Nombre total de pages vues

mercredi 29 août 2012

Channeling my inner Kirstie

It has been very hot in the Pyrénées Atlantiques recently. Last week it topped 40 degrees with 95% humidity. If you want an idea of what that is like, put some very wet towels into your tumble dryer, turn on maximum, wait ten minutes and then poke your head inside. I defy you not to start dripping immediately. These temperatures are ‘exceptionel’ – normally August can be expected to hover in the low 30’s, an ideal temperature for toasting evenly all over and relaxing. The 40’s however are ‘excessif’ and people have either been escaping to the sea or the mountains. The transport-less have been hiding in their stone houses with the shutters firmly closed.
Being an estate agent, I was out and about. The Brits are back in force thanks to the nonstop rain back home and the favourable euro: pound exchange rate. For the first time since 2007 there are people looking for holiday homes. I had three English couples over the last few weeks. They were alarmingly white and scantily clothed. They didn’t wear hats. They didn’t drink much water. When the sun is cracking the flags, you need to cover up and drink at least a half a litre of water an hour.
The latest couple were from the North and nervously excited to be on the verge of buying in France. We kicked off with a town house in Orthez. 1930’s and with a swimming pool. The house has a forbidding grey render façade which I quickly whizzed them past – this house is one that looks better on the inside than the outside. The owner was away on holiday and the house smelled musty. The swimming pool was full of green weed. The clients were not impressed and I made a note to tell the owner he needs to make a bigger effort if he wants to sell.
We then went to a house 6 kms away in Sauveterre direction. Owned by an English couple, my clients loved it – the exposed stone walls, the beams, the fireplaces and the cool interior. They decided it was too far out of town and we carried onto Sauveterre where we saw an interesting property which has just come onto the market. There is a large 19th century house on a plot of 2 acres with a separate bungalow. The owners are willing to split the property for a quick sale. I had trouble finding this property in the warren of tiny roads and we had to follow an obliging post lady to their door.
We were approaching midday and the sky was washed clear of colour. We emerged from the air conditioning of my lovely Qashkai into a blast of sticky heat. The owners gave us water and sympathy and we were there an hour. The house has thick stone walls and was blissfully cool. Dogs panted on the stone flagged floors and a beautiful blue and brown eyed lurcher followed us around. We retreated to the conservatory and took in the garden. The Pyrenees were a pale purple haze on the horizon and the grass shimmered and waved in a green mirage. I told them the price and they were commented that they could not believe how much property you could get for your money over in France, compared to UK prices.
We dropped down to the Gave d’Oloron at Sauveterre and went for lunch at the Fil de l’eau, a tea and snack place which is open in the summer and is held on the lawns of a beautiful Béarnaise cottage owned by Sally and Mike Johnson. Children jumped in and out of the water and played badminton. Spanish, Irish, French and English voices mingled. The tables with their brightly coloured canapés were nearly all taken. Sally was in charge of sandwiches and rustled us up a delicious filled baguette with salad and coleslaw. We downed some very welcome soda and water and talked through what we had seen.
Refreshed, we then went back to Orthez where I channelled my inner Kirstie and showed them a ‘mystery house’. It has been my experience, after eight years in the job, that people often buy something which is completely different from their original criteria. People come to buy renovations and end up buying brand new. People who come to buy in the countryside are seduced by the convenience and attractions of a town centre apartment with large terrace and all the entertainments on foot. I wanted to show a property which was ideal for a holiday home and would rent out easily, a property with no work to do and one that was out of the ordinary.
We went to a village just outside of Orthez and down a little lane. A cool stream borders the 18th century cottage which we were going to see. There is a terrace and workshop and the kitchen patio doors open out onto a balcony overlooking the water. There is a kitchen/diner and living room and three bedrooms. As an extra, there is a patch of garden and a garage, though it is on the other side of the neighbour’s house. It is a snip at 149000 euros and well under their budget.
My clients were seduced however by the house in Sauveterre and rejected the mystery choice. My inner Kirstie was smirking and I told her to shut up. They went back to their B and B to have a think about what they had seen and I went to the pool in Salies de Bearn.
Salies de Bearn is a medieval town with winding cobbled streets, a thermal baths, golf, casino and lots of lovely little boutiques. It is bisected by the Saleys river which is overlooked by leaning 16th and 17th century houses on stilts. The weekly market had just finished and the street cleaners were busy whizzing around and cleaning up. The thermal baths is great in winter when you need a blast of salty heat. What I needed right then was something cool and chlorinated. The open air public baths is open between June and October and this is where I headed. There is a large camp site just next door and the baby bassin was full of golden haired Dutch children. I noted, with relief, that the aggressive cannonballing dwarf was having a day off. The deep end of the pool has diving boards and a crocodile of tawny backed children was lined up, ready to launch themselves in a series of limb crushing manoeuvres into the water. I put on my tinted goggles and started a lazy crawl up and down. Bubbles of air sparkled like fire flies as bodies shot into the water. Someone was pretending to be dead on the floor. A very large lady in a spotty black petticoat swimsuit was peddling across the shallow end in a nearly upright position. I swam with my head under water, following the black line of tiles across the floor. It was blissful and quiet with just the gurgling of the filtration system and the occasional squeaking from the metal ladders.
It didn’t last long, as Fanny put in an appearance. Fanny (not her real name) is of medium height, with a robust physique, tightly curled black hair and a Joan of Arc look in her eye. She is around 60 years of age and we have never seen her anywhere other than the pool. My kids think she spends the rest of the year in an institution… Her normal modus operandi is to stand at the side of the pool and engage the unwary in conversation. Being English is useful as she supposes that we don’t understand her. She talks to herself non stop and periodically berates the lifeguards for letting children into the pool.
I surfaced to find her facing me at the shallow end. She was crouched as if about to start a race and was hissing encouragement to herself through her teeth. ‘Ca tape forte – courage’ she urged and launched herself tumultuously into the water. She disappeared and I dipped my head under to see what was happening. Fanny was scooting along the bottom, hands running along the tiles and legs see-sawing back and to. I recommenced my swim and focused on reaching the other end in less than 30 strokes. The lifeguards were chatting amongst themselves and didn’t seem to have noticed that Fanny had disappeared.
A few seconds later, Fanny shot out of the water in a surprisingly realistic impression of a breeching whale. Arms extended and wearing a terrible grimace, she shrieked before plunging back under. Her feet appeared briefly. Nearly everyone was taken by surprise. She did the breaching butterfly stroke twice across the pool and then paused, out of breath, and went back to her normal breaststroke.
‘C’est elle qui fait l’animation!’ laughed the lifeguards and went back to chewing gum and chatting up the tourists.
If you want to enjoy Salies pool and see lovely houses, or even spot Fanny in action, pop over to www.landes-pyreneesproperties.com or give me a call on 0033559381991

