I took advantage of this last Sunday to visit the small castle which I pass nearly every day on my way to do the shopping, visit the office or whatever.  It’s called Chateau Villevert and I have always joked that if I won the EuroMillions lottery I would put in a bid for it.

 It transpires that money can’t buy the lovely chateau, which has been in the same family since the Middle Ages.  The current chateau was largely rebuilt during the 19^th Century, though the archways are largely original, and a chapel in the grounds (which I previously did not know existed) dates from 1880 when it was built in memory of the (then) proprietor’s young wife who died from tuberculosis at a very young age.

 I won’t bore you with a long historical account of the castle and its chapel; you can read more here if you wish.  What impressed me most was how warmly and enthusiastically the present owners, who are by no means youngsters, took on the task of showing numerous curious visitors around their home and answering some very detailed questions about the castle, its past and its significance in the history of this part of France.

 When I lived and worked in England I used to pass some beautiful and historic country houses in my travels, yet somehow I can’t imagine the owners entertaining the hoi polloi with such grace and friendliness as I received from the owners of chateau Villevert, willingly and without remuneration.

 This may just be my perception of the cultural differences between the English and the French.  Did the French Revolution really do away with any sense of class-based snobbery?   I think not.  But it could be that these ancestors of the French aristocracy are simply grateful that their particular line escaped the guillotine.

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Bad news for the Old Hack. Telephone and internet connection will not recommence for about a fortnight! Bad management on my part? Well, for once, no actually. Regular readers of these pages will know that telephony in France is now the responsibility of Orange (see The Future’s Bright….)

The little house we’re buying belongs to a lovely French couple who have bent over backwards to help us with our move, supplying names of local suppliers, mechanic, doctor, dentist, etc. Because I have a constant need for internet and telephone connection, I asked if I could take over their telephone line. “No problem. Of course. Just telephone France Télécom and they will arrange it.”

A call to France Telecom told us what we should have guessed. The request must be in writing, and must be accompanied by an official form of identification. The request should also be backed up by a similar letter from the present user of the line (also accompanied by an official form of identification – in spite of the fact they have held the line for some years!)

The letter was written immediately (that is two weeks ago) and sent by recorded delivery. This morning I attempted to telephone the current house owner – only to find the telephone number “not attributed” according to a recorded announcement.

I telephoned France Télécom to ensure that all was well and that the number would be attributed to me on the 30^th April, as requested in my letter….. “Letter? You sent us a letter?” “Yes”, I explained, outlining my reasons for wanting uninterrupted telephony and internet services. “Oh yes. You want the same number? It will take two weeks.”

“Why then.” I ventured, “…does the Orange internet site tell me that if I know the telephone number for my new house, they can arrange immediate internet transfer?”

“Impossible. Two weeks.”

Experience has taught me the futility of arguing with authority here in France. Here there are two golden rules. Rule One: The official is always right. Rule Two: In the unlikely event of the official being wrong, Rule One applies.

I managed a weary, rather than cheery “Thank You” and, it being too early to open a bottle of wine, took a second strong coffee to calm down. I shall make the most of my next few days of internet and telephone access. After that there may be an enforced silence from me for a time.

There’s an orange painted wall in our new house which we had planned to repaint within a very short time of taking up occupation. I think I shall be tempted to paint it as soon as I enter the portals! The future’s bright indeed!

Let me put you young townies out of your misery - they are cowslips, and right now are by far the commonest flower to be found in Poitou-Charente.  Sometimes they are grouped alone, and sometimes with a small blue flower which seems to be a miniature version of the garden hyacinth, or a white flower reminiscent of a snowdrop but far smaller.

I can't identify these wild flowers - until recently I have to confess that I could not even have identified the cowslip.  What is every day a wonder to me, however, is how this countryside abounds with nature in a relatively unspoiled state in comparison with the UK I left behind.

Today alone, I took note of four buzzards (one of which narrowly missed my windscreen on take off!) at least a dozen colourful Jays, two herons and a whole host of (as yet) unidentified species of small bird.  Oh - and perhaps two dozen or so magpies.  I mention this because, wondering why the cowslip is so rare in Britain, I came upon an article by a British countryman laying the blame fairly and squarely (don't ask me to explain the convoluted argument) at the feet of the British public's disgust at the shooting of magpies, which abound and which (for some reason I could not fathom) prevent the cowslip from flourishing.

I've seen many sights here in France that I'm not comfortable with.  Whilst foxhunting happily does not occur in these parts, riflemen tend to shoot at anything they could possibly eat.  But magpies?  Why on earth would anyone want to shoot a magpie?  Maybe so that the cowslip can flourish here...  In case you were in doubt at the first photo, here is a close-up of the little yellow marvel.  Can you spot the magpie in the distance?

Here in France, things are somewhat more complicated.  Basically it is necessary to register with one or another body your intended occupation.  Now that may be very simple.  If you're a plumber you simply register as a plumber.  If you sell newspapers you register as a newspaper seller.  So far, so good.

I am considering registering as a translator.  I speak French fluently and am competent to translate web sites (which I have done from the UK) and undertake other casual work from various sources.

I have also had a tentative offer of work from an estate agency, who are looking for someone with good French to negotiate with local property agents, owners and local government officials.

That wouldn't be a problem in the UK, but here I would have to register with two quite different occupations - which is not always easy.

