House #33: The Germans have landed

Even though we really liked the house yesterday, and even though we're probably gonna buy it, we still met up with Steve this morning to complete our scheduled visits. And he drove us in his very comfortable Jaguar through the burgeoning and verdant countryside, through vineyards and woods, gorgeous villages and open fields, to our next house.

It was in a town called Allemand du Dropt, which says to me that this is where the German paratroopers came plummeting earthward back in the day, armed to the teeth and ready to watch the French roll over like poodles. But it turns out that this village is actually on the river Dropt. Where the Allemand part comes from, I have no idea, but it was in fact a perfect little village, with everything you need including markets and cafes, and charming and old and stone. If only the house from yesterday were in this village instead...

And so we came to the house, which actually sat in the heart of the village, literally 20 meters from the school. We were met there by the ageing couple who were vending the place, and shown into their garden.

It was a nice garden, actually, mostly on the back of the house, which faced west. It was well-tended and had flowers and fruits. Kepler picked himself some strawberries. And there was a well.

Then we went inside. Very tidy kitchen, I won't bore you with pictures. And then through a small passage, a spread of living/dining area, all very tidy as well.

Beyond this was a second enclosed and secluded garden, with a table and a barbecue, which was pretty cool, very private. This gave onto the garage, which was a garage. then we went back through the living room and up the stairs. Yada yada. Two tidy bedrooms, but then also a very strange games room, complete with a French billiard table. The kind with no pockets. The nice man assured me that because of the difficulty of moving it out, the table would be staying in the house when they leave. Yippee. I love pocket-free pool.

And yet again I have to ask: what is it with the French and pink bathrooms?

Jeesh. So then we went and checked out the attic, which was half-finished in 70's brown-speckled shag carpet and half-unfinished in beautiful wood flooring and exposed beams.

And then we left.

It was a nice house. It was in a great village. It had some nice garden space. But it didn't have any magic, any goofiness, any fun. And there was really no work left for us to do.

Back in the car, we explained our feelings about the house to Steve, and conversation naturally turned, by way of comparison, to the house of yesterday. Lots of building questions, could we do this or that, and also general questions about the way the negotiation process typically works. As far as building, Steve is the man to know. He's a builder, he knows all the people you need to know, he can schedule them quicker than we could get anything done, and he's willing to manage projects for us. Sweet. He takes a percentage of the building costs, and that percentage could drop dramatically if we're willing to pay him through a British bank account. No problems there.

So the long and short of it is that we have another viewing of the house on Saturday morning, when we can walk through and actually discuss what we'd want to do and what it would cost. It all feels very real. We're very possibly going to make an offer on this house next week. Finally.

A word about Steve: I get a good vibe from him. He seems very earnest, and very knowledgable about the properties he sells, not like a desperate realtor, but like a builder who knows what to do with houses. He sees the properties as real possibilities, and that's helpful. He has all the experience you could want in altering buildings, and working with municipal building commissions. And I have to say that, especially compared to John and "S", he doesn't seem overeager or pressured at all. He's doing pretty well for himself. He owns vineyards, some of which he pointed out to us during our drive. He lives in a vast 2000 sq m home, which he has rehabbed himself from an ancient chateau annex. He's very comfortable. The whole real estate thing happenned because he was tired of breathing dust and getting his hands dirty after 15 years, and an old friend of his asked him to try this job on for a while. It's a good situation. We don't feel like he's willing to say anything to make a sale. At least so far.

While we drove and talked, we all came to the conclusion that based upon our reaction to the house we'd just seen, there was no need to see the next house on the schedule. And that seems actually very correct to me: we want an atypical house, something with a rare goofy style. The chances of Steve having two houses very interesting to us would be very small indeed. So he cancelled the meeting, and instead drove us back through the village where yesterday's house lives. And it looks nicer than I had thought. Still no real community cafe, and no obvious action, but lots of swingsets, some very nice houses, and a small public library. This could be a go, I think.

So Saturday it is. Let's take another look.