Real Life: From the University of Kent to Pyrenees-Atlantiques

The fates were against Gary and Pauline Marshall moving to France, but finally the couple prevailed…

In July 2021, Pauline and I arrived at what may be our final destination (well, the one before we fly, hopefully, skywards). Our journey began 11 years earlier, back in 2012 when we lived in St- Margaret’s-at-Cliffe, a Kentish village nestled on the edge of the White Cliffs overlooking what we Brits call the English Channel – with direct views of the clock tower in Calais on a very clear day. Little did we know that our journey would be turbulent, challenging at best, and end at the beautiful Bearnaise village of Morlanne in the Pyrénées-Atlantiques. We had never heard of the village before and possibly, until the publication of this article, it was one of the best kept secrets in France.

Despite my good fortune as a teenager of holidaying each year near Fréjus on the French Riviera, I had never planned to move across the Channel, although I have lived and worked in exciting far-flung places. Then, in 2012, Pauline and I took an extended break in Corrèze. I had recently walked out of a job, intending to enjoy the moment before redefining my work life. It just happened, more by fate than design, that my ‘moment’ developed into an almost permanent sabbatical: yes, I’m still on it… While in Corrèze, we experienced one of those holiday ‘thoughts’ enjoyed by many but usually forgotten within days of returning home ‘let’s move over here permanently’. Back in the UK, our holiday thought lingered, in fact, it grew into a well- devised and researched plan (all of which eventually fell by the wayside, primarily because we’re both instinctive creatures rather than cautious). So far, so good.

Between 2012 and 2015, life took us on a journey which should have ended with a move to France in April 2015. Pauline being a wonderful wife, licensed me to travel numerous times alone to France in search of our private paradise. During these forays into rural splendour, I would hunt for the perfect location while sampling local wines and culinary teases, and thereafter continue my search again.

Every now and then, I would locate our personal ideal and return to it a little later, with Pauline and the dogs in tow. During this period, we also suffered the most appalling family tragedies, but I think they sharpened our resolve to find a home across the Channel.

CHANGE OF PLANS

In April 2015 we were almost set. We had organised a temporary rental in Gers, arranged our health insurance, taken family out for farewell evenings, and completed stage one of selling our home in Kent. Sadly, the day after exchanging contracts was ill-fated.

Pauline attended a hospital appointment and we were told to cancel our France plans. She had been diagnosed with a rare cancer. Our lives had been turned inside out. But we got on with it. Pauline was amazing or “stoic” to quote her surgeon. I was angry on her behalf. Having committed to selling up, we needed a temporary home. Luckily, one of Pauline’s brothers who lived in Switzerland owned a bolthole in Sandwich in Kent which served as a resting place while Pauline was exposed to weeks of hideous treatment.

We swapped our maps of France for those of England and our pin landed on a beautiful village in the Lincolnshire Wolds. Most surprised to find dramatic hills in Lincolnshire, we moved there, later moving to a wonderful home in Norfolk within a comfortable distance of the fine city of Norwich. We were content there. So, what ruined it? Pauline did! One day, while I was typing away in my study, she stood in the doorway and asked: “Do you want to move to France?”

So, it started all over again! I jumped on this opportunity. The end of the Brexit transition period was nigh so there was much to do, including selling our house.

The next important date was 15 December 2020. Covid restrictions prohibiting entry into France had just been lifted, but the authorities were threatening to reimpose them within days, which did indeed happen. Unperturbed, we were queuing for the Channel Tunnel when our train was cancelled, not once but many times, causing us to fear we wouldn’t reach France before the end of the year.

This time we had a little luck and arrived at our temporary digs in northern France to a rather annoyed landlady who didn’t seem to understand that our tardiness was not our fault. If anyone should have complained, however, it was us. Even as a near destitute student I wouldn’t have rented such a place, but the near squalor at a high rent incentivised us to find our new home quickly!

RESIDENCY WRANGLES

Between 15 December 2020 and July 2021, there was much to do to establish our residency which was made more difficult than needed by our landlady prohibiting any internet connection. What could have been a relatively easy time applying for residency cards, re-registering my car, opening bank accounts, understanding the income tax system and completing French tax returns and more on a laptop became a fight, normally against myself as I cursed too frequently, attempting these formalities on a smart phone with a near non-existent signal.

Before planting my flag on these shores, I had been concerned about fighting my way through the much- discussed bureaucratic nightmare said to be prevalent throughout France. Fortunately, the stories of completing every form in triplicate and then again several times over was an exaggeration. Yes, there were problems partly due to cultural and linguistic differences. Overall, however, most problems were simply down to my ignorance and were overcome by discussing them with whomever was overseeing my applications. Everyone I have dealt with has been charming, helpful and patient, except on the rare occasion when the bureaucrat has been hidden from view by the faceless internet.

The next major hurdle was the process to buy our Morlanne home. Luckily this was simplified with help of a notaire in our nearest city, Pau, which incidentally has a lovely and eclectic mix of French, Bearnaise and Spanish architecture, while its wonderful boulevard offers stunning views of the Pyrénées mountains.

Our notaire had sufficient English language skills to explain some of the tricky points of the legal documents. He was even courteous enough to spend an hour or so with me discussing the French legal system as he noticed my interest in the law. There were other problems along the way, but these have been overshadowed by our good life here; had it been otherwise, we wouldn’t have stayed. I hope to tell you about Morlanne life in another article, with its rich music culture and its festivals, its warm and friendly people, its evening market, its wonderful views of the Pyrénées and, of course, the local goats…

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