So It starts

This is the story of the renovation of  a ruin in central Brittany by Bentley and Mrs Bentley or as they have become known to themselves Billy and Jentley (and the answer is no, neither knows which is which)

The posts are put up arse backwards as far as I can work out as I want the first post here and then the story follows on the pages to come, just like a book, however due to my inability to get the blog to read that way you will have to get used to it like this whereby this is the first post and then it goes backwards in time with the last post first.
I am ballbagged if I can understand why that should be and if anyone knows how to change it please let me know,

I am happy to discuss any element of the build so please feel free to ask or comment.
I am writing this as of 16th December 2012 and we are about three fifths of the way through the renovation and have already started the basic work on project number two (see separate blog)

I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as we are enjoying doing it.       

Who are we?
I am Bentley 55 year old specialist ship handler in the Merchant Navy. Currently employed in the Gulf of Thailand on a 6 week on and off rotation. In short I get to drive multi million pound vessels in critical situations and I thoroughly enjoy my job and the 6 months year I have off. 
Building experience was limited to some interior DIY projects on our own homes, however I am practical, solution minded, ethusiastic and always prepared to expand my knowledge and skills base. 
Mrs B is 52, a Psychotherapist / Counselor and has worked for many years with vulnerable children and had her own private practice. She began to specialise in Play Therapy and the emotional freedom technique however has since stopped any therapeutic work to concentrate on her art projects and tghe completeion of our renovation projects. 

Building experience, none apart from assisting Bentley on some of the mentioned interior work. She has an “artist’s eye” for detail, colour and texture and their relationship to each other. 
We are the proud parents of two vibrant young adults in their early 20’s (one of each), a Jack Russell that thinks it’s human and a cat that considers itself to be a king and expects to be treating accordingly.


Our first visit to France, together, was in autumn ‘87 after we had won a three day hotel and train break to Paris. 
We stayed in a small back street hotel near the Louvre, and spent our days wandering hand in hand around St Germain, eating and drinking in the cafes as well as an inspiring visit to the Museum of Modern Art in the Pomidou Centre. We were indifferent to the infamous “indifference” of the Parisians as we ate, drank and loved our way through three wonderful, romantic days.

Our next stay was in the spring of ’90. We rented a house in village called Douale west of Cahors on the Lot. We enjoyed two weeks of sunshine and gentle relaxation in a beautiful river frontage setting with our toddler and our babe in arms. 

Next, (and after a lot of water under the bridges of the Lot), we had a week in Brittany in ‘99 on a “cottage and ferry deal” through Brittany Ferries. 
I vividly remember being enthralled by the wallpapered walls, ceilings and “doors” of the very French run gite, and the warm friendly patrons of the local bar/bistro who helped me encourage our children to eat snails with garlic butter.

Next trip was a three night stay in Roscoff, at the end of August 2001, where we enjoyed a glorious, laughter filled, family holiday feasting on seafood and enjoying the near empty beaches. 

In 2002 an old friend sold her house and used the profit to buy a place near Ploermel in Brittany where her mother already lived. 
She and her partner didn’t move across straight away as they had work commitments in the UK however she told us that we were welcome to go across any time with or without them. 
We did accompany them on many occasions for great fun holidays, at all times of the year, and went several times on our own.
(Sadly in about 2009 we were put on the long and ever growing list of people she wont talk to any more. We made a few attempts at finding out what her problem was but gave up in the end  as to be honest life's a bit too short to be making hard work of supposed friendships.
 
During our visits when she wa still speaking to us we slowly began looking at the possibility of owning our own place in the area and we flirted with the idea of rebuilding one of the many wonderful old ruins that appeared to have been abandoned and forgotten. 

