.30pm yesterday I was doing a property viewing with clients and was showing them the spectacular view from the roof terrace.  I looked down onto the street below where a group of mourners were chatting outside the church, and discreetly waved to my partner, who had also attended the funeral with me….

Yesterday my friend Francis died.  He was the man who persuaded me to start playing tennis with the team of ‘old’ men in the village and made me feel so welcome.  As he lived alone (apart from his dog) I had called him in April to see how he was coping with the ‘confinement’ and he told me that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer and that his ex-wife had come back to look after him.  All the family were with him when he died, and they asked us to come to the house to talk about him.  I didn’t want to intrude but they really enjoyed hearing anecdotes about Francis - particularly the time he entered me for the village tennis tournament - in the men’s doubles team!  

There was to be a church service for him at 3pm that very afternoon.  I wasn’t overly keen on the idea as I hate public goodbyes and also had the excuse of a property visit scheduled at 3.30pm but as the house just happened to be opposite the church, I realised that a) I would have time to do both and b) it would look bad if I said no and was then seen sneaking past the church later.  

I wish I could explain a little about what a french funeral is like but due to the fact the two priests were wearing masks I couldn’t understand a word they said and just kept standing up, sitting down and saying Amen whenever anybody else did.  As we were sitting at the back I managed to sneak out as soon as the service ended and walked round the corner to meet my clients. 

So that is how I said my final goodbye to Francis, at a respectful ‘social’ distance - 4 storey’s up - and I know he would have been amused.

Still enjoying Summer!

I have been spending most of September lying on a sun-lounger by the pool (and to be honest, most of July and August too…!).  Normally I think of my September ‘holiday’ as a well-earned break after a hectic summer of running holiday rental properties.  Most Saturdays would find me hurtling between several villas checking that the cleaners had turned up, making sure there were enough basic provisions for guests (loo rolls & washing up liquid for the 3* properties, welcome packs of cheese and wine for the 4* properties), doing ‘meet and greets’ or making sure the keys were hidden in the right place etc.  On Sundays I would usually get at least 1 ‘call-out’ from a guest who had already lost the key or lacked the basic skills to work the washing machine.  During the week I would call in to meet the guests I hadn’t met on the Saturday, picking my way around shiny sun-burned bodies and beer bottles scattered around the pools. But not this year…

To start with I had less properties to run - 2 of the larger villas had been sold and I had resigned from the 3rd because the owner would never pay for any maintenance issues and after ‘sewage-gate’ and an incident with a hornet’s nest I decided to call it a day.  The main flurry of bookings for the summer normally arrive in March, but this year, due to the lockdown, there was just a flurry of cancellations from the few who had already booked.  So, when I could drag myself away from making banana-bread and tidying cupboards I contacted all my ‘owners’ and suggested they drop their prices and offer longer-stay discounts.  Success! Most of the summer visitors were French or Belgian (less affected by travel restrictions) but some of the other renters were what I would call ‘Covid Refugees’ including a family unable to get back to America who were delighted to rent for one month, and a couple whose house purchase had been delayed until September.  

The one thing that has really surprised me this year is the clients’ attitude to the virus.  It doesn’t seem to exist for them.  I have made sure that every property is kept empty for several days between clients, that everything is disinfected and the cleaners wear masks; when I meet the clients I wear a mask and hand over the disinfected keys in a plastic bag and explain all the precautions we have taken - and they cheerfully say ‘oh, we’re not worried’ and seem surprised that I don’t go in with them to show them around! 

 So perhaps I can’t quite justify my September idleness as being a reward for hard work over the summer, but I can at least relax knowing that I haven’t put anybody’s health at risk - and especially not my own!

Fully 'Fully-furnished'

I have just been asked to put a property on the market on behalf of the owners who live in Scotland.  I’m always pleased to be asked to sell a house (particularly when there are no agents involved!) but this time I’m feeling a bit sad for the owners.  The house was a holiday home and because of Covid-19 and all the uncertainty over travel restrictions they realise they won’t be able to visit and enjoy the house as much as they used to so have decided to sell.  

