Mrs S decides

The house was certainly in need of some love and attention, not to mention a good airing to clear the musty, uninhabited smell that greeted us in the hallway, along with a ladder and an estate agent's ‘for sale' board. We peered into the corners of each room, including the enormous upstairs room and, with the aid of a cigarette lighter and half a box of matches, the closely-boarded loft. Everything seemed to tally with the estate agent's particulars that we had been given: well, nearly everything. The particulars stated that the house faced south, but I was absolutely certain that it faced east. But no matter as there was even a separate shower room instead of the usual communal facility on the landing. Not that this house had a landing anyway.

Returning to the courtyard, we checked the roof. Yes, it appeared to be new. Dragging the ladder out from the hallway, I climbed into the granary loft, followed by the elegantly-suited Monsieur D, who seemed to be joining in gleefully. He had probably sensed that he was in with a chance!

"This could easily be converted into another bedroom," he exclaimed. "So could the loft in the main building. Then you would have four bedrooms."

That really was not what I wanted to hear, especially as I recognised the look that was coming across Mrs S's face. I had a sneaking suspicion that her mind was made up and there was already a sight too much do-it-yourself involved without the added bonus of employing a horde of Gauloise-smoking builders who would down-tools for a lunch break every day at noon – and probably not return until two days hence.

"No, no," said Mrs S. "We don't want more than two bedrooms."

I breathed again.

It was just a little later that, for the first time in my life, I heard a Frenchman crack a joke which, while not rib-snortingly funny, was at least mildly amusing. The particulars clearly stated that the house had a garage. But where was it, my wife asked. The agent pointed to a large shed which had just one ordinary-sized door in the side wall.

"You would never get a car in there!" exclaimed Mrs S.

With a slightly wry smile, Monsieur D quickly responded, "A very small car, per'aps?"

The keys were duly returned to the notaire and after saying goodbye to Monsieur D, the better half and I turned into a nearby bar for some lunch. I already thought I knew what was coming, but this was confirmed for me when Mrs S offered to pay for the sandwiches and wine. So it was that, after allowing a decent interval for Monsieur D to imbibe his own lunch, we returned to his office to announce that we were prepared to offer the asking price which, we had been told, had already been reduced as the house had been on the market for some time.