jeudi 23 août 2012

Pushy .... or competitive?






 



    The week kicked off with a phone call from a former client.  A client who had seen every house in her budget range in the local area; and was still renting.  My heart sank - please God, she didn't want to start looking again.  Fortunately not, her sister wanted to sell her holiday home, which she had bought two years ago, refurbished and then gone back to Tokyo, never to return.  We met up and she took me around.  All of the furniture was covered in white sheeting.  Shades of Miss Haversham...  My client told me how much her sister had paid for the house and I was stunned into almost silence - a loss of E80 000 was easily achievable over today's property prices.  I promised to do an Analyse Comparative du Marche and we had a very jolly lunch.
    Back at the office, the atmosphere was much more detendue because the agent who had been causing all the trouble last week had gone on holiday.  I got back the sales contact which he had attemped to nick in my absence, and went around to estimate the value of the two appartement buildings.  They are both in Rue St Gilles in the centre of Orthez, a long narrow street with three storey 19th century immeubles.  I had three bunches of keys; a total of about 35 together.  It took me 10 minutes just to get through the front door.  I emerged into a gloomy corridor which opened out onto a courtyard with steps.   None of the keys worked in any of the doors and at the top of the steps, the gate was closed with a bike lock.  I went back to trying the doors.  One opened very slowly and a bleary-eyed woman emerged.  We were both very surprised...  She and her family rent the ground floor and had no idea that the block was to be sold.   Ooops...  Her husband showed me how to get to the top flat without having to climb over the gate.  I went back to trying the keys and was just in the process of heaving up the metal shutter on the patio doors when two ladies turned up.  Fortunately they were the two former renters and let me in.

    At the end of two hours, I had measured up and taken all the pics.   There were two appartements, garden and garage and the owner very kindly gave us an exclusive contract!  Job done and I have a lovely young couple coming over next week who it would suit to a tee.

