Retirement in France

Retirement in France

At some point in our lives, we have all sat back and had the “what would I do if I won the lottery?” thought. Dreams of holidays, cars, not having to worry about paying bills, sometimes not even having to think about what to cook every day, the possibilities are endless.

As we get a little further into the ageing process, those thoughts may drift to “what will I do when I retire?” For some, this may open up almost as many possibilities as the lottery dream, for others the question may raise worries of what to do with your days, previously spent at work.

My dream was to live in France, in the house we had bought as a holiday home over 27 years ago. I had planned on retiring aged 50 but the twists and turns of life that we all have, meant that for me, my plans were put back to age 60.

I had the idyllic view of pottering around my garden, planting, weeding, growing veg and spending my days doing all those crafty projects I’d never had time to do while I was working. I’d make my own bread, cook delicious meals made from fresh produce from local markets and the potager. It sounds all too Disney, doesn’t it?

Needless to say, I was ready for retirement. Not because I was tired and exhausted but because for me, the possibilities were endless. My hubby on the other hand, was apprehensive. He had worked for the same company for 43 years, starting as an apprentice aged 16 after leaving school. It was all he’d known, working hard, providing

for his family, grabbing overtime when he could. He had worked his way up the company ladder and held a senior position with heavy responsibilities.

We had discussed the issue of his retirement several times on the run up to my retirement and for all his denial, I could tell he was apprehensive. We were making two very big lifestyle changes by retiring and moving to another country. What would he do to fill his days? He wasn’t keen on gardening, there were renovations in the house to turn it from holiday home to forever home, but when all that was done, what would he do? How would he adjust to being in the house all day? How would I adjust to having someone in the house all day? We knew we loved holidays in our French house, but would living there be so very much different?

The truth be told, I was a little worried about him because he had headed a large team and was used to telling people what to do. I, on the other hand, don’t really like being told what to do.

It was going to be interesting either way.

Covid and of course Brexit turned our plans completely upside down. We were not the only ones, I know. Many of you will have similar tales of ferry crossings with removal vans, moved, postponed and rebooked. I had to leave Him Indoors in the UK so at least one of us was in France before 31st December 2020 to ensure our UK withdrawal residency rights. Hubby was to follow, hopefully by November 2020 with the remaining furniture, travel restrictions allowing.

I left the UK in September 2020 and suddenly my big French adventure had begun. My job was to start sorting the house, removing the items that were ok for holidays but wouldn’t stand up to use every day.

Also, I had to start making sure we had all the administration in place to ensure we were legally resident in France. I knew that France was famed for its love of paperwork, you only have to look at the stapled receipts you get when buying anything, but I admit I underestimated the sheer amount of paperwork needed to get our residency permits, healthcare, insurances, mutuelle, income tax and our car registered from UK plates to French plates. Driving licenses were a whole world of pain and uncertainty as there was no agreement between the UK and France, on what was required following Brexit! The rumours and misinformation were frankly alarming at the time.

Before leaving the UK, I had researched what paperwork we would need to complete the above and whilst on furlough (seen as a practice run for retirement) I set about compiling our dossier.

If you haven’t made the move yet or have only just made the move, I advise an A4 artists display book, as there are see through document pockets and no punch holes to rip out. I made sure that we had new copy birth certificates in both English and French, our marriage certificate (original and copies in English and French), our previous divorce papers only in English,

my previous marriage certificate in both English and French, copies of P60s, driving licenses, passports, NHS numbers, NI numbers and all the above were in both paper and digital forms. I’m so glad I did all of that. If you are a divorced and remarried lady, you will need a name change trail from birth to present. In France, a lady is always known by her birth surname on official documents.

Our dossiers were underway.

Getting Settled In

My first port of call was our village Mairie. I knew the secretary and knew she spoke some English, which would be handy if I got stuck, but wanted to try my best in French. I’m living here now and I need to make the effort. I met with the Maire and informed them that I was now a permanent resident of the village and that I wanted to be an active member of the community. Also, that hubby would be f ollowing on by Christmas so we registered him at the same time.

The next item on the list was trying to get the car changed onto French plates. There are Facebook groups that deal with this and I fell upon a good one. The recommendation was that I used a ‘hand holder’ as you need a French social security number to access the ANTS system (French driver and vehicle licensing system). I couldn’t get an SS number until I had my Carte Vitale (medical card) and as we had to wait three months in permanent residence before I could apply for a CV,

it seemed like the sensible thing to do. I looked on the FB group list of hand holders and contacted the one nearest to us. This was a good choice as she also helped with our residency permit applications and our Carte Vitale applications. Using a hand holder certainly smoothed the process out and the same lady also helped with our first tax return in France.

