Englishman Buys Bar 3 - Who needs marriage guidance councils? Just weigh the hassles of buying a French pub as a divorced couple.

By John Harries-Harries

Having decided to buy and run a French pub in partnership with his ex-wife (what's so odd about that?) John Harries-Harris runs up against the human side of French bureaucracy.

All the cats have to worry about is finding out that French Friskies contain vegetables .

26th Oct 2002

There are just over 3 weeks to E-day. Escape, Emigration, End of the known world, take your pick.

I usually sleep like a log, but the pressures are beginning to tell. I have a large abscess in my mouth which is uncomfortable, and we all seem to have colds and coughs .I occasionally wake very early, and the flood of concerns now prevent me getting back to sleep.

I have been busy clearing out a lifetime's collected ephemera. As a teenager and later through the first years of marriage, I was an 'old car' enthusiast. I had a couple of 1930's Riley cars which I drove to various rallies and competitions. 

Like most similar enthusiasts, I also gathered an enormous collection of magazines, books, and other odds and sods. I have always thought I would catalogue them one day, as they must be collector's items.

It was pointed out by the family that we were starting a new part of our lives, and that the mountain of books belonged to the past, so it should go. It was, of course, my decision.... 

I have learnt the signs now, so everything but my collection of hardback books has gone. It was quite a wrench, because of the memories, but as I had not read any of them for 12 years or more, I finally rationalised my thoughts.

The attic is clear, and the garage now looks like one, instead of being an obstacle course for a contortionist .We have officially sold the house. For those unfamiliar with England, it is 'sold - subject to contract'. This actually only means that someone says they will buy it, and that I have agreed a price with them. What often happens is that the buyer gets a better offer and sells to someone else (known as 'gazumping'), or the buyer drops their offer at the last minute, knowing that the seller is over a barrel. 

I shall not renege on my position, and we keep our fingers crossed that the buyer completes on time.

I have heard from the seller of bar-bonen. It is strange to be dealing with him whilst he is in Vietnam, and with his Notaire in France. The e-mail and modern communications really do shrink the world, and there are language tools to assist with the complicated bits of translation. (See Mike's comments at the end of this instalment). We will not meet him when he next visits France (for All Souls, a very important festival for Bretons), as he travels back to VN just before we arrive in the village. His wife has power of attorney so no doubt we will finish up signing for the bar with her.

Amongst all this routine activity, Chris and I have re-married. After our divorce, which came soon after an acrimonious exchange on the dawn of the 21st century, we exchanged months of insulting and often hurtful letters, phone calls and e-mails. It was a release of over 30 years of pent-up bad feeling, which I in particular, had never allowed to show. I had been someone who could go into my private world and ignore everything and anybody around me. I certainly wouldn't get into a discussion about it.

At this time, I also had what I consider a spiritual awakening. I am convinced my {dead} mother somehow came close to me one night, and guided me forward. I joined a healing group and started on a path of spiritual development. As well as this being such a change from my entrenched atheism, and a tendency to ignore the bits of the world I didn't like, I found I had a feminine side, which surprised me as much as it did my colleagues and friends.

I found that acquaintances and workmates saw that I was vulnerable and searching for my way forward, and the unconditional support I received allowed the wounds to heal. I came to terms with myself.

On a more practical level, Lucy had become 'best mate'. And very possessive. She wanted to be my mum and to replace Chris. This was fine at the time, but led to problems when her mum and I got back together. In a strange way, she had enjoyed being the woman of the house. She had learned that she could play one of us against the other for extra pocket money or trips out. Fortunately there had been no reason to sell our family home, and the reunion, when it came, was straightforward.

It is a strange sequence of events that led to the wedding. (I think you probably guessed it would be). We were in France at Easter, as usual, and the ambience was doing its customary healing and recharging of the batteries of life. 

We decided that it might be interesting to re-marry in France, but by the time we had gathered all the information to start proceedings, we had gone off the idea. We were quite content to be a couple again, and being reasonably in touch with modern attitudes, thought we would stay single.

Once we started to look seriously at buying the bar, we changed our minds.

I don't think it was the language difficulties, so much as the highly expressive faces and eyebrows of the French. To introduce ourselves as M. Harries-Harris, and Me. Harries-Harris was a mouthful enough. To reply to 'Vous êtes mariés?', with 'Non, divorcés!' became just too much.

Added to this were the practical problems we could foresee. We wanted to buy the bar in joint names, and to run the 'petite affaire' as a partnership. There were also the questions of pensions, wills, and other matters, which although not insurmountable, gave us the opportunity to rethink.

And so, with our children having to buy wedding presents for their parents, we married in the town where we met, surrounded by family and close friends. A magical day, and a suitable cornerstone to build our new life upon.

And still, life plays its jokes. My car radiator sprung a leak. I fitted a new one. The plug that houses the fan switch would not screw into the mounting hole. I took the car to the supplier of the radiator, and the Roger, the boss, said: "I'll run a tap through it and clear the thread. Only take 5 minutes."

An hour and a half later, having had to remove the radiator and replace the housing for the fan switch, Roger refused to accept any payment for his labours. I am so glad it happened in UK. Somehow I don't think my French extends to asking a French mechanic to clear my screw thread by running a tap through it!

* * *

If John plans to use a computer program to translate a French legal document, I want worldwide first serial publication rights on the story. Here's what the Google toolbar's autotranslator made of the home page for my bank, BNP Paribas:

Assurance Habitation : protégez-vous du grand méchant risque

Afin d'assurer une lisibilité optimale de BNP Net, nous vous conseillons d'utiliser une résolution d'écran de 800x600 ainsi que :

- la police 10 sous Netscape Navigator
- la police "plus petite" sous Microsoft Internet Explorer

In order to assure an optimal legibility of BNP Net, we advise you to use a resolution of screen of 800x600 like:

- the police force 10 pennies Netscape Navigator
- the "smaller" police force under Microsoft Internet To explore

Inflation seems to have set in somewhere along the line. When I was at school, 'sou' was translated as a halfpenny. If I tell you that the French for 'font' is 'police', you should be able to work out what happened inside the translator.

* * *

If you want to congratulate or encourage John (or sympathise with Chris and Lucy)  e-mail me with your thoughts or advice, or better still, write to the Notice Board.

Have fun.

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