    Two young men came in mid week, looking for a studio or loft to renovate.  We set off in their car and they drove so fast that things turned into a blur - a Back to the Future experience in Orthez!  I showed them a place that we have had for sale for YEARS -a rather gloomy appartement which leads onto a massive outbuilding.  Unfortunately a previous owner had sold the downstairs garage (the only outside access to said massive outbuilding)to the neighbour, who is, as they say around here, a man of 'caractere' i.e. v.v. difficult.  The young men loved it.  I had to sit down to cope with the shock.  They measured up and cooed about the potential. Watch this space...  they are revisiting with an architect next week.

    Friday, an FNAIM agent from Alsace brought his client over.  They set off at 5 pm and arrived 5am, both looking surprisingly sprightly.  We set off in my car and went to see a house in Mascacq.  A neobearnaise style with loads of space.  The Alsaciens thought the garden was too steep, and too big.  We were chatting outside prior to leaving, and the client asked why the lady was selling.  The lady's face crumpled. 'Because my son died in January'.  Poor, poor lady.  Our hearts went out to her.

    The second house was in Sault de Navailles.  The owner met us and let us in and showed us his aged mother who was installed on the sofa under a blanket.  We went around the house, with his mother's frail voice following us, 'I can hear you, you know.... I told you not to play with your friends at lunchtime'.  The owner is well into his 50's and he just shrugged and said that it would happen to all of us eventually.  I suspect the kids or the alcohol may get to me first.

    The last house was in Salies de Bearn and the client loved it to bits and made an offer, which was accepted.  A good week!

    Apart from... I was lurking outside the Mairie, hoping to catch a contact on his way out, when a Danish couple stopped and asked me directions to the English agency in Salies.  I gave them my card and said if they didnt find anything, not to hesitate to contact me.   The Agent spotted me talking to his clients and stomped over;

    'Ah Janet, stealing clients again' he said grumpily and then disappeared with his clients.  I have, just occasionally, been accused of being pushy.   I think I am competitive.  All the same, it would be interesting to see if those clients do get back to me.   They did look terribly, terribly, well off.....

