GOODBYE TO LEZELE

 

It’s been over a year since I packed up the remaining furniture. The house has stood practically empty apart from a few pieces of Breton furniture, and during the summer months there had been a concerted effort on behalf of Sarah the estate agent to sell the place. That side of the story is way too long and boring to go into now, but suffice to say the entire property proved impossible to sell, due to one of the neighbours of an abandoned house refusing to sign and regularise the right of way to the entrance that I have used for the past thirty years. I have given instructions for it to go back on the market at a much reduced price.

  As I sit here in the dimly lit interior, the house already no longer feels like mine. What made this my home has already gone, but there is still enough left within the rooms I created to bring back memories, and I’m glad to say they are all good one. Here in the gloom of the great fireplace I have passed many an evening with friends. In earlier times the fire was open and the smoke rose up through the massive chimney, where in the spring the swallows would make there nests. Installing a wood burning stove created a vast increase in efficiency, but there is nothing like an open fire. One Christmas I spent five days without electricity and cooked here, just as they would have done in time past. Now, people, conversation, and laughter return to me. The granites that surround me have seen so much during the three centuries and this fireplace has remained the hub of the house. Little has changed apart from the subject under discussion.

In those early years both animals and people entered by the front door. The cattle turned to the left, and occupied approximately half of the ground floor. If you’ve ever spent time in a cow shed you can imagine the smell. Living under the same roof with large herbivores is not that bad and the added warmth they gave was extremely important. That close relationship between man and beast was very different to today, were a disconnection allows us to accept the most unthinkable cruelty without question. The family would have lived on the ground floor, sleeping in box beds and eating around one table placed in front of the only window. The first floor has extremely low ceiling and would have been reserved for storing the farm produce. There were at this point in time very few farm buildings, and many of these would have been simple wooden construction visible now only in old photographs. Thirty years ago, when I first arrived here there was no electricity and no water. There have been improvements, but for those who enjoy the supposed comforts of a modern house this must seem like a museum.

There is so much more than just a late 17th century farm house on offer. Adjoining is my studio and at the rear a large garden, which although now somewhat neglected had been very productive.. Running at right angles to the main house is a second house that I once ran as a gallery. The ensemble is for sale at 205,000 euros.

 I am not sad to be leaving. I’ve enjoyed my time here and know I will be passing it on to other, who will no doubt have very different ideas from my own as to how one lives within these walls. The house or rather houses still hold tremendous potential, but my time here is over. I’m sure there will remain traces of me here for decades to come, from walls that I’ve built to trees that I’ve planted. I like to think I made a difference, and that my time here had some value. Further afield there lies scattered my artworks and writing, some of which will no doubt outlive those who have known me. Without daubing it in paint, carving it into tree trunks or scratching it in stone I have left my mark. I WAS HERE, GOODBYE LEZELE.