14. Canal du Midi and Narbonne

We were awoken in the early hours by mechanical noises which upon investigation turned out to be a tractor filtering the sand on the beach in front of the hotel. Despite the disturbance we were impressed by the efforts being made to keep the beaches clean.

In the morning we drove to the Railway Station in Narbonne itself, following signs for ‘La Gare’, which we easily found. Our new agent, Mr. Puffin was a little late, but seemed to know the area well. It turned out that he like the first agent we had met, was married to a French woman, though it was not clear whether or not he had an occupation, other than selling houses to the English.

During the course of the day we saw a number of houses in villages in the Narbonne area, including three with views of the canal du Midi, in villages to the West of Capestang. The first was ready to move into, but was very small.

Two larger ones in another village, were undergoing extensive renovation, including the construction of roof terraces. One way houses with no gardens were being made more appealing, was by removing part of the roof to create an open area. This of course required that the floor be strengthened and then be sealed against the elements. The house prices were within our range even when the projected cost of the work was taken into account.

However estimates or projections are just that, especially when provided by someone keen to make a sale. In reality we could have been signing up to an open ended commitment. I liked this agent. He was taking us seriously, probably because he was attired as casually as we were. I didn’t get the feeling he would deliberately cheat us. But it seemed that the cost of the work was no more within his control than it was in ours.

We drove back towards Narbonne and turned left following a narrow road to another village, Frasquenet. Here we viewed a house that was still occupied by it’s owner. Actually he was at work but his wife showed us around. A lot of work had been done. It had a well equipped fitted kitchen. I saw Jane’s eyes light up. Then we were shown into the back yard and were lead down some steep stone steps to the ground level of the ‘Barn’. This contained a huge concrete wine tank with two compartments and enough space to accommodate several cars.

‘The left tank is for red and the other for white’, Mr. Puffin quipped. Now, my eyes lit up.

At this point, I should explain that another dream of mine was to own a couple of classic car wrecks and restore them. I already had an impossible ‘Triumph Stag’ project, housed in the garage in North West London. One of the reasons it was impossible, was because once the ‘Stag’ was in the narrow garage, there was hardly enough space on each side to open the doors, in order to get into or out of it. Also length wise it fitted the garage with only about six inches to spare. This meant it had to be worked on in the driveway, which given the weather in England, meant it had to be a summer project. Of course with summer days being so few and precious, working on a rusty car was the last thing one wanted to be doing.

This garage could have accommodated three ‘Stags’ with plenty of space to spare. Of course I didn’t consider that since I would only be here a few weeks a year, the project would move no quicker here than it would in England. As I’ve said before, most non French people buying houses in France are chasing dreams. I was no exception.

The owners had a daughter slightly older than Sarah. They couldn’t converse, but they both played together contentedly with a Barbie doll and a pink plastic palace with towers topped by conical roofs, where Barbie apparently lived.

We bade our farewells and headed back through Narbonne to Fluery. After parking the car we had some lunch and then viewed another very small house. It was between the motorway and the sea This property was by far the closest to the sea, of all those we viewed. It had a roof terrace, but from this vantage point the main view was of the busy autoroute, which passed close by.

We returned to Narbonne and viewed another property in the town centre. This property was a dark dingy place, although very conveniently placed for the shops and restaurants. I guessed the occupants were tenants. I could sense some hostility, not normally associated with an owner keen to sell. Screaming babies, I don’t mind. After all Sarah was not much older than a baby herself, but I didn’t much enjoy picking my way through their discarded, soiled nappies, which festooned the floor. However visiting this property had got us into the centre of town and made us realise what a wonderful place Narbonne is.

By the end of the afternoon, we decided that we had hunted enough, both Jane and I agreed that we would choose from one of the houses we had seen that day. We arranged to meet Mr. Puffin again the next morning.

We followed the agent’s recommendation and booked into a hotel in the town centre. It was a hotel which unusually, only offered accommodation. In some ways this was a pity. The bedroom was superbly furnished in a classic antique French style. The bathroom sported a marble washbasin with enormous brass taps. I felt that had these people run a restaurant, it would have been the epitome of elegance. On the plus side we were forced to explore the town further for somewhere to eat. We were pleased with the venue we chose, which was less than a five minute walk from the hotel.

During dinner, the pros and cons of each property were chewed over. The houses with a view of the canal would be newly renovated and had roof terraces. On the other hand they did not have garages or gardens. The house in Fluery, although nearer the sea than the others was very small and the stairs were very steep, which would be dangerous for Sarah at her age.

The one at Frasquenet while not perfect, had a small yard, huge garage, three bedrooms, mains sewerage, running water, electricity, a recently fitted kitchen and enough loft space to make three more bedrooms if required.

It really came down to choosing the view or the space. Jane favoured Frasquenet because of its nearness to Narbonne, which she reasoned would help keep her investment more intact, than a property in a village where the younger locals were moving away to the towns. After dinner a walk around Narbonne, with its ancient unfinished Cathedral, narrow streets with restaurants, Parisian style boutiques and general Southern ambience, re-enforced the feeling that this was the right place for our second home.