By the time hubby and the furniture arrived, we were well on the way to being sorted. As we were under confinement and curfew, we spent a very quiet first Christmas, just us two. It wasn’t so bad, because even if we had stayed in the UK, we wouldn’t have been able to see family, so better to be settling in on our new adventure together.

Although the above paragraphs make the transition sound very straightforward, I don’t want to bore you with the sleepless nights caused by changing covid travel restrictions, one of us in each country, getting stressed over can we, will we, is that allowed, is that the right thing to do? Conversations. The tears from us both as hubby stood on an empty train platform in Crewe, his train was delayed due to line works and he had one chance to get to London for the Eurostar as his flights had been cancelled.

Then there’s all the drama of the ‘out of curfew drive’ to Poitiers, to collect him because his TGV had been cancelled and the tears from me on New Years Eve because I’d broken a tooth and didn’t know how to get a dentist.

Our first year

Our first year was busy, even allowing for covid restrictions. By May 2021 we had residency permits, a Carte Vitale each, a mutuelle each, car insurance, house insurance, bank accounts and a tax return made. We had even bought a French car. I was particularly proud of this because I’d done it all in French, even asking for a discount as we had no part-exchange vehicle. I don’t even know if that is a thing here, but I asked and I received. So far, so good. We had survived the first five months of retirement and hardly a cross word.

We’d had the roof replaced on the garage and outbuildings, a new gas boiler installed and with the wood salvaged from the old roof supports, hubby had made some raised beds for veg.

For the full story of these, see magazine issue one. We were adjusting well, we agreed.

Hubby had, to the astonishment of us both, found a liking for veg growing, something we could do together. He had ample opportunity to expand his love of photography whilst I joined a sketching group, so things we could do separately or together. I would sketch and he would take photos of some of the lovely villages and glorious coastline we lived near to and could now enjoy whenever we wanted. Breakfasts of fresh croissants, lovely butter, homemade jam and rich coffee, taken outside on the patio nearly every day was an added bonus for two retirees brought up in NW England. We didn’t need to rush off anywhere and it was wonderful. ‘Market day’, ‘bin day’ and ‘the day the boulangerie doesn’t deliver’ marked the days.

One of the added bonuses of being retired is that you don’t need to go to places over a weekend. Leave that for the families and workers, we can take advantage of the quieter times. In our area, that’s not Wednesday afternoons as the schools tend to be closed and places get busy. We glory in exploring, finding lovely villages, cafes with a view or a history; we don’t even need to travel far.

We found that train travel is cheaper for people aged 60+, so a trip to Paris was made by TGV. No stress, no searching for a hotel with parking and the long-stay car parking at the train station was free, even for five days. We will be exploring more by train this year.

We had, with the guidance of a neighbour, found a doctor who was taking on patients and registered with him. Again I was pleased because I was able to conduct the conversation in French. I have no doubt my accent and pronunciation was abysmally funny to him, but he managed to keep a straight face, to his credit. He sent us for blood tests, mammogram (me not hubby) we had colorectal tests and I have a letter for some other general girly tests. We are both triple vaccinated. Fortunately we haven’t had to put much of the French health service to the test, but so far so good. We feel safe and cared for.

Going Forward

So we begin year two. We are beginning to get into a routine. We understand more of French life. The language we are using is turning from the holiday French phrases to the everyday words we need, but it’s happening so subtly that I’m not noticing. It’s only when we went to celebrate Epiphany, January 6th, Galette des Rois, with our lovely neighbours that we realised. We were invited at 4pm and left at 7pm having

held conversations all afternoon with no awkward moments. There was even à risqué joke!

This spring, we are making further renovations to the house interior. Hubby loves to project manage and mostly I’m the apprentice. Do we argue? Of course we do! However, we are not as confrontational as we could be, considering we are together mostly 24/7. We have learned to speak out if something doesn’t sound right, to ask, to apologise and to understand.

Did we do the right thing? Oh yes. For us, so far, it really has been the right decision.

Do we miss family? Very much so. Thank goodness for technology allowing video calls over the internet, but you just can’t give hugs over Face Time. I did return to the UK in December to see the grandchildren I’ve missed so much. Hubby worried that I’d reconnect with the things, people and places I’d missed and wouldn’t want to come back. Oh it was lovely giving those hugs for real but I couldn’t wait to get home to France.

One thing I still haven’t managed yet, is to carry out the long term married telepathic instructions, such pass me a thingy (which thingy exactly)? Nor have I quite managed to do as I’m told!

Footnote:

If you are reading this as a spring chicken, thinking you have years to sort out your retirement, my one piece of advice is look into starting a personal pension. It’s never too early to start and if it means a few bottles of wine less a month now, you could be thankful later.

Doe Xx