When I went to check out the house it was as if they had just popped out for a while - the beds were made up, towels were on a drying rack in the bathroom, bicycles in the hall, food in the cupboards and a half-finished book was on the table.  As it is uncertain whether they will be able to come down and recuperate any of their possessions I am selling it fully-furnished, down to every last plate, saucepan, sun-lounger and opened bottle of Gin!  

So, if you are looking for a well-maintained 3-bed, 2 living room 3 storey village house with panoramic views from the roof terrace and a well-stocked drinks cupboard just give me a call.  (And if you're wondering - it's just 155k).

                

Yet another medical story...

During this pandemic it is perhaps best to avoid any public medical facilities, unless absolutely necessary.  That was my plan - but due to yet another alcohol related incident, I can now write about what it is like to have a medical problem during this Covid-19 situation!

When I say ‘alcohol-related’, in fact not a drop had passed my lips, I was just preparing for having the neighbours over for an apero.  I went down to the cellar to bring up some bottles and as I was walking back up I slightly mis-judged the step and my foot slipped a little, twisting my big toe and causing a fair amount of pain.  I sat with my foot in the pool for a while and then when the neighbours turned up applied ice (externally) and alcohol (internally) and for most of the evening it felt better. 

The next morning it was swollen and painful to walk on, so there was no option but to go and see the Doctor.  Normally you just turn up and wait for hours but at the moment she is operating an appointment system only so I rang -  and got a recorded message saying that the surgery was closed all day on the 15th.  As this was, in fact, the 20th, there didn’t seem much option but to just go there and hope for the best.  I prepared well, taking with me a mask, a book, and a big bottle of water.  The book was a great idea but what hadn’t crossed my mind was that if I wanted to drink the water I would have to remove the mask!  This didn’t seem to bother the other people in the waiting room who were constantly removing their masks to chat, drink or wipe their sweaty faces!

Eventually I got to see the Doctor, who took one look and said ‘Ooh La La’ - although I think that was more to do with the state of my pedicure.  She said that even if it was broken there wasn’t much they could do by way of treatment, then she showed me a picture of some very flat and bulky orthopaedic shoes, and we both laughed, and I hobbled out with a prescription for an X-Ray.

Getting anything done in France in August is a trial.  The first place I called  offered me an appointment for a week on Friday, but the 4th one said I could go the next morning at 11am.  They warned me it would be busy as it is holiday  season and tourists seem to spend more time falling over and breaking limbs than lying on beaches.  I turned up imagining I would find a tv ‘sit-com’ style scenario of a waiting room full of people in wheelchairs and full body casts, but in fact, there were just 2 people waiting.  The chairs were taped off so you couldn’t sit too close to anybody, and my partner was ordered to wait outside - which he did with unseemly haste!  As with any medical appointment you are asked to hand over your Carte Vitale - and as usual mine was not ‘up to date’ - apparently you are supposed to regularly insert your card into a machine in the pharmacy so that it remains updated, but as I am British and we tend to treat even a missing limb as ‘just a flesh wound’, I hadn’t used it for a while.

After just 10 minutes I was called into the X-Ray room and had my foot painfully man-handled while they took pictures of various angles, then I was sent back to the waiting room.  The technician made a big show of spraying down the table and chair that I had used, so I made a big show of applying gel to my hands and wiping the door handle on my way out.

10 minutes later I was called to the counter, charged 6€ (the difference between the actual cost and what is included under the state health system) and given the results.  Luckily it turned out not to be broken - which fact made no difference to the amount of pain I was feeling - so no treatment apart from just to rest it as much as possible, and keep applying ice.  So, the point of this story is just to say don’t worry if you need medical attention at the moment - everything is very well regulated and I felt perfectly ‘safe’.