    jeudi 9 août 2012

    French property prices 2012 second quarter


    Housing Market in Second Quarter 2012
    Wednesday 01 August 2012
    A recent batch of housing market reports all suggest the motor is running out of gas, but not everywhere it seems.
    It hardly comes as any great surprise to hear from the French estate agents that sales activity has slowed in recent months.
    In their latest review of the market, FNAIM, the national association of estate agents, state that sales are down by 15% in the second quarter over the same period last year; the national chain Century 21 claim a similar fall of 17% over the past year, while the Laforêt group of agents say sales have fallen by 11% in the second quarter over the same period in 2011.
    Although there can be little doubt that the global financial crisis is setting the scene for such falls, the agents also points to a number of more prosiac factors:
    The impact of the abolition of the interest free loan (PTZ) for older property in the number of first time buyers;
    The reluctance by existing owners to accept any significant reduction in the asking price of their property;
    A toughening of credit conditions from the banks, despite the lower interest rates available;
    The reduction in the fiscal advantages available to investors, as well as the toughening of tax rules on capital gains.
    So for once it seems the estate agents are all in agreement.
    Well, not quite, because according to Jérôme Bost the marketing director at ERA chain of estate agents, “it all depends over which period you are making the comparison”.
    He reminds us that it was a record year for sales in 2011, which continued into the first quarter, as buyers sold before the new capital gains tax rules came into force.
    “Over a year it’s true that the number of sales has declined by around 15%, but if one compares sales in the first half of the year with the second half of 2011, then the fall is only around 5%”, he says.
    ‘Moreover”, he continues, “the fall in sales mainly concerns studio and 1 bed apartments which have been most affected by the abolition of first time buyer interest free mortgages and by the abolition of tax breaks on investment properties. If these properties are removed from the equation, then the slowdown is little more that the usual ‘wait and see’ approach that normally occurs in an election year”.
    A similar view is expressed by Phillipe Taboret of mortgage brokers Cafpi, who says that “after a slow first quarter, the second quarter picked up a little in April and May and activity was strong in June”.
    So although it seems that sales are falling, there remains a lack of agreement amongst the agents on the scale and nature of the downturn.
    Prices
    Be that as it may, there does at least some broad agreement that prices have remained stable.
    The agents argue that a ‘vicious circle’ is happening, where existing owners, not themselves able to buy on a discounted basis, are then unwilling to reduce the sale price of their own property.
    FNAIM consider there has been no real change in prices for the past nine months, following two years of price growth in 2010 and 2011.
    Neither, they argue, during the second quarter did even Ile de France prove the exception, as prices also stagnated in this region, after successive periods of upward growth in recent years.
    The Ile de France region now remains the only one in France where house prices remain above those of 2007, due to falls that occurred elsewhere during 2008 and 2009 and the immutable character of prices since this time.
    Beyond the Ile de France, FNAIM consider that that the only significant downward movement in prices at a regional level occurred in Nord Pas de Calais (-5.9%) and Brittany (-4.3%), while one region even reported a measurable increase in prices, that being Aquitaine (+1.6%).
    The Laforêt group, with 750 branches nationwide, point to a similar picture, with prices only falling on average by 0.4% in the last quarter over Q1. They argue that the big reduction in prices took place at the start of the year, when prices fell by around 5%, and that a further decline in the second quarter was cushioned by attractive rates of interest.
    That prompted Laurent Vimont, president of Century 21 to comment somewhat optimistically that “this might indicate that the worst is already behind us”.
    A similar view is expressed by Century 21 who state that prices only fell by 0.4% in the first half of the year over the second half of 2011, but that over a year prices had fallen by 2.6%.
    However, scratch beneath the surface of the headline figures and it is clear there are the usual significant local disparties, as the following table from Century 21 shows.
    The table does have some limitations, notably that the figures are for both apartments and houses combined, and for dwellings averaging in size less than 100m2. So it does not properly reflect the change in prices in larger country properties. However, it is the best we have at the present time.
    Regional Property Prices
    Region
    Price Change Six Months Price Change One Year Average Price m2 Average Purchase Price
    Alsace +0.3% +7.9% €1,902 €146K
    Aquitaine -7.3% +3% €2,127 €177K
    Auvergne -3.4% -0.5% €1,305 €104K
    Brittany -1.4% -1.7% €1,991 €159K
    Burgundy -3.5% -8.3% €1,240 €111K
    Centre +3.9% 0% €,1638 €140K
    Champagne-Ardenne +4.4% +1.4% €1,461 €118K
    Franche-Comté -4.4% +1.5% €1,703 €143K
    Languedoc-Roussillon -2.6% -4.5% €2,176 €162K
    Limousin -2.6% -2.3% €1,128 €100K
    Lorraine +0.6% -9.1% €1,540 €141K
    Lower-Normandy -6.% -10% €1,924 €143K
    Midi-Pyrénées -0.4% +1.1% €1,714 €146K
    Nord-Pas-de-Calais -2.9% -4.1% €1,701 €152K
    Pays-de-la-Loire -6.6% -3.6% €2,088 €172K
    Picardy -2.9% -4.1% €1,701 €152K
    Poitou-Charentes -13.8% -2.9% €1,685 €163K
    PACA +1.3% -0.2% €3,603 €249K
    Rhône-Alpes -4% +1% €2,639 €216K
    Upper-Normandy -11% -6.2% €1,625 €143K
    Source: Century 21
    Of the 20 regions in the table, 15 show prices decreases in the past six months, while 5 regions actually saw prices go up. The largest rise in the past six months was in Champagne-Ardenne (+4.4%), while in Poitou-Charentes prices fell by a whopping 13.8%.
    These are some big differences in the market, and once you factor in more local variations of rarity and quality, then it is clear that broad average figures need to be used with great caution. The only significant conclusion that can be drawn is that the trend is downwards.
    In addition to reports from the estate agents, Credit Agricole also recently issued their latest review of the market.
    Although they continue to argue that house prices are substantially overvalued, they do not consider that a collapse of prices is likely.
    “The demand for housing will fall”, says Olivier Eluere, housing economist at Credit Agricole. “But it will not collapse because the specific structural characteristics of the French property market continue to have a positive effect, notably due to its ‘safe haven’ status. We are moving more towards a correction, rather slow and gradual, which could last three to four years”.
    This report is from http://www.french-property.com/news/french_property_market/house_prices_q2_2012/

