tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70964244166469021242024-03-19T01:27:16.232-07:00But you are in France, Madame !This is a blog about living in, loving and leaving France. Australian-born but captivated by France, I persuaded my family to come with me on a year-long adventure living in the French Alps. Four years later, finances and education turned us back in the direction of Australia. We are still working on the next step, so stay posted.But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-51582219212203444272023-12-07T17:33:00.000-08:002023-12-07T17:38:17.369-08:00Smiley with strong armsTalloires under the snow'The review is in Swedish and I've made a quick attempt to find a translation without success.''Send me the link,' my husband texted, from five-thousand kilometres away.'I'd say the listener thinks that you have a nice smile and good arm muscles,' he quipped.'Ha. I'll take that,' I wrote back, chuckling to myself.It had been a couple of weeks since the audiobook version ofBut you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-85267027349356982272023-09-17T23:04:00.000-07:002023-09-17T23:04:22.258-07:00Yes. Italy. Yes. Italy.There, I said it. You are my witnesses. Many of you know our story: that of a young Australian family with three school-aged children who went to France for a year, stayed for much longer than that, and brought France forever more into their hearts. There, we learned to live with passion and joy - savouring moments differently; appreciating tastes and sounds more intensely; But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-90586090664513080822023-08-24T21:49:00.000-07:002023-08-24T21:49:31.819-07:00Love, fear and motherhoodStormy days. Stormy nights
‘I need help,’ the text message read.
We had chatted on the phone not long before and my daughter’s weary voice had clearly conveyed the pain that she was in and the effort that walking the few steps in the heat uphill to her room in Corfu would require. Signing off, she had promised that she would remain where she was until she felt that she had the necessary But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-5631379516859960662023-08-08T23:08:00.001-07:002023-08-09T05:34:38.233-07:00Dancing in the dining roomWe bought our French village house (Le Cormoran) the year after we returned to Australia from our family’s first French adventure - about which I wrote in ‘But you are in France, Madame.’ It was a heart decision, of that there is no doubt, based on the belief that our French journey was meant to continue. At the time, my passion was such that I brushed aside the implications of inheritance rules,But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-83912256608213945312023-07-27T21:12:00.003-07:002023-07-27T21:23:32.747-07:00La Providence in Provence ... discover the good life Nancy, it has been lovely connecting with you. Thanks for participating in my occasional series, ‘Australians in France.'Can you tell us about yourself and your French connection? I spent most of my life until now living in Australia but took a big mid-life leap last year to come and live permanently in France. In my own defence, there was some logic to the decision. For the previous But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-1457677768621618772023-07-14T00:44:00.003-07:002023-07-16T20:00:42.065-07:00To clean or not to clean your number plates. Plus book 4 now out.July 14. Today is a special day. France's national day? Yes. Publication day for my latest book? Also yes. I had actually intended to have book three in my series celebrating my French-Australian life out to you a couple of weeks ago, but ... life ... including a little run in with the police and a very expensive breakdown. The flashing lights and siren were clearly meant for But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-1767727917997165652023-06-19T18:03:00.000-07:002023-06-19T18:03:06.841-07:00Trusting in not knowing: Book 4 is on its way “I have just published my third book.” It wasn’t bragging nor was it an attempt to impress. I was still in the emotional aftermath of putting my figurative pen down and in awe that my words had come for a third time. “Interestingly, all my books have come about because of sadness and struggle,” I continued. Woah, again. How had I not realised that before? “I hope you never write anotherBut you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-88598188729480289562023-05-17T23:39:00.001-07:002023-05-18T15:29:00.131-07:00Burgundian BeautyKate's home in Lucenay-l’Évêque in BurgundyKate, it has been lovely connecting with you. Thank you for participating in my occasional series, ‘Australians in France.' Can you tell us about yourself and your French connection? I really discovered France later in life. My first trip to Europe was at 41, with Paris being our first stop. It was definitely love at first sight. Since then, myBut you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-6199379772195408422023-02-15T21:06:00.000-08:002023-02-15T21:06:25.718-08:00I hope you never write another book“Well, I hope you never write another book.”