The Good Life France Magazine




The Good Life France Magazine brings you the best of France - inspirational and exclusive features, fabulous photos, mouth-watering recipes, tips, guides, ideas and much more...


Published by the award winning team at The Good Life France

Views
11 months ago

Issue No. 16

Bringing you the best of France including captivating towns like sunny Montpellier, L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, the antiques capital of Provence, Gascony, Chateaux of the Loire Valley, Paris, Lyon, a long lost cheese story, mouth-watering recipes and a whole lot more.

The idea began, as most

The idea began, as most good ideas do, in the pub. Rebecca Randall, a criminal barrister and husband Greg who works in the City came to the realisation that they didn’t want to be commuting to and working in London until they reached 70. They talk to Janine Marsh about their plans for the good life in Dordogne...

“Several glasses in and one of us (we still aren’t sure who to blame) came up with the bright idea of moving to France and setting up a gite business. Brilliant. Easy. What could possibly go wrong?” Rebecca had spent time in France as an au pair when she was young. Greg had been on a boys’ holiday to Le Touquet. “I had done French at A Level. My husband could order a beer. We were clearly well equipped to make an incisive, life-changing decision” Rebecca laughs. They did though do considerable and indepth research of the kind that involves holidays staying in chateaux, drinking wine and sitting by a pool. They decided that the Dordogne was the region for them and that they could afford to buy somewhere that needed a little bit of renovation. “We thought we could cope with maybe a new bathroom or kitchen, but nothing – repeat, nothing – major”. They drove thousands of kilometres but there was nothing that got their hearts racing and butterflies fluttering. That is, nothing until a rainy, miserable day in March 2016. “On a dull, wet morning we saw an incredibly beautiful house with a large gite. It was designed to perfection and we wouldn’t have had to so much as lift a paintbrush. I wanted it. In the afternoon, our agent persuaded us to go and see one more property that she had on her books. It was a Mill and she uttered the fateful words, “you need a bit of vision” - and my heart sank. Nevertheless, off we went to see Moulin de Fontalbe. We got lost on the way and had a small marital disagreement. By the time we finally drove though the gates I was in no mood to have vision for anything, apart from a glass of wine.