I WAS standing inside the polythene tunnel that served and still serves as a greenhouse. I was clearing it out when my eyes alighted on a plastic-rubber foot-stool. I smiled to myself as I picked it up, brushed off the dirt and noted the brand name. It was provocatively named Rubbermaid.

It sounded more like a product one could procure from one of those shops with blackened windows but that was not the reason I smiled.

I was sorting out what was accurately described as The Folly, the piece of land we purchased in The Limousin, France, back in 2002 for £1,600, shortly after we had bought the almost gardenless house down the road for £18,500.

“You will need a folly,” Ellie said at the time. She was imagining me at a perpetual loose end in France when we retired, lost without the 24/7 considerations of local journalism.

So, when looking for a garage to hire or buy, I was offered a piece of land with a substantial garage and two stone outhouses, big enough to develop into rooms. I jumped at the chance, for I have always enjoyed working on the land, although I thought it would involve a relatively modest investment of my time, and so began what proved to be a 10-year love affair with The Folly.

Contrary to expectations of casual visits, I was to spend many hours enjoying the tranquillity and the fresh air as I undertook landscaping, concreting, digging and planting. I enjoyed the sound of the birds, the regular visit by the local woodpecker and the cranes flying over every late October and March as they commuted from the Baltic to Spain and back in vast v-formations of squawking squadrons.

Their passing overhead always signalled the end of the warmer section of autumn or the promise of spring.

Occasionally Donna-Long-Legs, our neighbour, would drop in for a chat after taking our old dog Hugo for a walk but usually it was just me and countryside and the views.

Yes there was the occasional passing car or tractor and on match days, I could hear the shouts of the local players and spectators at the stadium down in the valley, but generally it was wall to wall tranquillity.

By the time I celebrated my 70th birthday with a barbecue, the work was complete, the flowers and plants were in full bloom and I had achieved the aim. I resisted drinking too much because I wanted to enjoy the setting. The Folly looked just as I had envisaged and had never looked so good.

After that, I felt a little flat and very soon Ellie was talking about moving further south. Her argument was it would be livelier, busier, warmer and, I suspect the key issue, nearer the youngest grand-daughter in Spain.

Moving was the last thing I wanted to do but gradually I came to terms with the concept. When Her-Indoors gets an idea, it is best to entertain it.

Socially things were beginning to fragment since the English couple, who had become good friends, sold the bar in the neighbouring village, and, while I had completed The Folly, there was a vacuum similar to that experienced when I retired from work.

I noted I spent very little time up The Folly, now it was complete. An hour in the morning, perhaps a half hour in evening, after taking the dogs for a walk was probably the most time I spent there: a big contrast to the previous years.

I had poured more money than sense into the project but in all fairness (as they tend to say nowadays), I had imagined I was going to stay in The Limousin until my time to be planted in the graveyard just 60 yards away.

But Ellie's suggestions began to take root.

So we left The Limousin at a time when French property was and still is extremely hard to sell. Our house is still available, along with many others. But, some 14 months later, in May, we accepted an offer and a deposit for The Folly and, while our names are still on the deeds, they will be removed legally when the rest of the money is forthcoming. It is a gentleman’s agreement, a warm handshake and so the new owners, Dave-Up-Road and Donna-Long-Legs are converting the area to their needs.

They know how much work has been put into the exercise and it is fitting they should now own the acre plot.

We have not been under any pressure but it was always understood that we would clear the buildings and take some of the many plants this autumn and Dave would come down with his van chock full of our last belongings.

So last week we headed north to The Limousin and stayed at The Folly. It has hot water, a kitchen, toilet, cooker, fridge, microwave and a bed but we were without telephone or internet, hence the lack of a column on this site last week.

(Continued next week).