Browsing Posts published in June, 2011


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So as I was saying there aren’t too many places here that will require formalwear. Just in case you think I’m prone to exaggeration, which I have denied a thousand times, I want to show you something that will forever prove that I have truly gone native.

As you drive into Semur this little guy is one of the first locals you will see. He lives in this field, actually in this very spot, right next to the Citroen dealership where we bought the blue bubble. Well maybe little guy is not exactly accurate. Continue reading “Bullshot” »


Ah yes, the miracle of moving continues. It was a big day at the housette, appliance delivery. In case you haven’t heard already, these Europeans don’t leave much behind so there was simply no way around the big ticket items like a fridge and a washer and thanks be to all that is holy, a dishwasher (or in Rusty’s case, a TV).

Now I’m no stranger to this appliance delivery drama. We’ve had to do it for every house we’ve ever done and it never fails to elicit the pleasure of say…a root canal. We’ve had it all, stoves arriving smashed, Grand Canyonesque gouges in newly sanded floors but the one that put me over the edge took place just before we left Canada. Continue reading “Service With A Sourire” »


Tour De Francis

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It’s funny how things work out in this life. Last year when we first came to Semur on vacation I remember our first walk through the village and seeing a house that literally stopped me in my tracks. Every time I passed it I felt happy, now I see it every day.

But what makes me really happy is that we’ve become friends with the owner of this magical place and he’s even lovelier than his home. Warning: excessive drooling may occur.

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We’re still living at the house on the river and the plan is to gradually move over to the housette by the end of the month. Given that we still don’t have a dish to our name it’s the only way to go. So while it’s still empty have a look.

That is the entire living room, dining room and kitchen. Cozy is the word du jour alright. Continue reading “Avant” »


Well they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks but I’m here to tell you this old bitch has been fetching and rolling over like there’s no tomorrow. While the French is all but abandoned due to maison madness, I’m making up for it in knowledge of the complexities of French tenancy. That’s right my friends, I’m a woman who has signed on the dotted lines.

Now I say lines because there were many. I’ve bought lots of houses in the past, two before I met Neil and I can safely say that I’ve never been asked for my autograph as much as for sealing the deal on the housette. The lease itself was about 60 odd pages, each of which had to be signed and the diagnostic report (as in your house is not suffering from termitis infestationus) was just as long.

It’s quite official here, done through the local notaire, a dapper, straight out of the movies French gentleman who sat with us in an office, also straight out of the movies, and explained the lease line by line. Unfortunately this little film was sorely lacking in subtitles. Do you have any idea how much smiling is involved to fake understanding 65 pages of French legalese? I looked like the Joker for the rest of the day, my face still hurts. Continue reading “A New Lease On Life” »


Still Middle Aged

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Some of you will know this already but I was born and raised (to an alarming height) in St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador, also known as ‘town’. Ah St. John’s, home of fog, the Gut, Ches’s Fish and Chips, me mudder and to the longest continuously running sporting event in North America, the Royal St. John’s Regatta. Of this we townies are pretty proud and I think this year will be the 193rd, what I affectionately call, Regretta (beer tent, oily hot dogs, every person you’ve ever known in your whole life, need I say more?).

Alright the Regretta is pretty old but how about the oldest horse race in France? Right on the heels or in this case the hooves (god I slay me) of the medieval festival comes the Fête de la Bague right here in my little ville. Since 1639 they’ve been at this, 1639! If you think Paris is mired in dog merde you should have seen Semur last night, actually you didn’t even have to look, a deep inhale would have done the trick.

It’s a huge deal. The streets are filled to capacity with people from all over France. There are hundreds of stalls selling the usual type of market fare but also ones offering the somewhat unexpected. I suppose no medieval horse race would be complete without these:

Oh now this is right up my alley. Screw finding a hairstylist, all I need is a couple of these and I’m good to go. And speaking of manes, check out these lovelies:

Continue reading “Still Middle Aged” »

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