No News is Good News

  

Every 2 weeks I write an update of the local news stories, translated from french media, and it is published in a newsletter/facebook page/forum for the english-speaking community.  I do it a) Out of the goodness of my heart, b) It is good for my language skills and c) Because the Editor adds a link to my website at the bottom.  OK, mainly c), but I also enjoy doing it!

The problem is that I am starting to get complaints that there is too much bad news!  We even had to change the title from ‘A Light Look at the  Latest Local News’ to ‘A Quick look’ because someone wrote to the Editor complaining that reporting on crime and violence was hardly ‘light’ (this from a gentleman who lives in inner-city London…).  It also back-fired on me when a client who contacted me to ask for help looking for a property here mentioned he had read the News Reports on the local forum and it seemed to be a dangerous area to live in!

So, are we all in danger of being murdered in our beds? No.  This is usually a peaceful laid-back sort of region where the biggest excitement is the fact that Ikea ‘might’ be opening here (they aren’t) or that somebody ‘might’ have seen a dolphin off the coast (very possible).  Unfortunately, due to ‘circumstances beyond our control’ there is slightly more happening than usual and not much of it is good - there is Covid-19 for a start, it is the peak 
of the Tourist Season so there are more people getting into difficulty in the sea (ok - drownings), and it is very hot so there are more drink/drive car accidents and domestic violence incidents.  Also this Department borders Spain so there will always be stories about drug/tobacco smuggling - even though there were slightly less during lock-down when the border was closed!  

But generally so little happens here that I have had to change from writing once a week to once a fortnight - and even then I am often scratching about trying to find something more interesting to write about than the forthcoming Snail Festival or whether this year’s Cherry production was good or bad. So I can hand on heart assure anybody who is thinking of coming to the area that there is no need to panic, there are not gangs of gun-wielding criminals around every corner, and the only danger is that you will fall in love with the place and not want to leave….

Suffering from Wind ....

I can only assume there is a website somewhere that says that this region is a hurricane zone because I regularly get asked whether the wind is a problem here.   The answer is not a simple yes or no.  But first, some background information (I’ve actually done some research for once!)

Apparently we get 4 types of wind here (no hurricanes), so in reverse order we begin with:

The Scirocco - This is the hot, dry wind that blows up from North Africa and deposits orange sand on your car.  This very rarely happens so is not a problem - apart from having to clean your car (which I regularly do once a year whether it is dirty or not…)

The Levant - A hot and very humid wind which blows in across the Mediterranean from the South-East.  Again, pretty rare and not a problem (unless you have hair that curls at the slightest trace of humidity …)

The Marin - Very similar to the Levant but this one is more likely to bring clouds and rain with it - and, again, gives me an instant unwanted perm.

The Tramontane - Yes, this is the one that everyone talks about.  Apparently it is ‘powerful, dry and cold and blows from the north or northwest’.  Gusts can reach over 100kmh.

So, the only wind we really need to talk about is the Tramontane, and in fact we are ‘suffering’ from it today as I write.  All it means is that I’ve had to thoroughly peg-down the washing on the line, take down the parasols, and I am making sure that the sun-lounger cushions don’t fly into the pool by regularly lying there to keep a close eye on things (a tough job but somebody has to do it!).  So it is by no means a huge problem, and it only ever lasts for a few days at most.  In fact I would say it is a good thing - we get spectacular sunsets with ‘spaceship’ style clouds, it keeps the skies clear and blue so we can enjoy our reputation as the sunniest region in France - and laundry dries within 5 minutes of being pegged out!

(Thank you to Gilly J-f for the photo)

It's life - but not as we know it ...

It’s 3 months since France went into Lockdown and we are now in the early stages of ‘Deconfinement’.  I feel like a prisoner who, because of good behaviour, has been let out of solitary confinement and is now on ‘Day-Release’.  And I have been ‘Good’ and followed all the advice and government guidelines because (to quote a well-known song) ‘At first I was afraid, I was petrified’.  The idea that we were in danger of catching a lethal virus with no known cure and it wasn’t just a scary film scenario very much focuses the mind! 

