I had spent many months planning my escape. It relied on so many factors that I felt like a player in the Crystal Maze. All the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were starting to take shape and I was about to cut free!

I was moving lock, stock and 2 smoking barrels to France from London to start a new life after 15 years stuck in pollution and the rat race. I had bought a 300 year old house 3 years previously in a small village in SW France, in the Languedoc. A small amount of work had been done on the house, but was in no way it habitable.

I had sold my house in London after many false starts, lies from potential buyers and finally, in vague desperation, accepted an offer at a lower price than the asking price. On the web, I had found a South African guy who specialised in moves to France. The date was set. The furniture and 37 boxes were packed and I was ready.

The removers arrived. 2 hours later, a small van that looked like it had seen better days was filled with my worldly possessions, driven away and I was requested to join van and man later on that day. I duly arrived at the mans' home to be told by his wife that their best friend, who also does deliveries to Europe, was killed in a crash a few days previously. She asked me to make sure that I kept her husband awake during the long trip! Into the very uncomfortable van, Mike, the van driver, told me that he had never driven this van before. The gears groaned and crashed and we swayed along the main route from London to the port of Dover. Our ferry crossing was due at midnight. He happily announced that he had no intention of stopping during the trip, but was annoyed that the small diesel tank of his van meant that he was going to be forced to stop more than he desired, to fill her up.

Try making conversation to a stranger, who was on a different planet to the norm, at 4 am, while the van was being stretched to its beyond maximum speed! No sleep- did not dare to- many coffee and diesel stops- a bad sandwich and a sore brain from creating conversation on subjects that I didn't know anything about. 24 hours later, we arrived in my village. All stores and restaurants closed, so had to visit neighbours to beg for food and beer.

My house was now filled with boxes and furniture. In order to be able to live vaguely comfortably in the house, I had about 6 weeks of renovation work. Day 4- all went very wrong. Being the end of January, the weather can be very unpredictable. Well, I awoke to a light falling of snow. This was the first fall for 15 years. I continued to renovate. Snow started falling more heavily. Lights flickered, cut, came back on, and then cut. As my house relies totally on electricity for cooking, heat and hot water, this was mildly alarming. Inside temperature was nudging zero degrees C.

The next day, more snow fell, and still no electricity. The river Cesse was rising at an alarming rate and could threaten to flood the village. I continued to work, wearing 4 layers of damp clothes. My hands no longer belonged to my body and my feet were suffering from rising damp. I ate some cold food and dreamt of a hot cup of tea. By 5 pm, the whole village was covered by 12 inches of still falling snow, electricity was still a distant memory, and the river was about 8 inches from causing flood damage. The fire department was evacuating old people who may be threatened by flood, the Mayor was in attendance, and doorways were being blocked against rising water.

I decided that my life hung in the balance. I needed heat, hot food and a dry, warm bed. So, armed with a 5 litre box of red wine, I ventured out to see if friend number 1 was at home. She was not. I was soaked through by now in minus zero temperatures. Knocked on friend number 2s door. They were in! Also, they had a log fire burning, electricity and a beef stew cooking! Paradise! They took me in, looking and feeling like a dog that had fallen into an Artic flow. I took off all my 4 layers of wet clothes, borrowed dry ones, and sat , unmoving, by the fire for an hour. My voice had returned, as had my appetite and thirst. I spent a blissful 24 hours with them- fully recovered, but with a sore head form too much red wine. I returned to my home, and was overjoyed that the electricity had returned and that I was able to continue my work.

The floods did not arrive and no damage was done. The electricity had been cut due to trees falling on the wires. I have to admit that I did have momentary thoughts of questioning my madness of leaving an efficient city like London and decamping into a small 1000 population village of Bize Minervois, Aude, Languedoc.

Summer is now here. The weather is now 35 C every day and the river is my swimming pool. The cigales are screeching outside, the swallows and house martins swoop through the village in huge numbers, and all is wonderful in the world! The property market is very slow, though it is a perfect time for buyers looking for a retirement home and/or a holiday home on the west coast of the Mediterranean.

My baptism of snow seems like a distant nightmare.

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