Piling into the agent's

Piling into the agent's car at the appointed hour, the pair of them sped across the ancient salt marsh towards a church tower far away on the horizon. Fifteen minutes later they rolled down a dusty sunny street into a village, and came to a stop at a huge pair of gates, covered in ancient peeling paint. Beyond the gates lay a driveway bordered with hedges, and a garden that stretched as far as the eye could see. My husband told me later that he'd known instantly this was to be our home. The house belonged to a family that had been there for generations. The old woman had gone to a nursing home near Paris, the interior was a time warp. In one room, upstairs, a shelf groaned under the weight of every Paris Match ever printed, books stood in stacks, covered in dust. In the attic, boxes of scientific journals going back a hundred years lay ready for serious study, and each room seemed to live on a different level, steps leading up and down like a rabbit's warren of dark and shuttered spaces. The outbuilding turned out to be the old farm manager's cottage, complete with a kitchen and bathroom untouched for decades. But despite the long grass and unkempt appearance, he knew this would be a good home for a large family. The garden even came with a sun-dappled set of childrens' swings - a proper set, proud and tall with room for three siblings. After a frantic night of phone calls and photos, I put it all in his hands, and told him it was his decision. The next morning he rang the agent made his offer, and agreed to sign the papers at lunchtime. At half-past two, as he sat at a desk in the agent’s office, scrawling his signature across the contract, the phone on the table rang. It was the people who had seen the house first, wanting to put in an offer; but they were too late, the ink had already dried. Two hours later, he drove back to his chambres d'hôtes in a daze, a copy of a power of attorney in one hand, the sale papers in the other, and two weeks to pay the deposit. When he rang me, the children whooped with excitement and my eyes grew moist with elation. We were going to France. Find out how life is in France for Susan and family at her blog: Our French Oasis

Find your dream home in La Rochelle La Rochelle is a great place to live, it's known as the sunniest town of the South West of France says local property agent Elinor Murless. The historical old port of La Rochelle is a lovely place to sit and relax watching the world go by with lots of great restaurants and bars. There's plenty to do all year round. The different architectural styles of La Rochelle give it a really special feel, it’s very atmospheric and picturesque. For nature fans, living around La Rochelle is ideal because of its proximity with the Atlantic coast, the Marais Poitevin and the Vendée. You can even island hop here as the Iles de Ré, Aix and Oléron are just a short ride away. To sum up, the living is good, there are lots of brilliant beaches, traditional villages, the benefits of city life plus nature reserves on your doorstep. Plus the people are really friendly! I would say to that by living close to La Rochelle, you really have so much choice for your French lifestyle – there’s something here to suit every dream… Large family home with 4 bedrooms on a big wooded garden with a small pond. €304,950 CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS Beautiful farmhouse with 6 bedrooms in a quiet hamlet, on beautiful garden, spa and sauna 20km from La Rochelle center. € 478,000 CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS Splendid Manoir style house with tennis court, swimming pool and guest house, large garden with streams. €880,000 CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS Elinor's Property Portfolio, Leggett Immobillier