I had this idea while using the car scraper to clear ice from the inside of the bedroom windows

Editor's February blog

During the last cold snap there was a burst mains pipe, in Wales I think. Did anyone see the news item? By the time the TV cameras rolled in the community had lived an entire day without water.

“I haven’t been able to wash or run my dishwasher. It’s disgusting” complained one gentleman in that “something must be done” tone of voice. If he wasn’t old enough to remember the war, he certainly lived through the winter of ’63 and for sure there weren’t dishwashers around in his youth.

In another flat, a mother and kids - all in t-shirts so clearly no problem with the central heating - said they had been forced to buy bottled water to flush the loo. Out on the street a bunch of villagers were clustered around tanks shipped in by the water company (so they weren’t actually without water, only running water). Shivering in crop tops and bare legs, and clutching near naked babies in their arms they complained about having to come out in sub-zero temperatures to fill buckets.

Put a b***** coat on, then, and wrap that baby in a blanket! Do people have no survival skills?
Have they never been camping?

A friend here in Normandy has been waiting two years for her husband to install a kitchen sink - she does the washing up in the shower. Another family is still using the old outside staircase to reach their upstairs. Indeed, half the people I know here are either in and out of caravans or decamping from room to room as they build the dream project.

That’s the answer then: ship these whingers out to spend a week in a half-renovated house in Normandy! Call it a sort of outward bound experience. Turn it into a reality TV show.
I had this idea while using the car scraper to clear ice on the inside of the bedroom windows. Not knowing, obviously, that oil prices would tumble and we were in for the coldest winter in recent memory, we had the brilliant idea of not using the central heating this year.

During the very cold spell we dug out the electric convectors and decided to hell with the electricity bill. Ha! Our “rewired” house allows simultaneous use of precisely one radiator and one other electrical gadget. Go wild and try to run, say, the kettle at the same time as the DVD player and the entire supply trips. You waste 5 minutes of your life: thirty seconds stumbling to the mains switch and 4 minutes 30 seconds waiting for the low energy light bulbs to remember they are meant to emit light.

The cold, of course also sends outdoor creatures scurrying for warmth. Our resident mice no longer wait for us to go to bed before sauntering out to check the cheeses on offer. They fail to understand that, in return, they are meant to wait inside the trap until the door shuts. “Forget cheese” advises a colleague. “We ended up super-gluing Smarties in our traps. The final insult was when we found a mouse sitting in the cat saucer eating the cat food.”

I told our own useless felines that there’d be no more cat food on the shopping list while the house is full of tittering mice. They marched off, disgusted, and dragged back the corpse of one of our French neighbour’s rabbits.

The dogs, meanwhile, are so determined to prevent any heat being wasted on human beings that they press up against the petrol heater and periodically set themselves on fire. We use the old t shirts that we hang over the computers to protect them from falling plaster dust to put the flames out.

Even if you know compatriots with perfect, “normal” homes you can be sure they spent a year or so in a caravan or living in 1 1/2 rooms along the way. Many Brits grow so deranged during this renovation process than no sooner have they finished a house than they sell up and start on the next.

Why we all chose this madcap existence (something to do with quality of life, wasn’t it?) is another question. And when we could be living in a centrally heated flat and pouring bottled water down the loo!

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Display advertisers who wish to appear in the supplement should contact Anthea (English) on 06 17 02 24 89 or Raph (French) 06 99 67 30 30.

If none of us has any money, we can’t employ or buy services from each other

Editor's January blog

This should be a cheery column about all those jolly resolutions we make and break at this time of year. But I think we’re all a bit jaded, this January, for such nonsense?

Most of us are vacillating between stiff upper lip, we’ll get through it, heroism and explosions of blinding panic.

The speed of devastation has been breathtaking. One minute we were tittering over the names of US sub-prime mortgage lenders Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae - who sounded like a pimp and his hooker. It was all happening an ocean and a channel away. Then suddenly, even here in Normandy, we’re heading for the promo shelves, switching off the heating and living on vegetable soup.

There may be a clutch of lucky readers out there with plenty of money, safely stashed in euros, and good luck to you.

But few of us are immune. A huge service industry here in Normandy depends on a fresh supply of British incomers and the financial stability of the already-resident and second home-owners. Others earn a sterling income or pension which has gone into free-fall, reducing their spending power.

If none of us has any money we can’t employ or buy services from each other, can we?
And spare a thought for the British estate agents - their French bosses can’t offload them fast enough.

Then there are all the French businesses, the food shops, restaurants, supermarkets, garages, DIY stores, garden centres who have benefited from the incomer spending power. They are the next dominoes to fall.

The tentacles of Mac and Mae are long indeed. A recession only reminds us that clever people choose Teflon careers like dentistry, debt-collection and undertaking.

The usual recession advice is stuff like: give up that (second) foreign holiday, don’t replace the car this year, put off up-sizing your house, don’t buy designer clothes etc.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not acquainted with an awful lot of expats who take multiple foreign holidays, drive spanking new cars, lust after a bigger house or even remember what a designer garment feels like.

As the two families on pages 4-5 demonstrate, most of us have already downsized our lifestyle since moving to Normandy and don’t have have much slack left in the family budget.

So, while we may have managed to plaster the traditional smile across our faces for Christmas Day, it’s hard to keep it in place as we contemplate 2009.

But let’s try. Some of us do have mortgages, but probably a good 70% of British incomers do not, so won’t be facing home repossessions. Even if the value of your sterling pension has plummeted - it is still an income. Many of us have already withdrawn from full-on, must-have, consumer culture and learned to live with less. Our gardens are big enough to have a go at veg-growing (see the potager guide on the gardening pages). Trips to the UK are cheap and it’s a good time to move back if that’s what you want.

