There were still many ‘left over’ jobs to do, which included fitting the new big window in our bedroom, some smaller windows elsewhere, and building a dais in the sitting room. For further inspiration we made our first visit to Limoges and it was there that we began to realise we were suffering from – brie allergy – a kind of hot sweaty sensation that hits you whenever you visit the bricolage.

DIY can become addictive, and France reinforces the craving with thousands of bricolages, bricodepots and bricolots. But you only begin to realise the addiction has you in its grasp when, instead of heading for the guidebook attractions of a great city, your car automatically steers itself to a bricolage superstore. You know instinctively where they will be sited – on the city ring road close to McDonald’s and the cheap shoes and frocks emporia.

Further symptoms are evidenced by television viewing habits. Others may need a regular fix of Coronation Street. But for us it was ‘Big Strong Boys’ that became compulsive viewing, particularly as this was on at 12.30 when everyone in France, apart from the insane (and those who work at McDonald’s) stops for lunch.

For the unaddicted let’s just say that this is a programme in which two DIY megastars do up houses. A strong feature of the programme is that they show you ‘the tricks of the trade’.

There is also an associated website. I opened my server, typed in ‘Big Strong Boys’ and what I got was a variety of ‘adult’ sites with the kind of product offers that varied from the pornographic to the hysterical. Some of the clothing, or perhaps we should say ‘accessories’, looked uncomfortable enough to endanger the species.

We had by now become active members of an English speaking Christian group – the Chaplaincy of Charente – and through the organisation had met many new friends. I cannot overstate how important joining an organisation of like-minded can be. It helped us both to remain calm and focused at a time when we might otherwise have begun to question the wisdom of the move. The experience of the other members of the Chaplaincy was like a beacon of light; whatever happened to us had happened to somebody else, so there were shared insights, experiences and solutions. There was also a new network of contacts and friends. We attend a ‘home group’ each week.

The ‘home group’ idea works well in the Charente; there are ten inter-linked groups of eight or more people. The cornerstone of the Chaplaincy is Christian fellowship, but this also manifests itself in a number of practical ways – such as swapping information on matters such as law, taxes, medical matters and even cheap ferry crossings. The group is also a forum for DIY advice and the practical exchange of skills and experience. I only wish I had joined from the very beginning.

The meetings invariably begin with tea, coffee and cake and then we join together in songs of praise. My job is to play guitar and lead the singing. Part of my belief is that God is neither a snob nor a music critic.

After the singing we have a discussion or bible study. The atmosphere is light and reflective. Ultimately, the religious nature of the meetings is set aside and the session becomes informal.

One of the major topics of conversation with Chaplaincy friends is, ‘Do you like it out here?’, ‘Would you go back to England?’

Whilst nobody likes to admit the French adventure has been a disaster, it is equally clear that some have made a greater success of it than others. By the Autumn of 2004, the rise in UK property values during the previous year meant that bridges were smouldering; we had already recognised that ours were completely conflagrated. Although property values had also risen in the Charente during the same period (by up to 40%) that increase started from a lower price base. We had also by now invested far more of our capital than intended in the property.

But there were unexpected compensations. The biggest tug towards England is the family and this feeling, certainly shared by many of our Chaplaincy friends, must be a major factor in how well people settle. It is all very well saying to yourself that England is just a thin strip of water away, but in emotional terms it can feel like a million miles.

But then again how many people have family and friends two miles away and never see them? How many people buy a home with three extra bedrooms for all the people who say they will visit, but never turn up? Certainly we are aware of those in both categories.

It was already clear that things would be different for us. Bearing in mind that the property was still only barely equipped to receive visitors we had already had so many that the restoration process had fallen further behind. Of course that had at least something to do with 13 grandchildren at the latest count – eight of whom are under eight years of age, but we had also been tracked down by many friends.

We came to the conclusion that part of the reason for the continuous family invasion is the attraction of France itself. Let’s face it, doesn’t ‘visiting family in the Charente’ sound so much better than ‘visiting family in Essex’? Case proven.