October 25th 2011
We fill the hours with the usual chores: housekeeping tasks for 42rvh are keeping me busy and Debrah is planning her next UK work trip.
We walk out to the small Tuesday market and take a coffee at Chez Felix in the Place Carnot. There is no wind and the Autumn sun has us peeling off our top layers as we sit back and gaze at the cloudless blue sky through the orangey brown leaves of the plane trees.
Time stands still for a blissful few peaceful minutes.
But those are just diversions from what is really occupying our thoughts – the completion meeting scheduled for 5pm at the notaire’s office at 35 rue de Lorraine – the completion meeting that will confirm that we now own two French properties and are indebted to a French bank for a not insubstantial sum of money.
As this day has drawn closer, the reality of what we are about to embark upon has become more evident. The awe of our first viewing back in April, the immediate excitement of the possibilities, the negotiation, the commitment of the ‘compromis de vente’, the planning, the design – all are suddenly distant, replaced by the knowledge that after this meeting there is no turning back. It will no longer be a dream, an idea, a future – it will be for real.
We are the first to arrive at the notaire’s office, followed by the vendors (keen to complete), the two agents (wanting their slice of pie) and the notaries (performing their official duties).
It is a very French affair. The lead notaire reads aloud from the ‘acte de vente’, looking towards each relevant party as she seeks agreement and assurance to the contents of the document. My contact at the office is away on holiday, which is the most awful bad timing from my point of view – the fact that I have been through the document once already with my contact, my limited grasp of French and the assistance of my good friend Nicole combine to keep me abreast of most of what is being said. Debrah and Michael (my agent) lose interest and chat together in the background.
There are various comings and goings as copies of documents are made and cheques are made out and then we all have to sign a 53 page document on every page. As I initial away my life I think about the process in the UK where one waits for a lawyer to call you to say it’s done and an agent to hand you some keys – so very different from this reverential, and solemn passing of title and goods from one person to another. Somehow the French way brings home the importance of the occasion – if only I could be sure I understood all that took place!
I was in fact somewhat surprised to be handed a cheque for a lovely amount of euros. This should have been used to settle the outstanding balance on my existing French mortgage and I knew it was a mistake that would lead to some anguished tooing and froing between the bank and the notaire and me. For all the solemnity and bureaucracy they still managed to fuck it up between them, didn’t they!
Despite that, we all shook hands and we all kissed. The vendors were very, very sweet in wishing us a lovely life in a home that they have many happy memories of and they handed us a pile of keys including the ridiculously large and impractical front door key that is pictured here.
We wandered home in somewhat of a daze.
Michael and Nicole came round to 42rvh with a bottle of champagne and much enthusiasm for barbecues and pool days at our new house. It was great to spend a relaxed few hours with them. It helped to take our minds off the enormity of what we have done and the task ahead, and their excitement at the possibilities and opportunities renewed our enthusiasm for the task ahead.