There is an enormous crane and bulldozers getting ready to build a villa in the plot to the east of us. This is the last villa to go up in our vicinity and our privacy will be intact. We just have to put up with the noise over the next few months.
This got me thinking about our house, and how the neighbourhood has changed in the 33 years since we bought it, as a family home to complement the flat in London. In fact this was a crazy move, driven by Anita's disenchantment with England and the English, and my desire to make a completely fresh start after the unhappy years in the Navy. I was very lucky to get work at IBM La Gaude, and we have been very lucky with the house.
We were looking for an old house in the country to "do up", with enough room to squeeze our children in in the school holidays, and after being shown all sorts of houses on our "winter break" weekends, this is what we found. All around were vineyards and fields with sheep in them in the winter. The back half of the house belonged to an old peasant who made his own wine and pastis.
No longer. The area was changed from agricultural to residential, the back half of the house has been added to a villa built behind us, the vineyards and fields are smart villas with pools, and the bells on the sheep have been replaced by the sound of lawnmowers and hedge clippers.
In fact the house has evolved with our needs. Since Anita and Marius the mason and his corps de metiers stripped the ground floor and the beams in the ceilings and installed the kitchen, all we have done is modernise the bathroom. Bedrooms have been changed into dressing rooms and a study, and while the house was very small for our family, it is not too big for the two of us, and we have never tired of it.
And the suburban neighbourhood is what we need now. Our terrace and the garden are still quiet and private, but we have a smart baker, a chemist, a cash dispenser, a bus stop and a bar tabac, all within five minutes walk. And five minutes drive away is a brand new clinic with all the latest equipment and a complete set of consultants on site. We have fallen on our feet in our old age!
A pity about Mougins, which is a kilometer away. It used to be a charming place: you could park in the centre if th village and spend hours chatting to Marie the greengrocer and Paulette in the tobacco shop, and end up in Georgette's little restaurant. Now you park outside if you cand find a place. The village is still spectacular in an operetta-ish way, but is packed with restaurants, estate agents and art galleries. And in summer it is full of tourists, and the locals take cover.
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