“Thank you.” Distancing myself momentarily from our conversation, I twisted, tweaked and reassessed the words, touched by his compassion. We had had no contact since our university days but, thanks to the vagaries of random social-media connections, we were talking again. And, how exciting it was to feel the power and anticipation of ourBut you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-43419644002442825752023-01-19T14:56:00.002-08:002023-01-19T14:56:42.043-08:00Lucky is the wife whose husband is ...Carcoar. En route to Adelaide. Note free town library"I've finished a bit early. Are you free to pick me up?""Will come as soon as I can. Just helping to prepare my invoice. I didn't anticipate being here for two hours, but I got what I came for and a bit more," my husband replied."No rush. See you when you get here."I tucked the phone in my handbag and, half closing my eyes, lifted my chin, But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-71783248537540579302022-11-04T00:53:00.014-07:002022-11-04T01:04:57.466-07:00In needThe aftermath of the flood"You can take more if you'd like."I lowered my gaze and continued to stuff my new-to-me purchase and packet of day-old rolls into the plastic supermarket shopping bag that I had just been given. My soulful tone was in tune with my sincerity."That is really kind of you, but I'm OK, thank you." Donald Bradman's birthplaceTen minutes before, I had walked into the But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-2668464955281858352022-07-31T23:18:00.001-07:002022-08-01T05:14:02.838-07:00BelongingOur village of TalloiresThe name of my blog, book and social media accounts might be misleading. After all, I am not always ... in France, Madame. But, now that I have become known as "But you are in France, Madame," I am loathe to part with this identity. I like it. And, figuratively, it is true. But, Catherine, you might remonstrate, it is a wordy title: one that is hard to remember correctly. But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-77452073812920224562022-07-06T21:46:00.003-07:002022-07-06T21:49:15.289-07:00And now ... first review for "With bare feet and sandy toes"I have said on many previous occasions that connecting with people around the world has been the best part of my writing journey. Readers have (mostly!) been supportive, encouraging and generous. And, despite being competitors in one sense, authors that I have bumped into virtually or in person have been keen to share successes and eager to chat about improving our craft and untangling marketing But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-28176614861315489642022-06-30T00:18:00.004-07:002022-06-30T18:30:48.750-07:00Book 3 ... published Alex and I were married on December 30 ... a few years back now. It is a lovely time of the year to celebrate our anniversary as we are often with friends and, if we are extra lucky, in France. There, the seasonal festivities are layered with extra cosiness as we watch the snow fall, cradle beakers of hot wine with our gloved hands at the Christmas markets, rug up properly to go on But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-40927187661781413422022-06-06T22:49:00.002-07:002022-06-07T00:45:13.345-07:00With bare feet and sandy toesBeing watched as I writeI have just sent my third book to the printers and am waiting for my author copy to be delivered. When it gets to me, I will have that moment of awe, amazement and pride, then I will proof it ... again. How do I feel? A little lost, to be honest. My days, nights, dreams and conversations have been consumed with this project. What is interesting is that, when I talk with But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-87943048339453064782022-03-23T19:45:00.001-07:002022-03-23T19:48:58.294-07:00Give peace a chanceI was sitting on the front porch drinking coffee. ‘5 Ernest Hemingway passages that every gentleman should know,’ Alex read from his phone. “Only gentlemen?” and I raised my eyebrows, already put off by the over-used, formulaic title. But I had taken the bait. See, the marketers do know their stuff. The first was a banal everyday scene set in Paris, which for some enables any prose to But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-80101825867000641612022-02-06T21:08:00.000-08:002022-02-06T21:08:42.750-08:00It's ok, Mum. I've got this.Ready for adventure. Noah, age 6, on our way to FranceOn this day, nine years ago, we put our French life on hold for what we thought would be a couple of years and flew back to Australia. My little boy was little and my three children all still at school. In a few days time that will change. The littlest, Noah, is no longer little and, like his two sisters, neither will he be living at home.