The fact that I took it all so seriously at the beginning means that for me, not a lot has changed - except I no longer feel the urge to bake bread or tidy cupboards!   I’m still being very careful - wearing my mask any time I go into an enclosed space, not going to the shops unless I have to and just spending time with friends outside rather than in their houses.   Even though the restaurants are now open I have yet to visit (somehow the idea of being served by people in masks doesn’t appeal), I didn’t rush to the beach (because actually it rained for 3 days!), and I am resisting the urge to go to a big shopping centre.  I don’t even know what the exact rules and regulations are at the moment but it just seems to be a matter of continuing to be careful and basically just using your common sense. It doesn’t surprise me that it was a Frenchman (Voltaire) who said ‘Common sense is not so common’ as there didn’t seem to much of it in evidence in London on Monday when hordes of people were queuing outside Primark and the Nike Store.  Is a pair of £5 Lycra leggings (or a £400 pair of designer trainers) really worth risking your health for?  

My only ‘unnecessary’ outing was last Saturday when I decided that I very much needed to buy Geraniums for my terrace planters, so off I went to the local market.   And it was wonderful!  Not a lot different to the way it always is except they had created a sort of Entrance in one corner with a bottle of hand sanitiser on a table and most stall-holders were wearing masks (but kept taking them off to talk to the customers!).  On the way back to my car I spotted a friend sitting at a café table in the square, so I joined her for a coffee, and we sat in the sunshine, and watched the world go by, while we listened to the accordionist …. and I realised it wasn’t Geraniums that I had been missing - I just needed a ‘fix’ of ‘french-life’…

Call the Manager

I don’t think anybody, whether owners or renters, realise quite how much hard work running rental properties can be.  So I will tell you!

Most of the properties I manage are ‘second-homes’ belonging to people who want to earn a bit of money from them while they are not using them.  They hand me the keys, tell me which months/weeks are available, and I sort everything out for them.  If the properties are empty (ie often over the winter) it is simply a question of making regular visits to check that all is well and to sort out any maintenance issues, summer is a different matter!

As this is such a lovely region, holiday villas are usually pretty well-booked from June to September so I try to prepare as well in advance as possible.  In Spring I take the cleaners to each property to give them a thorough pre-season blitz (the villas, not the ladies!) and to show the new ones what standards we are aiming for (some of the ‘5 star villa’ owners expect their towels to be folded in a certain way!).  The gardeners garden, the pool-men work their magic, the outdoor furniture is jet-washed (or teak-oiled) and everything is perfect for the guests, who will have a wonderful stay, except for ….

• The lady who sent a long email complaining that there was no upright reclining garden chair for her elderly father, and that there were no UK tv channels (despite the fact this had been highlighted on the booking form).  Within hours I turned up with one of my own chairs, and a gadget to connect an iPad to the TV and left him happily watching the news.  The next day she sent another long email to thank me and apologise for the complaints - she was stressed after a long journey and her mother had died recently so this was her father’s first holiday without her.
• The client (renting an apartment in Perpignan centre) who complained about the colour of the dust that blew in- it was grey but apparently in Texas it is white ….
• The clients who asked if it was OK to bring two small dogs, which turned out to be Dobermans, and left the garden in a bad state.  They lost their deposit because of their dogs’ deposits!
• The family who telephoned me to say they had arrived at the villa but the key-safe wasn’t working.  (Some villas don’t require a ‘Meet and Greet’ service but they keys are left in a key-safe on the wall outside, they dial in the code I have sent them, retrieve the keys and let themselves in).  I went straight over and found absolutely no problem - except that they didn’t realise they had to actually open the box and take keys out rather than just tapping in the code and expecting the gate to automatically open!
• The group renting a 7-bed villa who pretended not to know that check-out time was 10am -and were splashing around in the pool and in no way ready to leave when I turned up with the cleaners.  Finally managed to evict them at noon, having started to ‘clean’ around them.
• And last but not least, this one is mainly my fault as I didn’t take proper references - I just believed the story of the  young couple, expecting a baby, who needed to rent the town apartment for one month as they had given notice on their current rental and their ‘new-build’ house was delayed.  2 weeks into the rental one of the neighbours in the building contacted me to let me know that there was much ‘activity’ going on in the apartment and that men were ringing the door buzzers at all times of the day and night, asking for ‘les filles’.  They had been running the place as a brothel ….!  (NB.  This is apparently quite common now, even with bookings taken via sites such as AirBNB - so owners beware - you never know where that money comes from!) 
  
