Canal Lateral a la Garonne, Aquitaine. We traveled to France from Malaysia last November - to find the rural French countryside even more picturesque than we had imagined.
The calm waters of the nearby canal reflected the tall and stately plane trees which lined both banks, a carpet of burnished copper coloured leaves glinting in the quiet sunlight. Fields stretched across the horizon; outside our door we stepped straight into an enclosed garden, the ground littered with edible chestnuts and walnuts, and a white painted wrought iron gate led us directly into a vineyard, where a few bunches of grapes were clinging tenaciously to the late blooming vines.
Chateau Maurignac, Caumont sur Garonne. The Chateau Maurignac, standing massively with three towers in the middle of the already harvested fields, provided all the home comforts we needed - including a wood burning fire.
The windows and front door all shelter behind stout wooden shutters, opened only in fine weather by the French, but we prefer the touch of daylight to living like a mole in the darkness.
Our most immediate purchase was a car - a white 5 seater diesel Renault, rather elderly, but which to date has suited us very well, having delivered us safely through France and Belgium to the Netherlands and to England on several separate occasions. The back seats fold up giving us plenty of cargo space, which it seems is necessary as we have had to transport all our worldly possessions, first from Le Havre where they ended up coming in from Malaysia, and then (having expanded considerably since we arrived) in several stages up to Kampen in Holland.
The river barge Tureluur on the way to the painters yard in Kampen. 
Driving past a row of windmills in the freezing depths of winter.Arriving at a residential address in the heart of Amsterdam we found ourselves in a narrow side street, unable to trace a building number that we had been given. As Deirdre peered at various doorways a voice hollered from above - this was our broker.
Unfortunately the man didn't have a car, so we were forced to unpack some of the boxes (we had been to Le Havre to pick up our stuff) and leave them in his house, and Deirdre squeezed into the resulting space.
Luxury barges lining the frozen river in Groningen.It seems extraordinarily busy, with bicycles appearing from all directions, determinedly exercising their right of way at all costs.
The main thoroughfares are congested and appear to the uninitiated, to be a tangled web of over- and under-passes, intersections and ramps.
It must have been just as confusing to our broker, who although he vehemently declared himself to be familiar with our route, proceeded to get us lost with in a few miles. We pulled over at a petrol station for a break, and when we returned to the car our broker gave us some unwelcome news.
He was going to charge us 100 Euro - a daily compensation for his efforts at showing us boats for sale... Mike and Deirdre looked at each other in incredulous astonishment. Mike turned the car around, back the way we had come, brooking no further argument or conversation.
We had never heard of a broker charging a daily fee for merely looking at boats. Their payment is the commission percentage fee they get having sold a boat. If we hadn't had to go back to get our boxes we would have left our friendly broker on Shank's pony.
Tall ships waiting for summer visitors to arrive on the river at Kampen in the Netherlands. Another broker we came across was Peter, who advertises widely, especially in the English language papers and magasines. He showed us a selection of boats, concentrating on the type power boat that Mike was particularly interested in.
Unfortunately he showed us boats that were listed somewhat out of our price range, ignoring (to his peril) our indications that there might be other vessels we might be keen to see, especially the type that Deirdre had shown an interest in. He also talked continuously, giving us the benefit of his opinions and viewpoints, apparently ignoring the fact that we are both somewhat familiar with boats.
The next broker we met proved to be an excellent authority on old Dutch barges - especially the beautiful larger hotel and residential barges that line the all the picturesque city waterways of the region.
He was a fountain of useful information, and arriving at his office on a bicycle (did I say that everyone bikes around the cities?) took us in his car to see a lovely power cruiser that Mike really liked.
This boat had been converted for year round live-aboard use, and was attractively laid out. Unfortunately it was too tall to go through some of the small bridges on the French waterways, and Mike wasn't able to stand up in the bedroom and shower accommodation. He was very unhappy, as this would have been the boat of his dreams.
Finally we contacted the last broker on our list, first making positively sure that he would not be charging a daily fee to show us around.
He took us to see a river barge that had been converted to living accommodation, although the current owners did not live on board. It was priced a little high and was a few meters longer than Mike really liked, but we eventually arrived at a compromise price and became the owners of the barge Tureluur.
One of the few remaining old windmills that we saw. Henry has turned out to be really, really helpful - doing far more than we would normally expect from any yacht broker.
Luckily Mike has also done some serious research, reading and researching on the Internet, everything he can about boats and barging in Europe. And we also have a couple of friends who own barges, so we were able to gather what turned out to be some very pertinent and important information.
There are some horror stories out there, so it pays to be as well informed as possible.
Apparently our barge had been painted quite recently (it was difficult to see as everything was covered in snow and frost). We understood that the owner had employed unskilled labour and they had painted over everything, including rust and rivets, with little or no concern.
He (the owner) also had a page from an old survey which, although inconclusive, showed the potential for some weak spots on the hull after the lapse of several years.
The beach outside the walled city of St Malo, on the north coast of France. Henry advised us that the ship should be sandblasted and repainted, which we were willing to accomplish, but we insisted that a surveyor examine the hull before we signed any papers.
Arno, a big, beefy and friendly Dutchman turned up with his big hammer (and a few other more technical instruments) on the appointed day, and proceeded to hammer the bejaysus out of the hull.
He found a few weak spots.
Street leading to the well known Abbey in in Moissac.We had heard that sandblasting is a pretty vicious way of cleaning up a boat, and that alone can uncover problems with an old hull.
Arno had decided that the barge was iron - not steel as the owner claimed, and the boat was built in 1912 (Big 00 birthday next year!). Thus it was riveted, not welded, and the rivets should also be examined when cleaned up.
Our information - gleaned from an unknown source - maintained that the current owner may be held responsible for hull defects and may also be liable for any costs associated with those repairs. We arranged that a sum of money be held in escrow to cover the cost of any hull repairs that might have to be done before we signed off on the final payment.
Currently, the boat is in the painters yard, some extra welding on the underside has been finished and a nice coat of protective epoxy paint is all over the hull. The ship is just waiting for a last coat of shiny blue paint and she will be ready for us to take over.
Arno has declared that everything is as ship shape as possible on a hull that is almost 100 years old, and Henry is storing most of our goods and chattels in his garage, pending our arrival.
View of typical house in our area of France.Hopefully spring will be upon us when we arrive in the cooler north.
Today we have been relaxing outside in our little garden in sunshine and temperatures in the 20's, listening to the birds - between packing up even more boxes and clearing out of our accommodation.