    jeudi 29 décembre 2011

    Festive thoughts from Abroad

    Christmas 2011

    In England, it was always our tradition to attend the Christmas morning service at our local church.  For me, this was always the best time of the whole Festive Season.  The turkey was in the oven, the presents had been appreciated.  If something hadn’t been bought of our thought of at that stage, then it was far too late or just not important.  We would troop down to our local Methodist Chapel and the church would be warm and smelling of pine, mince pies and mulled wine.   There was such an age range too – from tiny babies to grannies.  The vicar had a flashing bow-tie which rotated – we all liked that.  The services were never too long and then we would shake hands with the Vicar – he had skin like kid gloves – and say see you next year.  We would then return to the house and my husband and kids would then spend the rest of the day trying to put the presents together and make them work.  By Christmas Day I was normally worn to a frazzle and heading for my yearly bout of ‘flu and would happily eat myself to the size of a snowman and then pass out whilst watching the animation of the same name.  Every time I hear ‘I’m walking in the air’, I am taken back to those sparkling white Derbyshire Christmases.
    When we came to France, I missed Christmas.  I missed snow and carols and church.  The first Christmas came and went and seemed less special.  The second Christmas we went to England.  On the third Christmas, I brought up the subject of church and we skimmed the Internet and found Saint Andrew’s at Pau.  We have been every year but one ever since; a brief defection, not to be repeated, to Biarritz of which more another time.  The streets are usually deserted and the only shops open are the Fleuristes, the Boulangeries and McDonalds.
    The Vicar bears an astonishing resemblance to Patrick Stewart.  His robes are snowy white with gorgeous golden bands.  The church is bright with holly and ivy and candles light up the stained glass windows.  And what a diversity of people attends!  There are tall and willowy, there are short and stout, there are blondes and braids, there are shaven and dreadlocked.  There are carrot tops – of which I can claim a proud contribution with my youngest.  Indian, Caribbean, African, Scottish, English and Welsh, all were represented and  I reflected, as we sang hymns praising our Lord’s birth, what a wonderful thing it is to be British, and I gave thanks for that too.  For the way a language and a belief can bring people together – to pray, to laugh and to hold hands and say ‘peace be with you’.  To have the blessing of our Lord, though the hand of his priest, which warm weight I felt for the rest of the day and which will sustain me through the coming year.  This is the essence of Christmas for me – to come together in peace and love.  A merry Christmas to you all, wherever you are.  Peace be with you.

    for information about buying in France, please pop over to

    www.landes-pyreneesproperties.com

    or ring me on 0033559381991

    vendredi 11 novembre 2011

    My mother in law's malt loaf (and other ramblings)

