Ask a question, get an answer

Well, we asked for it: information. This afternoon at 3pm sharp, we met "S" for our appointment with the city planner. We had come armed with a long list of questions, regarding what we could do to the house, what we could do to the remise, whar development was planned for nearby, everything.

And this guy had a pile of answers. But unfortunately, they weren't the answers we really wanted to hear.

Specifically, it turned out that Graham's land is zoned for Natural Reserve. Which could be a good thing were the buildings just the way we liked them. But in our case, the upshot, contrary to what "S" and Graham had both told us, is that we can't do anything of substance to change the remise. No plumbing. No water. No bathroom. No major rehab. No conversion to habitation. And a complete tear-down? No way.

It seems odd that the French government's idea of conservation somehow involves protecting a cinderblock box that couldn't have been more than 15 years old, but there it was, in black and white, in the regulation book. Oddly, we'd be able to extend the floorspace of the remise by 20%, but we'd still have to keep it uninhabitable. Strange. And disappointing. The most fun and creative part of the whole property out of bounds.

This cut the habitable space on the land by 26%, which was crushing for our plans, but there was other bad news to come. The project across the river was still in its planning phases, and so the nice man at the mayor's office couldn't give us any clear idea of what was to be built in our immediate view. But it was to be something big, including commerce and residential, a major development, once plans had been agreed upon. And, no doubt, it would have lit up our otherwise relatively starry night sky. D'oh. Over that, I'd rather abandoned industrial buildings.

So let's review: the house is too small, and architecturally inflexible. The compensation for this was to be the fun of rebuilding the remise, thereby gaining an atelier and a third bedroom. Which we can't do. The view, while essentially pretty but still a bit of an issue, could become dramatically worse, not including years of loud and disruptive construction. The house is covered in shadow by 7 pm every evening, and when it does get dark, we might not have any stars anyway. Hmmm.

S could tell the project was dead in the water, but she didn't say anything. We emailed her to tell her we didn't want it. In consolation I also mentioned that our current budget was nearly double what Graham's house costs. She hasn't replied. Is she pissed off? I dunno. Not my problem, really, since all I did was ask to discover that she had misinformed me about the property to begin with. But I'd prefer to keep things easy.

So what now? Well, the car saga keeps dragging on... we have Hydrangea, and by next Tuesday she should be ship-shaped, legally ours, insured, and ready to go. And so, I suppose, will we. There are thousands of properties out there, and our roadtrip to the UK should reveal a lot about what other regions we should be considering.

And for all the misgivings I have about Lodève, Sarah and I will both miss it here. We've been here for three months now. Kepler is loving school three days a week. We run into people we know on the street. The terrain is amazing in all directions.

But the rest of France is big, and presumably beautiful too. We'll see.