We asked our friend’s mother (Sylvie), who had already lived there for a few years, to look out for anything cheap, up to about 12 thousand pounds, and in need of lots of renovation. (Lets face it, for that sort of money it would need lots of renovation)
I fancied increasing my DIY skills and being a practical, self assured sort of a chap I felt confident that I could overcome most problems that renovating a house would uncover. 
I knew that if I found gaps in my knowledge I had enough contacts in the building trade (and enough humility) to ask for, and receive, top quality advice. (We had no idea that sites like French Entree existed at that time)

My wife and I had spoken of doing a project in Dorset but the ludicrous property market in the UK had already made that a pipe dream beyond our means. 
The only option would have been to sell our beautiful house, that we had completed all work on, and then buy something nearby roughly the same size / same value / same mortgage and do it again. 
With the children well into their teens we thought we would look for something a little different than the UK had to offer, which is why were contemplating a renovation property in Brittany if one came our way that was the right size and the right money. 

Why Brittany?? 

For “us” it ticked all our boxes:-
Because we liked the area of Brittany that we had come to know over three years or so and it was comfortable for us to get there and felt right being there. 
The area we liked was rural, tranquil and was just far enough from the coast so as not to demand the “coastal or tourist premium” 
Because from where we lived in West Dorset there were 4 ferry ports within 90 minutes drive. 
It was one to three hours away from the French western channel ferry ports (St Malo, Roscoff, Cherborg, Caen) to UK. 
It suited our travel requirements, and with Rennes airport and St Malo ferry both about an hour away it would be easy to get back to UK in a hurry if needs must. 
It made sense (to us) to keep travelling to a minimum and make hopping over and back much easier as we both had / have aging parents and Mrs B had work commitments in the UK. With me being a “sea dog” it doesn’t matter where I spend my leaves as long as it is with my wife and children.
We are from the micro climate of West Dorset, therefore we are used to the best of the UK climate (though I am sure others will differ from that opinion) 
Neither of us have any interest in skiing or snow, so it was very easy to eliminate the mountainous regions from of the equation. 
We had no desire to trundle down to the south, or the middle, of France and then to be dependent either on cheap air travel or long, (very, very long) car journeys each way eating into our valuable time.
Even 2 or 3 degrees of latitude can make a difference to a climate and, as we had experienced it in all seasons, the Brittany one suited us just fine.
We didn’t have to consider the financial aspect of the project as we were not dependent on a retirement income from the UK and both had good jobs, so fluctuating exchange rates, although inconvenient, were not a primary factor in our decision to start a project in a foreign country. 
We would not be borrowing any money and didn’t need to work in France. 


In short and as an offer of advice to others, we had slowly researched the idea over a couple of years. That research included, but is not limited to, the area, the travel times, the budget and to check and double check that the idea and project suited “both” our requirements aesthetically. (the last point being the most important) 

In late 2004 we were over on our own for a couple of weeks of wandering about in the area (eating, drinking, bimbling, and loving) when Sylvie, took us to see a glorious, old, run down, cob built, detached ruin with loads of land, to check if it was the sort of thing we were looking for. It was. 
It had plenty of potential and a very good “feel” to it so we asked her to make some enquiries as to who owned it and if they wanted to sell. 
It turns out that the owners would sell, but for a price but way above the market value and far more than we had available without loans. 
We were not at any stage going to borrow money for the project so we said “no thanks, too expensive for us” 
I am unsure how to say this without sounding all “far out man” about it, “but” something about the place seemed to say “You will be back and I will be waiting” 

I agree that it sounds like a complicated and slightly spooky message from what was a large and derelict mud hut, but we both strongly felt a connection to the place had been made. 
Regardless of “ethereal messages” it wasn’t to be at that time, but it had given us the incentive we needed and filled us with hope that there were suitable places out there and that “the one” was waiting for us.” 

So there we were at the end of 2004 waiting patiently and gently searching out a chance to breathe new life into a forgotten home.

Time for a musical interlude. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3UqK3lWvRk

(ps If you don’t have the album Blue Valentine by Tom Waits in your collection I heartily commend it to you.)

Love and Peace

Bentley