&But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-69230424124360859892021-11-26T17:26:00.000-08:002021-11-26T17:26:44.361-08:00"You can't live in that" and straying from the best pathMy husband was away so there was no calling out for help. Not that it would have made a scrap of difference if he had been within cooee*. We were stuck in traffic with ten kilometres to go. That doesn't sound like a lot and on any normal day it wouldn't be, but it was no ordinary day. This final year of secondary school for my son Noah has required him to navigate a labyrinth of challenges and But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-1925202250793796552021-08-03T16:03:00.001-07:002021-08-03T16:03:33.049-07:00Gloves off since writing Book Two.A year ago today, I started writing my second book. 17 days later it was done. I know that this number is accurate because I still have the dog-eared piece of recycled paper on which I recorded my word count at the time. It has been gathering dust on my desk - my non-efficient filing system for family papers - since then, only re-surfacing last weekend as I tried to maintain momentum and But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-35332434851991458682021-06-11T19:37:00.000-07:002021-06-11T19:37:53.414-07:00Announcing ...... our return to the mountains.Secretly, I had hoped that I might be letting you know that a new book, 'But you are in Italy, Signora' was on the go, being shared as I was writing it from a heart-pumping Tuscan village where I could put into practice my flamboyant language skills, dive deeply into my husband's Italian ancestry and eat. Yep, that would be a big part of each day.But, no. For But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-47618389761202240942021-04-10T22:47:00.000-07:002021-04-12T19:03:41.286-07:00Coming full circleNot quite full circle.The olive tree has produced for the first time and it feels momentous. It has survived years of overseas separation, a journey of its own (from Melbourne to Sydney when we returned from France) and neglect (left to thrive for way too long before I noticed it and gave it some attention). And the chair under the olive tree? Before France, it was rescued from a rubbish But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-80329590314926870952021-03-16T16:02:00.001-07:002021-03-16T16:02:31.440-07:00 For these are a few of my favourite things.The Blue Mountains near Sydney, AustraliaI couldn't sleep on Saturday night. It was a combination of being in an unknown place, in a strange bed and a lot on my mind. The insistent drumming was a soothing melody, I told myself, and not a strident get-up-now call. My mind game must have worked as when I woke several hours later, it was still raining but the cool, confident drummer had finished hisBut you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-26950485004280889462021-02-14T20:01:00.006-08:002021-02-15T04:06:02.767-08:00My home. My castle.I wandered for many years. Home, then, was the place that my parents lived in and the boxes (stumbling blocks, literally and figuratively) that I lugged with me from one rental abode to the next remained unpacked, unsightly; signposting unremittingly the fact that I was not at home. Having my own children changed that. Slightly. But my devotion was to them, their happiness and their safety. Home But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-87112938250379915242021-01-27T14:43:00.000-08:002021-01-27T14:43:23.061-08:00Ah. There you are. Got you.Tug, bundle, scoop up and in. "Hmm. Efficiently done. Nicely done," I mused. I reached for the washing liquid, gave the product drawer a jaunty hip bump, leant down to close the machine door and pressed 'start.' Hublot, porthole ... washing machine door. And with a nod and another self-reflective "hmm,'' I listened to the first whooshes, signalling the arrival of the water in the cavityBut you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096424416646902124.post-30661854636585218352020-12-14T16:19:00.001-08:002020-12-14T16:34:36.615-08:00Weaving a French Life: An Australian story Weaving a French Life: An Australian story is out.I broke all the rules. There was no cover reveal, I set up no pre-orders, didn't alert my mailing list (you'd have to have one to do that), I had no launch party ... just heaved one big sigh that it is done.In the end, discretion suited me best. Contradictory? Probably, given that I blog, advertise, post to FaceBook and Instagram. But, as I But you are in France, Madamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05828509802680133173noreply@blogger.com2