OK, we’re clutching at straws here and it’s tough to be cheerful when you’re waking up sweating at 3 am. But we (Brits) are supposed to be good at this kind of Blitz-mentality thing and it won’t go on forever. (How long, exactly, my daughter keeps asking? When are you going to stop giving me pocket money in IOUs?)

People will go bust. While some dance a jig when a competitor goes under, others feel a frisson of fear: there but for the grace of God...

So, whilst fighting for our own survival, we should also be kind in 2009. When it comes, recovery will be swift and sweet. Let’s hope that it’s not too far away. In the meantime: as Happy as possible New Year to All.

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2008 ended with sad news in our household: the children’s wonderful Russian great-grandmother died, just short of 100 years old. Baba Valia’s life spanned modern history: born into Imperial Russia, she lived through the Bolshevik revolution. In Siberia, in labour with my husband’s mother, she trudged through frozen wastes to reach a maternity hospital. Having moved to Moscow, she survived Stalin’s purges and during WW2 watched her children run along the rooftops catching Nazi incendiary bombs and burying them in buckets of sand. When I first met her, the country she had lived almost her entire life in, the Soviet Union, was collapsing and her grandson married (me) a foreigner; her grandchildren are scattered across the globe. Throughout this incredible journey she remained calm, strong, kind - and always cheerful.

How do you actually use up a salary of £18 million?

December 2008 blog

There is a poster which reads: ”I’ve been rich, I’ve been poor. Rich is better.” How true. Being short of money is soul-destroying, marriage-wrecking. Repeating “no, we can’t afford it” to bright eyed children is very dreary.

Who doesn’t want enough money to change the car, redecorate the house, take weekend breaks, spoil children - occasionally?

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to work hard, be good at what you do and earn lots of money. I've nothing against people getting rich - I only wish I were among their number.

But there’s rich and there’s stupid money. Let’s take the example of a UK celebrity recently in the news with his contract worth eighteen million over three years.

One million, OK. Two million - most of us could get through that with a bit of imagination. (Never wasted hours planning what you’d do if you won the lottery and realised that 1 million is not quite enough?)

But £18 million? How do you actually use up that much money? Does any sane person want a gold-plated yacht? Need homes for all the family in the Middle East? What kind of altered state are you living in if you earn several million a year and still feel hard-done by if you don’t get a few more million as a Christmas Bonus?

There's a level of wealth where you stop envying the person and start to feel a bit sick.

When the elite restaurant Maxim’s opened a branch in Moscow soon after the fall of communism, I was sent to review it. In warm boots and thick winter coat I picked my way over penurious, bewildered Muscovites (this was long before the super rich Russian oligarchs appeared on the scene) who were, literally, hawking family treasures on the pavement in order to feed their families bread and potatoes. I’m not sure if the sumptuous curtains inside the restaurant were to hide our food from the destitute or hide the destitute from us while we ate; either way, I couldn’t swallow.

So, while I’d like to be, say, filthy rich, I don’t think I’d be any good at being obscenely rich. Even could I afford it, I’d never be able to spend 260, 000$ on a bag. (Chanel’s alligator and diamond tote, in case you’re wondering). I don’t think most of us would.

Which is why it’s not surprising that, while we may be worrying about savings and mortgage payments as the credit crunch starts to bite, most of us are relieved that the crazy greed-credit-debt-credit-debt carousel has crashed to a halt. We won’t have to listen to people talking about how much their house has risen in value, for a start.

More, importantly, we can take a fresh look at what makes us enjoy life? Huge overdraft? No. Bills we can’t pay? No. Hiding from the Postman? No.

Would we rather a big car or good friends? Kids who have everything or kids who are happy?
Loving husband or new pair of shoes? (OK, that last’s a tough one.)

For a while there, we were persuaded that the road to eternal happiness lay in buying lots of stuff we didn’t need and couldn’t afford. The credit was never real money, so we had this hallucination that the debts wouldn’t be counted in real money either.

(If Jesus got upset by the Romans turning his Father’s house into a temple of money-lenders, you can’t help wondering what he would make of todays banks, not to mention ”futures” markets and hedge funds?)

Except that deep down we knew that there must be a glitch in the argument. All that time we were in denial we were also a bit scared which is why it feels good, albeit dull, to find that we’re back in the real world now. Greed and acquisition, fun for a while (and motivating) are the opposite of contentment.

Christmas is a good time to make the re-adjustment. Don’t feel pressured into going for one last bank-account-emptying spree. Ditch the glitz and try and squeeze a drop of spirituality out of this most family-centred of festivities. Make it a challenge to see how much warmth and laughter you can create with as little cash as possible. This issue is devoted to helping you do this.
And thank your lucky stars no-one’s giving you the Chanel tote this Christmas! It would just make you look naff.

Happy real Christmas!

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The last of our eight unplanned puppies is about to head off for her new home. They have cost a fortune in time and puppy meat. We’ve spent hours clearing s*** and washing floors It’ll be a relief to see the back of them. And sad.

They’ve given us two priceless insights into our lives. First, if your days are too busy to stop and have a tug of war with a puppy or take it into your arms for a time-wasting, heart-warming cuddle then you need to re-evaluate your priorities. Second - when did any of us dreary adult humans last greet a new day with the sheer, tail-wagging delight with which they pour out of their pen on a cold, frosty morning?

The December Rendezvous is out

The December issue of the Rendezvous is out and being distributed. Please pick up your free copy at one of our regular distribution points - or subscribe to enter prize-draws and receive the magazine ahead of everybody else.