The aforesaid bank, like, afaik all French banks, is hopeless. I spent two months recently trying to nurse through a bank transfer to an employee. The bank is about 50 metres away, and they know me well – and they are sitting on the above negligible proceeds of selling my UK home. Still, nothing but terminological inexactitudes to explain their failures. Oh, and a monthly fee for the privilege oh having them look after my money. And another monthly fee for my Carte Bancaire.
On the other hand, at a personal level I've been made very welcome, and chance encouters happen all the time. Yesterday I went to my local Weldom (ironmonger chain) for some paint for the oilcan which sits on the Britannia lathe – lots of plain bearings to oil!. Another customer arrived at the same time as me, and admired the 42-year-old Citroën Visa I travel around in. It has its original paint (no sign of any shine to it) and he declared how he liked to see a car in its 'original' state. He was after paint, for his letterbox, so we wandered around together. By the time we waved good-bye we'd covered the Dutch-sourced Citroën, the oil can and the 1890 (I think) Britannia lathe and much else besides!
The local shops – my village is 1,000 or so soulls, the one with the ironmongers is 7 km away – are generally pretty good, but there are things you need to learn. I bought a 'Broyeur' (for chipping the prunings from my rather overgrown garden) via an online shop called Mano-Mano. It worked for about half an hour, before failing terminally. Two months of email hassle ended with their refusal to take it back, and the suggestion that I but the special tools required to dismantle it and send them photos of whatever had gone wrong inside. I replied sayiing there must be some misunderstanding. I'd wanted to buy a broyeur, not a maintenance curse. Theoretically they culd have been foced to stump up the €150-odd via the courts or the local equivalent of Which?, But none of that really works, and the time I'd have had to spend on it would have been endless.
The solution was to buy one from a local shop, for €10 more. And when it failed, I was in a position to persuade the shop to get it repaired. Not with the greatest grace, but a few weeks later I was back in business. Luckily I already knew that the shop in my village which might have provided a replacement are widely known as a load of spivs, to be avoided by all but the richest and most stupid!
On a few good notes. The countryside here is heartbreakingly beautiful, (I lived in North Devon for 50 years before coming here, so I know of what I speak). The roads are brilliant – the most extreme contrast with N. Devon! I'm a member of the 'Amicale André Citroën du Sud-Ouest', and going to meet them early on a spring morning, with the sun low, the mist scattered, the forests casting long shadows …
I live alone, and doubtless that is harder.
Were it not for the pandemic the organised life of the village would put any UK equivalent to shame. I have a Cinema opposite, the 'Espace Ressources (help with pretty much anything, filling in forms, dealing with tax, shops phone companies…) Lots of societies, a library with helpful staff, La Poste also opposite, No need to pay for car parking, even in quite big towns. The Spring Fair included a meal for the village, a funfair and plenty to drink. Many people in attendance, of all sorts of ages.
The weather is a welcome few degrees warmer. And we eat quite nicely here, albeit expensively…
Sorry, this has turned into a long off-topic screed. I shall do my best not to repeat!
Best regards, Tony.