The English publication 'Connexions' runs a story this month about a photo journalist who set up business in France.  He found that he could register as a journalist or as a photographer.  But the concept of a photo-journalist was alien to the French system.  He eventually got round the problem by forming a (French) limited company, but was held up by five months in the ensuing bureaucracy.

Another British resident wants to set up a tea shop, selling her own home made cakes.  A fine idea, but she must register as a trader (in order to sell tea and cakes) and also as an artisan because she will be baking the cakes that she sells!

The Sarkosy presidency seems to be more alive to the contribution that immigrants, such as we Brits, can make to the French economy than previous administrations, and is actively seeking views and ideas from expat communities within France (not just the Brits) in order to ease restrictions on business and make it easier to be entrepreneurial.

In the meantime, France is losing out to people working "sur le black" and not declaring their earnings.  At first I thought these people were simply evading taxation, but in all honesty I can understand why the frustration of having to jump through so many hoops to achieve something which should be easy could force the most honest citizen to accept work "sur le black" rather than lose a lucrative opportunity.

Earning a living is an essential part of integration into French society.  The sooner it is made easier, the better.

We  have based ourselves here in Narbonne (plage) for a couple of reasons.  One it is right on the beautiful Mediterranean that we know and love, and two - it is in the middle of a triangle of places we need to visit to keep both business and social appointments while we are in the area.

Yesterday, we set out to visit a British lawyer who works in France.  We had been recommended her by someone who said that her practice was in or near Toulouse.  Toulouse is quite a long drive from here, so we set out in good time, and arrived in Toulouse about half an hour before the arranged meeting time.

Then we discovered that the area she lived in was not in Tolouse, but rather some two hundred kilometres further north!  A glance at the map of France we had seen in Vienne had masked this vast difference in distance.  We got back to Narbonne at about 11.30pm thoroughly exhausted.

A couple of weeks earlier, we had travelled from our (then) home in London to Chesterfield.  We were held up on the M1 mortorway near Luton for over an hour.  We travelled through heavy rain and spray which held us up considerably and the journey took us more than four hours in all. 

In spite of the huge distance covered on yesterday's expedition, we were blessed with clear roads for most of the journey, excellent weather and beautiful scenery.  But next time, we really must concentrate on the scale of the map!

When we left England last week, we had the offer of a house to rent.  We had about fifteen minutes to view it on the internet before our connection disappeared.  It looked good, and the rental price for the winter was excellent.

"All very well", we thought, "so what's the catch?" As we drove nearer to the village of Persac where we were to meet British estate agent Chris Manning, (whose facilities I am using right now to post this blog) we passed a detour, which took us past the biggest and most scary looking nuclear electricity station I have ever seen.

"Right".  We decided. "Are we going to risk living within a hundred kilometres of this installation?  No we are not."  Decision made.  We will break the news gently, but we won't be taking up the offer of house rental in the nearby mediaeval town of Montmorillon.

We've found a place to rent for about half what we would pay here in London, and we're booked on the Portsmouth to Le Havre overnight ferry this time next week!  Property buying is more straightforward in France, and it is not easy to get out of a deal once it has been agreed.  We shall therefore be looking closely at what's on offer before jumping in with both feet - but I have to say that all the properties we have already lined up to see look fantastic.

I'm hoping I can soon re-name this page 'Moved to France' or something similar.  Meanwhile it's back to the long and winding road. I will keep you posted.

Now under 'normal' circumstances this would not be a sufficient trauma to cause panic stations within the Hack household.  It coincides, however, with an abnormally swiftly progressing house sale deal.  We are told that contracts could be exchanged as early as next week, with a moving out date in just nine days' time!

So our 'to do' list over the next nine days includes:  Settling a disputed insurance claim, getting a car with which to travel to France, finding somewhere to rent once we get to France, co-ordinating our removal company to put the bulk of our possessions into storage....

We've (almost) been here before.  The last time we thought we'd negotiated the sale we arranged dates for termination of gas, water and electricity supply bills - only to have to call everyone back and yell 'STOP'!  So to do it all again is all a bit scary.  Will it all go wrong again at the last minute? 

We have no real choice but to believe that lightning does not strike twice, take the plunge and get organising.  There may, therefore, be another delay until the next post - which I sincerely hope is a more positive one!  Thanks for your patience.

We started an online business, advertising French properties for sale and to let, Bed and Breakfast accommodation, gites, activity holidays etc.  Contacts were made in France, publicity and website optimisation was paid for....

Then when we came back from a visit to Languedoc Rousillon in early November last year, I found myself hospitalised for the best part of a fortnight with Legionnaire's Disease which I had contracted from who knows where during our travels.  The recovery time was long, and work on the website ground to a halt, which set us back a long way.  Who wants to visit a website with out-of-date information - or worse still no information where there should be some...

We're over the worst.  In May of this year, we bought a French car in readiness for our journey, put our house on the market and left our day jobs....

Then the house sale fell through!  We've had to re-organise our schedule three times now, with promised visits to various estate agents postponed and friends in France re-appraised constantly of our plans.  But with any luck our current house buyer will soon complete the exchange of contracts and at the beginning of October we'll be off on our long overdue adventure. 

Any ideas, stories or humorous articles about moving welcome on the blog.

We'll keep you posted!