    My mother and my mother in law were both born in 1921 and were female. They had similar working class backgrounds and lived through the Second World War. Their resemblance one to another stops at that point. My mother was born in Birkenhead, Lancashire and lived with her three sisters and one brother in a terraced house. She was the baby of the family and when she was born, Frank, the eldest, was already 15. Her father was a butcher and her mother was a cook. When the War started, she was evacuated into the countryside: she missed her family and the city and was only away a month. She came back home and was then sent to Bletchley to do ‘something with wiring’. She was away a month there too and came back to find a job in the NAAFI which was much more her style. Mum loved being the centre of attention and enjoyed her War to a large extent. Dances, dying legs with coffee dregs and drawing a line on the calves to simulate real stockings, peroxide, exciting US soldiers (two of her sisters became GI brides), makeup and clothes.
    In 1942, having been bombed out of three houses, the family decided to leave the city and went to the tiny village of Weston Rhyn in Shropshire. After the initial shock of no electricity (gas provided both heat and light until into the 1950‘s), no shops and so much grass, they settled in. The War did not physically touch Weston Rhyn – on the one occasion when a German plane passed overhead, apparently my Grandmother ran out of the house, clutching her ration book, only to find herself alone in the street; the locals still warm and quiet in their beds.
    I have a photo of my mother taken in the early 40′s, standing on a rock at Llandudno, wearing a ruched one piece swim suit and with a figure that I have never, in any decade of my life, achieved. She was always glamorous. She was always well turned out. Just about the only piece of advice that she gave me was ‘get yourself ready first’.
    My mother in law was born in Preston, Lancashire and had two brothers and a sister. Naturally blonde, she was once teased that she ‘touched up’ the colour with peroxide and was embarrassed. She was conservative and never discussed the past with me, apart from mentioning that she and her sister Betty used to be on ‘fire watch’ which in the early stages of the War involved going onto roofs of tall buildings and spending the night looking out. The most interesting story of all which is one which my hubby told me. Apparently Lilian was in Ribbleton, it was in the early 60’s and she was hanging out washing on the line. She looked up. There was a space ship – a classic spinning saucer, hanging over the garden. It span for a minute and then flashed up high and disappeared. If my mother had told me this story (and she would have told this story to everyone), I would have assumed it was the gin talking. I have no hesitation in believing my mother in law – she was completely unfanciful and would not have welcomed the attention that this story would have brought.
    Apart from a spell in Birmingham, my mother in law spent the rest of her life in Preston – the latter twenty odd years in Penwortham, which is where my husband was born. Her life was her family and her Christian faith and she was content with it. My mother always hankered for a more exciting life. We were in the garden once and a passenger plane passed overhead ‘take me with you’ shouted mum at the tail stream, and then laughed. I was 13 at the time and it disturbed me. We did not have a quiet life – mum and dad’s favourite occupation was moving house. We must have moved on average about every couple of years. Of most of the houses I only remember one or two rooms or a patch of the garden. I have had to write them down in case I forget. My brother and I had numerous primary and several secondary schools. They were mostly dreadful and we emerged with poor exam results. My mother in law was horrified to hear of our fractured education. ‘You can move house all you like, but you’ll still be the same person’ she concluded. A conclusion that my mother didn’t arrive at even after dozens of removals.
    It was my mother in law who came to stay when we had our babies and who cooked and cleaned for us. She came on holidays and babysat. She loved her grandchildren completely. I remember her holding William in her arms when she came to see me in Chorley Maternity unit and saying with wonder ‘its as if I have known him all my life’. Her views on the relation between husband and wife were very different to my own and the cause of much grinding of teeth (probably on her part too) but I miss her enormously, so this is my tribute to you Lilian. We all loved you and now your lovely malt loaf will be out there in the wider world xx
    My Mother in Law’s Malt Loaf
    3/4 pound of self raising flour
    cup of fruit
    cup of sugar
    1 tablespoon treacle
    1 tablespoon syrup
    1 egg
    1 cup of milk
    Mix altogether well & put in a greased loaf tin, medium oven 1 hour.
    The cup I use is a large tea cup – I fill it with mixed fruit and add some nuts. I use three quarters of a cup of sugar.
    Take a large pan and put in the fruit, sugar, treacle and syrup. Warm gently until the treacle and syrup start to run. Add the cup of milk and stir. Sift in the flour, mixing well. Finally add the beaten egg. The mix is quite stiff. Grease the rectangular loaf tin and I usually line with baking parchment so it comes out easily. Fill with the mix, leaving at least three centimetres between the top of the mix and the top of the tin. It does rise considerably so place in a baking tray to avoid oven floor spills. The top will crack as it cooks. Test for doneness with a skewer after an hour. It is better to cook for longer at a lower temperature than for shorter at a higher one as the elevated sugar content will cause the top to burn. About 170 degrees C in my fan oven is usually fine.

    for information about buying in France, please pop over to

    www.landes-pyreneesproperties.com

    or ring me on 0033559381991

    lundi 7 novembre 2011

    A busy week

    The week kicked off with a phone call from a former client.  A client who had seen every house in her budget range in the local area; and was still renting.  My heart sank - please God, she didn't want to start looking again.  Fortunately not, her sister wanted to sell her holiday home, which she had bought two years ago, refurbished and then gone back to Tokyo, never to return.  We met up and she took me around.  All of the furniture was covered in white sheeting.  Shades of Miss Haversham...  My client told me how much her sister had paid for the house and I was stunned into almost silence - a loss of E80 000 was easily achievable over today's property prices.  I promised to do an Analyse Comparative du Marche and we had a very jolly lunch.

    Back at the office, the atmosphere was much more detendue because the agent who had been causing all the trouble last week had gone on holiday.  I got back the sales contact which he had attemped to nick in my absence, and went around to estimate the value of the two appartement buildings.  They are both in Rue St Gilles in the centre of Orthez, a long narrow street with three storey 19th century immeubles.  I had three bunches of keys; a total of about 35 together.  It took me 10 minutes just to get through the front door.  I emerged into a gloomy corridor which opened out onto a courtyard with steps.   None of the keys worked in any of the doors and at the top of the steps, the gate was closed with a bike lock.  I went back to trying the doors.  One opened very slowly and a bleary-eyed woman emerged.  We were both very surprised...  She and her family rent the ground floor and had no idea that the block was to be sold.   Ooops...  Her husband showed me how to get to the top flat without having to climb over the gate.  I went back to trying the keys and was just in the process of heaving up the metal shutter on the patio doors when two ladies turned up.  Fortunately they were the two former renters and let me in.