  
  
  

The customer is always right - unless they are wrong!

Having all this time being unable to work has given me the opportunity to reflect on some of the things that I didn’t like about work.  Namely, certain clients!  I don’t know what the statute of limitations for libel is, so I will try to keep this as anonymous as possible:

Firstly, viewing a villa with a group of 7 people (2 families who wanted to buy a large property together to share holidays).   We arrived at the house of Monsieur Propriètaire in a convoy of cars, I introduced everybody, and the problems started. Two of the group started wandering around the garden and Monsieur P (quite rightly) wanted everybody to stay together for the grand tour.  I rounded everyone up, we started the tour, they began snapping photos (without asking) and two of them stayed downstairs while the rest of us continued the tour.  Monsieur P was becoming more and more agitated and said that if they didn’t stay together he would have to ask me to cancel the viewing.  I explained the situation and one of the couples decided to take this as an insult and said they would go and wait in their car.  The tour continued but then Monsieur P looked out of the window and spotted that they were using a laptop in the car and convinced himself they were part of a gang of international criminals who were checking out his property with a view to robbing it later.  The tour ended.  They did not buy the house - or burgle it!  

Usually I ask as many questions as possible so that I can match the right properties to the right clients, but there are two questions that I would love to ask but daren’t - in this day and age asking about height and weight would not be politically correct but it is actually pretty important!  A few years ago my old agency sent me to meet a couple who had asked to view 2 specific properties they had seen on the website.  To say Mrs Client was plump would be an under-statement, and she also used 2 walking sticks.  The first property just happened to be a bungalow which seemed perfect for them but even that was too much for her and she parked herself at the kitchen table while her husband visited the house with me.  I then very tactfully tried to explain that I didn’t think the second property would suit them (it was a 3 storey village house with very steep steps) but they insisted on seeing it -  she didn’t even get out of the car!  A funnier experience happened with another couple - the husband was an extremely ‘well-built’ ex rugby-player and despite my warning to be careful of the raised doorstep, he toppled over in slow motion and rolled gracefully into the hall.  Luckily his beer-belly cushioned his fall.  (If ever I give up this job I will become an actress as I managed to express concern despite the fact I was inwardly crying with laughter!).  Very tall clients can also cause problems - ‘Character Stone-built Village Houses’ are often a maze of different levels and low beamed ceilings and nobody over 6’ tall should even think about living in one - I now carry plasters and arnica gel in my handbag.

Other problematic clients are the ones who know exactly what they want - they turn up armed with maps, compasses, rejecting anything that isn’t facing the right direction (naturally at my old agency all the properties faced South or South-East…) and one couple were so fixed on buying a house with blue shutters that I was tempted to buy a pot of paint.  And then there are the clients who have no idea what they want - very recently I spent 3 days  with a couple who wanted a 2 bed house near the sea, then decided that because of global warming (ie raised sea levels in 50 years time) they preferred to be in Perpignan centre, then they wanted an extra bedroom for work, then they decided that a smaller town would be better but it had to have a train station, and finally they added that they needed secure parking.  Needless to say, despite several viewings I didn’t manage to find what they were looking for - and I don’t think I ever will!

So that is a brief look at the worst side of property finding; next time - rental nightmares!