A fool and his money

So the world is in financial meltdown, property prices are plummeting, mortgage rates are rocketing and anyone with any sense simply buries their head in the sand and waits for it all to pass.

Particularly us - we live in a renovated flat with views of the Luberon Hills just minutes from Lourmarin. Our tenancy is secured and the rate can only rise by the small yearly amount allowed by the French government. I know we should sit tight particularly since our various tenuous business ventures flirt with profit about as frequently as Elton John a beautiful woman.

Instead we’ve being talking to architects and builders about a plot of land we’ve seen. It’s the usual fool’s gold story, a falling down house with foundations about as stable as Bear Stern’s balance sheet. In this case the rescue bid has come to late and the whole edifice has to be smashed down, and a new sparkling house resurrected in its place.

The views would be just as spectacular as our current flat, the walk to the village even shorter and Tanya and I would have the family house we crave. The problem is I don’t really have a job and for the last three years or so our life philosophy seems to be that things will get better in the end. They haven’t yet, but they will eventually won’t they?

So we lie in bed awake at night, listening to the squawks of our baby daughter, thinking about which way to face the new house to defend it from the howling mistral and then in the morning half light the worries descend and eat away at us…is this just one risk too far?

But it’s a beautiful location, with a view of the hills, within walking distance of the local school, outside a village we love.