    At the end of two hours, I had measured up and taken all the pics.   There were two appartements, garden and garage and the owner very kindly gave us an exclusive contract!  Job done and I have a lovely young couple coming over next week who it would suit to a tee.

    Two young men came in mid week, looking for a studio or loft to renovate.  We set off in their car and they drove so fast that things turned into a blur - a Back to the Future experience in Orthez!  I showed them a place that we have had for sale for YEARS -a rather gloomy appartement which leads onto a massive outbuilding.  Unfortunately a previous owner had sold the downstairs garage (the only outside access to said massive outbuilding)to the neighbour, who is, as they say around here, a man of 'caractere' i.e. v.v. difficult.  The young men loved it.  I had to sit down to cope with the shock.  They measured up and cooed about the potential. Watch this space...  they are revisiting with an architect next week.

    Friday, an FNAIM agent from Alsace brought his client over.  They set off at 5 pm and arrived 5am, both looking surprisingly sprightly.  We set off in my car and went to see a house in Mascacq.  A neobearnaise style with loads of space.  The Alsaciens thought the garden was too steep, and too big.  We were chatting outside prior to leaving, and the client asked why the lady was selling.  The lady's face crumpled. 'Because my son died in January'.  Poor, poor lady.  Our hearts went out to her.

    The second house was in Sault de Navailles.  The owner met us and let us in and showed us his aged mother who was installed on the sofa under a blanket.  We went around the house, with his mother's frail voice following us, 'I can hear you, you know.... I told you not to play with your friends at lunchtime'.  The owner is well into his 50's and he just shrugged and said that it would happen to all of us eventually.  I suspect the kids or the alcohol may get to me first.

    The last house was in Salies de Bearn and the client loved it to bits and made an offer, which was accepted.  A good week!

    Apart from... I was lurking outside the Mairie, hoping to catch a contact on his way out, when a Danish couple stopped and asked me directions to the English agency in Salies.  I gave them my card and said if they didnt find anything, not to hesitate to contact me.   The Agent spotted me talking to his clients and stomped over;

    'Ah Janet, stealing clients again' he said grumpily and then disappeared with his clients.  I have, just occasionally, been accused of being pushy.   I think I am competitive.  All the same, it would be interesting to see if those clients do get back to me.   They did look terribly, terribly, well off.....

    for information about buying in France, please pop over to

    www.landes-pyreneesproperties.com

    or ring me on 0033559381991

    dimanche 6 novembre 2011

    I don't understand the French

    I have been working an an agent commercial immobilier now since 2004.  In the beginning, we had our own website and oodles of Brits who were looking for holiday homes.  They all had good budgets and nearly all of them bought.  Life was good.  Things started going haywire in August 2009 when the foreign buyers suddenly all disappeared.  I have since been obliged to work with the French.  The boss of Century 21 suggested that I came 'in from the cold' and do 'permanences' at the Salies de Bearn office.  I was quite excited at the prospect of a new client source and readily agreed.  I soon acquired the haunted look of my other French colleagues.

    I admit it - I am rubbish at selling to the French.  My friend Judy Mansfield of First Rate FX tells me it is the French who have the block and it is they who don't purchase with me.  The upshot is the same.  The only way I sell to a French person is if they walk through the door and insist on buying something.  I am therefore reliant on the quality of the other French agent co's to do the selling for me.  We have had a mixed bag over the years, notably:

    1.  A former airhostess (male) who liked painting - his canvases were 90% black with occasional red splashes.  Rather nasty divorce in progress.  He didn't last very long at all.

