It wasn’t that long ago that I was searching through endless websites and visiting many local villages to try and find a French house for my brother who was looking for a holiday home.
By chance, I stumbled upon a grand old derelict family house that had been up for sale for 3 years, and although it wasn’t suitable for what he wanted, it interested me enough to go and have a look the following day. Being a builder, I saw an enormous potential, obviously more so than prospective buyers from the 70 visits it had had in that time, so I set the wheels in motion and started asking around the neighbourhood for any information they may be be willing to divulge.
I’d already painstakingly renovated one property here in the South of France, 6 years of hard work from practically a bare shell, so I’m about to relive the same experience yet again. Offer accepted, I continued my research, visited the Mairie, introduced myself, had more chats with the townsfolk, and generally got a really good feeling about this new place.
One recent visit turned up some interesting information – the neighbour had told me that he’d met a small group of lady walkers in front of the house a week before, who had told him that the house was once used as an overnight stop for pilgrims travelling the Road to Compostela in Spain. They pointed out the door knocker with the scallop shells designs, and said that once, pilgrims would search out buildings like that one to rest the night.

As I wanted a name for what will be a gîte, I’d racked my brain for a sensible one, nothing having sprung to mind. Now, I need think no longer, I’ll name it ‘La Maison des Pèlerins’, the French for Pilgrims House.