Through someone else's eyes

Problems become blessings....

Lately we've been doubting what we've done here, all the angst and money spent, tale as old as renovation time, what was the point.... until......!

The door bell goes on a pretty ordinary 'moaning Monday' morning and I immediately recognise the lady stood in front of me. Surely that is not the lady that sold us this house? In fact it wasn't, it was her sister! They look so alike! She was pointing to the 'Maison Maurice' plaque near the front door and asked if it was named after her father the Doctor. It was and for a moment we both went silent as she caught her breath.

'Do you wanna come in?' I say.

I always knew this house had been important to the community and obviously to their family the L'oisel's, the house built by their parents now with angels wings and morphing with the generations of builders merchants, cafe owners. Its been a hospital, school, doctors surgery and has worn many other central town hats, remaining in the same family until we bought it in 2017 after the old doctor passed on. This old town certainly used to be quite the hub and also had its own railway station, sadly around 1949 ish the railway was decommissioned and the tracks removed. If these walls could talk, what tales would they tell?

I feel I know them in some ways. I mean this house was pretty much left as is and yes there were some expletives ^&**&%$£() from moi and then some, I guess the kids took what they wanted and we got rid of the rest. We rooted through their lives, guessing they were a medical family, that apple didn't fall far from the tree eh. Magazines from Paris, expensive wallpaper everywhere, home art in the barn studio, a smoking room full of pipes and tobacco and 4000 plus empty wine bottles in the cellar, a life lived well, a home not just a house.

I invited Clare and her husband in, as I could tell they really wanted a petite visit down memory lane, especially as they were here to visit her father's grave. So we got an opportunity to see this house through their eyes and their special memories. To be honest we needed their visit more than they will ever know. It's not been terribly friendly here for us and we've experienced none of the really good stuff here, many expats talk about, in fact to be brutally honest we've been treated quite terribly by some, including our neighbours. The whole lorry thing just added insult to injury and makes no sense to most sane people. Still, we learnt to toughen up and carry the fudge on.

Clare and her husband absolutely loved, what we've done with their old family home and she shared her vivid memories with us. They were both very surprised and pleased that we had named the house after their father. When thinking about a name for the house, as the British often do, it felt right for us to include them, after all it was built in the late 1890's by their family and these walls were very much blessed with their generational memories, not ours. We are only ever custodians of these grande old dames, never the owners really. We live well within the walls and add to the fabric of its history, hopely improving its condition as we go.

I recall viewing the house in late autumn 2016, rather calvados and creme brûlée'd up, the funeral picture eerily mirrored in the salon mirror, then the phone rang and yet the line was supposedly cut! My husband felt it was a sign to buy, which is odd because he really doesn't believe in the afterlife. So you see in many ways, we looked into his eyes and he looked in to ours. Maybe he chose us to live here after all?

What I learnt on our little unexpected Monday viewing was the names of the children who grew up here, now in their early seventies and the fact that her father was the artist and not the mother as I'd always believed. The mother was the gardener and she showed me old photos of the rampant hydrangeas and her beloved roses which of course we've kept one of and will plant some new ones in the new flower garden in her honour. I shall of course name the rooms after the kids, I like the authenticity of it and there's no doubt this home had its happy moments.

And so these solid timeless walls, that we bought with all those time worn, well loved and ageing issues, the same house that has fought back, nearly finished us off emotionally, physically and financially, is fixed and will live on again for the next 100 years. I also think as we approach the end of the main renovation, we did a good thing rescuing this old grande dame, full of the ghosts of those born and raised here along with her many visitors. Its history was already written when we bought her on a whim and now these now warm and dry walls can listen in again to whomever comes after us.

I guess in the end, it was worth it, we just had to open our eyes to just what we've achieved here, the house is unrecognisable other than to those that already lived and laughed within its embrace. Clare and her family will be invited to the 'opening' of Maison Maurice in a few months time and she intends to bring some art and photos back to grace the walls of chez Maurice, which just feels fitting and right. Somehow we are now bonded, sharing the memory bank of this old house. How lovely.

I truly beleive there are blue skies ahead for no.19 don't you?

D x