    2.  A very amusing Belgian who spoke excellent English - everyone loved him - men and women alike.  I have many happy memories of Pierre-Gil.  One  was on a 'visite marketing'.  We were traipsing en equipe around a depressing 1970's cube.  Pierre-Gil's head popped out of the bathroom 'Jeanette - look - they have a telephone cabin in the bath...'.  There was a very large, very plastic, extraordinarily ugly shower unit posed in the middle of the bathtub.  We shut the door and cried with laughter until the Boss honked her car from outside and we had to tell owner that we had been stuck in the bathroom.  Another time a client came into the agency and was enquiring about a property which had been coyly advertised as 'to renovate'.  The lady asked if there was a shower.  Pierre-Gil rolled his eyes and replied 'Madame, it does not have a DOOR'.  He always flirted shamlessly with every attractive male client who came into the Agency.  He appreciated good legs.  If he didn't like a property, he would open the door and say 'there you go' and stand outside, smoking.  There is one and only one Pierre-Gil and he was sadly missed when he left.

    3.  The BAC +5 secretary who hated her job and used to go to McDonalds with us, eat salad, and weep.  She transferred to Rentals and discovered yes, life could be worse.  She went off to sell ham in the Landes Dept 40.

    4.  A guy in his 50's who stole my clients.  Rule number one in a team is to respect your colleagues.  Otherwise, fireworks.  I have got in touch with my French side and can shout with the best of them.  I had organised a visit with some English clients to see one of my properties.  They cancelled suddenly.  I arrived in the agency late afternoon to find my so called colleague had taken them and sold them the house.  I was on the bonkers edge of livid and no-one cared.  Two days later, I found out that they had cancelled and had the pleasure of laughing very loudly in his face.  He left after having printed off the whole agency stocklist to take to his next agency. 

    5.  A lady in her 40's who went off with depression and then sued the agency for non payment of commissions.  She set up with someone who had been kicked out of another agency, divorced her husband and emptied both the joint bank account and that of her kids.  She also moved in with the other lady and rumours circulated.

    6.  The rentals agent who had a tough time at home and an even tougher time at work and took to drinking.  We used to have to close the doors in the afternoon so that the clients couldn't hear him singing.

    In total over the two agencies and since 2004 there have been over 20 changes of staff.  Our current complement includes a former bee-keeper, a former mobilephone sales lady, former dress shop owner and me (former accountant, garden designer and secretary).  In France, there are virtually no jobs for which you need neither qualifications or experience.  Even serving in a restaurant needs experience.  It is not surprising that there are so many young people without work.  However, estate agents can't afford to be that fussy.  Hence the interesting mix of people who come and go.

    Anyhow, as I was saying, me and French clients don't produce sales.

    Someone from the UK for example will be looking for their French 'dream home', something with beams and fireplaces on the edge of a village with a bar and interestingly moustachio'd locals.  They dont give a monkey's whatsit if there isn't double glazing.  They are often fazed by the gasring and gothic appearance of the properties on offer.  They are surprised by the popularity of the dark brown and green interiors.  The French in general, don't like old.  They really like properties renovated by the Brits.  Brits really like properties renovated by the Brits.

    The French have a mania for bungalows (plain-pieds) and double glazing.  The first thing they do when they buy a property is to instal double glazing.  This country must be a mecca for double glazing salesmen.  And for people selling the sort of exterior wall facings only seen on Coronation Street.  Once a French person gets over 40, they start talking about their 'vieux jours' when they won't be capable of climbing stairs.  They are very stair phobic.  I was bemoaning this fact in the office the other day and one of my colleagues (ex mobile phone sales) laughed and suggested that is why I couldn't sell to them.  They think I am making it up when I tell them my 80 year old mother in law living in a house with only two gas fires for heating, vertiginous staircase and, horror of horrors, single glazing.  Her house was phenomenally cold (I don't tell them this).  Every new construction is like a little mushroom. 

    French people also feel the cold.  I live in a house which is known to my friends as 'the Freezer' which is heated upstairs by electric radiators (which we are too mean to switch on), wood burning stoves and an eccentric Godin (French equivalent Aga) which heats and cooks.  I have seen beautiful old houses with bright white airconditioning units attached to ancient oak beams.  They are monstrous.  There must be beautiful old cast iron radiators somewhere - probably in the decheterries or in the brocantes where they are snapped up by foreigners keen to preserve the beauty of their French homes.  They also slap in uPVC units into their 18th century maison de maitres and disco lighting in the hallways.  If these facts go into public knowledge, the French reputation for good taste may go downhill rapidly.

    So, the end of my second blog entry.  Please comment.  Please follow.

    for information about buying in France, please pop over to

    www.landes-pyreneesproperties.com

    or ring me on 0033559381991