Le diable m’a vu – one of my wife’s favourites when things keep going wrong!
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It takes a real man to admit he was in the wrong Peter. If you have done so then good for you ! Too many men don’t know how to apologise IMHO 
You’re very generous Ann. I confess I don’t know what a real man is, and I certainly don’t at all feel that it’s something I could lay claim to. My father once said to me in anger, “You’re no son of mine!”, when I was about 11.
I didn’t take it literally, just figuratively, but he was a man of his time a time when men didn’t take kindly to women answering back, and saw it as their right and their duty to physically chastise their wives if they spoke out of turn. But I never forgot his anger and disappointment in me, for not showing interest in sport, or fishing.
But we learn our roles from our parents, and from the surrounding culture, and perhaps I over-compensated for the humiliation of being spurned by my Dad.
I owe everything to my wife, and to our children, who have shown me how to change. I think my wife’s culture has helped too, she is African, and our children have inherited her values, rejecting materialism, and embracing the principles of collectivism over individualism, and authenticity over ostentation and “show”.
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Well done for acknowledging that Peter and not so well done for having to.
We are much happier without our families causng difficulties and it is good to hear that you are now getting on better.
What a strange house you must live in.
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The house is really lovely, with spacious rooms, many, many tall windows letting in so much light and air.
It is strange in that its ‘footprint’ is in a fork in the road and there is no land at all surrounding the footprint. It’s length is in line with the parish church 500 metres distant. From a feng shui perspective it is not propitious, and would be shunned by anyone Chinese!
The garden is huge, and situated across thr road from the house, but not overlooked, and very fertile. At the end of the garden the land slopes steeply down into the valley of the Sée, a densely wooded valley with a fast-running river famous for its trout.
The house is not child-friendly because all its doors open front and rear onto the street. It used to house a restaurant and chambres d’hote ssrving the old railway station less than 50 metres distant.
The last three owners have been Brits, but none have stayed long, perhaps because the property tax is very high, and because none of them, by all accounts, spoke French,and were unable to find work.
But we love it and feel immersed and acknowledged by our near neighbours and the wider community. The house itself is so prominently and unusually situated that everyone knows it, and we are seen crossing from the house to the garden umpteen times a day. There is regular pedestrian traffin past our glazed front door and kitchen window. When gardening I leave my wellies on the doorstep which is also the street trottoir, so as not to muddy the parquet.
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It sounds a fascinating property… and I can (almost) visualise you pottering off to the garden and back…chatting with folk as you pass them… fabulous !
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It sounds a lovely quirky house.
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In 2013 ish, there was an upbeat french pop song that I heard regularly whilst driving, which always made me smile…the chorus was “C’est ne pas grave”…Which reminds me of thar sequence in Monty Python & the holy grail…"It’s only a flesh wound’…I have a weakness for black humour…it is often so truthful…If anyone knows the song/title/performer…I would be interested, (couldn’t find on Youtube)…
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Is this it Hilary ?
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It sounds as though you live in a big airy house. Is there any particular reason that that house has appealed to British buyers? My nearest British neighbours are the third British occupants of that property despite it being advertised by a number of Immobiliers it only seemed to attract British viewers. Neighbouring houses have changed hands during the same time period but French families in those have always been replaced by another French family.
I gather that previous British and an Australian occupant(s) were drawn to what they considered to be its potential as a chambres d’hôte, its earler incarnation,and thus a source of income. Three of the bedrooms still have numbers on their doors! But its former popularity rested on its very close proximity to the railway which connected the town, and the many busy mills and factories along the Valley of the Sée, with the coast. The town has tended to attract a lot of middle class French families looking for a home in a rather beautiful but not completely isolated rural France, and less than two hours by rail from Paris, and 40 km from the coast at Mont-St-Michel, 70 km from Deauville and Riva Bella.
When the local railway line closed, the hotel was redundant, and anyway there are three small hotel-restaurants in town. I know our vendor made several attempts at business, all of which came to nought, and he spoke no French, my French neighbour tells me.
My wife and I are not rich but our pensions are at least adequate to cover essential costs for a reasonably secure retirement here, unless Brexit is catastrophic in any number of ways,which I think we are sufficiently resilient to survive. We think we chose well to live here, and have absolutely no regrets or intentions to go back to UK.
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Our house has had many lives too… but we only wanted a home. It appealed to us as it was overlooking a glorious valley, yet in the heart of a small village… we often think of Brigadoon when the mists sweep up from the valley floor and enclose our little pocket of heaven… 
I should add… we are the first English to buy this house… no French person wanted the hassle/hard work to put it right… this is what the rest of the villagers told us and they were really chuffed when we arrived.
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Sadly, no, but thanks for trying…There seem to be a large number of entries for this search…
It has a much more upbeat, lighthearted Summery sound…
I did wonder when I heard the rap version 
I have an annoying tendency to say “basically “ in English. In French it’s probably “ franchement “.
I like Sadek 
c’est pas graaaave…
il peut comme une vache qui pisse
Pleut 
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Pleut-être 
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pardon je parle comme une vache espangole