Our House is Certainly Not in Paris by Susan Cutsforth

black boots. There is some confusion in translation when I tell Dominique what I’m looking for as she thinks they are to wear while working in le jardin . Since they usually only ever see me in my battered gardening attire, I can understand the confusion though it is a rather odd concept. I assure her that this is not the case but rather for when I go to work at my lycée at home. I always like the sound of my job in French as a teacher in a school library; I think it has a rather grand ring to it: enseignant dans une bibliothèque de l’école.
    Fortunately for Stuart, the two-hour lunch break that still exists in our region, means there will not be endless browsing. While in Paris and the south of France, the luxury of a long leisurely lunch has been phased out, it is one of the things we most love.
    While it often means certain adjustments to our daily routine, when we too have time to indulge in a two-hour lunch, there is nothing in the world quite like it. Stuart also has to be back in time to meet Françoise to play bridge in Souillac. Last year, on one of his endless bricolage trips, he completely forgot the bridge plans he had made with her. Not this year; this year everything is different. I manage to dash in and out of a few shops and hastily grab a few bargains, then the sacred lunch hour descends. Shutters are closed, doors are locked and a quiet reverence for cuisine settles over the once bustling shops of Brive.
    While the shops did not hold my coveted boots, it was enjoyable to finally have more time this year to stroll around Brive and explore its architectural beauty. As with every city, town, village and hamlet in France, there is also a strong sense of history.
    During World War II, Brive-la-Gaillarde was a regional capital of the Résistance , and was the base for a number of clandestine information networks and several of the main Résistance movements, including the Armée secrète (or ‘Secret Army’) and the Mouvements Unis de la Résistance – the ‘United Movement of the Résistance’ . Now, the medieval centre is full of shops, restaurants and cafés . It is a far cry from the days of spies, secrecy and subterfuge.
    I remembered the story of Madame Jouve who lived in Cuzance and was accused of being a collaborator. With other women, she was taken to Brive to be paraded in the streets as a traitor. The cobblestones we walk upon would have been witness to events that we simply cannot conceive.
    After just a few hours and a taste of city life, we were glad to once again return to the peace and quiet of life in Cuzance. well, maybe not all is entirely different this year. Let’s not forget there is still work to do – a lot of it. The renovation is still far from complete.
    It’s not all shopping trips, indulgent déjeuners and apéritifs. Jean-Claude has told us there is a maçon working on the house opposite them. He has already kindly organised a quote from another maçon for a bathroom window. He had left the previous quote inside Pied de la Croix for our return. He has now discussed with their neighbour’s maçon to give us another quote. It is just as hard to get artisans in France as anywhere in the world, so we are grateful when the four of us squash into our salle de bain to measure and discuss where my longed-for window will go.
    However, while hopes were high for this maçon and a window for this summer, once again, the oft-repeated phrase of ‘ Non, non,’ rings out in our petite bathroom. It would seem that he too is fully committed before his summer vacances . I can’t begin to imagine the difference that one day, having light and air will mean. For the moment, it remains an airless, dark box. It looks like it is going to stay that way for quite some time. Mind you, the fact that it is perpetually dim means that despite my exhausted appearance when I do renovate, the mirror is deceptively flattering.