New life in the Dordogne, buying property in France, moving to and working in the Dordogne, just when you think things can't get any worse, they do

The following morning I was the last to wake and wandered out of the bedroom to find Julia mopping up the water in the kitchen. The Dordogne sunshine was streaming through the open doorway and I could hear the children laughing and playing somewhere in the distance. We wandered outside together and looked at the view across the Dordogne countryside we now had to call home and I decided that the first thing I had to do was cut the grass with our inadequate hover mover.

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Whilst Julia drove into the village to buy some light bulbs and bread, I wandered round the property surveying the work needed to make it at least habitable. At more than 400sq. meters with additional barns, there was plenty of potential but with no building experience and no money, I realised the task in hand was immense. The grass was too wet to cut so I started to carry the more manageable pieces of furniture into the house.

Taking a break and whilst standing on an elevated part of the garden and trying to spot where the tiles were missing on the roof, I heard a tractor coming down our lane. The farmer seemed surprised to see me and pulled up beside me and without switching off the engine started talking and gesturing to me. With my limited French and with most of what he was saying being drown out by the idling motor I was unable to ascertain what he was saying; so I cupped my hand to my ear to indicate I couldn't hear him.

Leaving the engine running, he jumped down and walked towards to me and shook my hand warmly as if we were long lost friends; at which point Julia drove up and joined us. Grabbing her by both shoulders he pulled her to him and kissed her four times on the cheek, then held her at arms length and made what I assumed were compliments; then turned to me and continued talking in his fast and incomprehensible dialect.

• Buying property in France
  
  
• Moving to the Dordogne in France
  
  
• Buying property in the Dordogne
  
  
• Living in the Dordogne
  
  
• Investing in property in the Dordogne
  
  
• Setting up a Gites business

I managed to grasp that he was offering to cut our grass so I pulled my pockets inside out to indicate that I had no money, to which he just laughed and jumped back on his tractor and drove off. He must have stood and chatted to me for twenty minutes whilst I nodded and replied with the occasional "Oui" and "d'accord."

As he drove off, Julia asked "What did he say?" "I have absolutely no idea" I replied and wandered back to the van to continue carrying our belongings into the house.

By late afternoon we had managed to unload the van and trailer when we heard the farmer coming down the lane again. This time he had a contraption on the back of his tractor which was obviously used for cutting grass and who turned out to be his son, sitting precariously on the back clutching a strimmer. Pleasantries and introductions made, he set about cutting our grass whilst his son walked round the building strimming the grass he couldn't reach with his tractor. A job that would have taken me days with my hover mower was finished in a couple of hours and with a wave they were gone. The next day he returned to turn the grass over to ensure it dried thoroughly and the following day was back with a bailer and trailer to remove the hay.

• Self-catering accommodation in the Dordogne
  
  
• Dordogne Estate agents
  
  
• Bed and breakfast accommodation in France
  
  
• Cheap car hire in France
  
  
• Property for sale in France
  
  
• Low cost ferries to France
  
  
• Cheap removals to France
  
  
• Furniture storage in the Dordogne
  
  
• Cheap Euro mortgages
  
  
• Discount airport parking
  
  
• Travel insurance
  
  
• Best currency exchange rates

I now know that the bails of hay were adequate payment for his efforts but at the time I was incredibly grateful for this act of kindness. Over the coming weeks and months the locals were to show us many acts of kindness and I know we would never have survived the early years in the Dordogne without their help and support. Times were going to be incredibly hard over the early years and there were many times when I wondered why I had moved my family to the Dordogne.

A friend of mine who is on the Prefecture recently told me that the biggest problem British ex-pats face in the Dordogne is poverty. They sell their houses in the UK and move to France with little idea about how to earn a living and little determination to work hard or do anything demeaning; and when their savings run out many move back to the UK. The rest turn to the French social security system in order to survive. When they tell him about their financial problems and how much money they had when they first came, he tells them about a mad Englishman who came to the Dordogne almost twenty years ago, with three young children and just 7000 francs in his pocket and how he was willing to do anything in order to survive.

To be continued...