A tribute M


Everybody needs good neighbours – and Debbie Folkes found a gem when she bought her home in Normandy over 30 years ago


Drinks for a friend's birthday, with Monsieur H on the leſt and Debbie, right


onsieur H came into our lives on the very day that we first viewed our


house, La Trace, on 1 July 1989. He was what the estate agent described as the old retainer who came with the house, who kept his sheep in the orchard and who looked after the garden in return for a few ‘sous’. The people we bought the house from described him as a peasant, though I hope that they were being more kind than that sounds. That day he attended the


viewing, keen to demonstrate the thickness of the walls and general soundness of the property. He was wearing what


we came to recognise as his uniform – blue overalls – that he rarely deviated from over the years. There was also an ever- present flat cap. It transpired that his wife had


lived in the house as a child, when it was a barn-like place with cattle fodder stored on the first floor, so there was a family affinity with the property. Having discovered that


ownership of a house and what eventually became 3.5 acres of land needed tools, garden equipment and quite some maintenance, Monsieur H became pretty invaluable. We struck a deal on rate per hour, not liking the sound of the old arrangement, and soon he was


Grandcamp Maisy is a favourite local spot to visit


volunteering for everything from lawn mowing to decorating. Or rather, Madame volunteered him. He was always pretty slow, though not always meticulous and we have many an area of over-painting to this day. He also developed a habit of turning up to cut the lawn while I was lying on a lounger in a bikini, and marching across to shake hands.


The house now (top) and on the day Debbie viewed it, with Monsieur H 78 FRENCH PROPERTY NEWS: March/April 2024


JUST A LITTLE ONE One of his other habits was turning up for an evening apéritif on his way home – from where I don’t know, but it was clear that ours wasn’t the only house he stopped at. This didn’t apply of course if Madame was in tow and they had been formally invited for drinks. She would consume only a “tout petit peu” while he would try to insinuate that that’s all he wanted too. A shrug and a “bah” would ensue if we insisted he had another and down the hatch it would go. Sometimes he would arrive by bike (my old one) and we would watch


worriedly as he set off up the road. Over the years it became clear that he often awarded himself a nip of our Calva and beer as stock ‘evaporated’ at an alarming rate between visits and we are still finding beer bottles hidden in the garden. We have attended various


family functions, including his 70th and 80th. Last year he turned 90 and we were able to see him the day before, the first time we had seen him for two years owing to him being vulnerable and isolating with Madame. His parties were always typically French, going on for hours (and hours) and involving the whole family and lots of friends, along with copious amounts of food and different drinks with each course. The family is large, with five children and 11 grand- children, so they were always lively events. He didn’t go on many


holidays, in fact, only a couple that fell outside of visits to family in all the years we knew him and Madame. We know


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