I CONFESS I had been sad to leave The Folly behind when we moved down to The Tarn 18 months ago but you adapt. I was talking to a friend during the trip back to The Limousin and he pointed out that I had lived in the Watford area all my life. Born in the town, I had lived there and then Chipperfield before returning to Watford at the age of 15.

Ten years later I had moved to Redheath on the Sarratt road where I stayed for just over 12 years and then resided in Sarratt for 26.

“When you move after being in one place, house or area a long time, you then tend to find it easier to move again,” my friend had said when I explained my surprise at not missing The Folly.

I reflected there was a lot of truth in that, because while I was initially sad to leave Sarratt, I certainly do not regret it or miss it now.

So The Folly had joined Redheath, Sarratt and Watford among my fond memories. A lot of energy and work had gone into it, but The Folly served its purpose. I had not envisaged accomplishing so much when I bought it. The plan and concept unfolded like a Russian doll until it became a place passing cars would slow or stop to look at “that mad Englishman’s creation”.

The French might boast famous gardeners like Le Notre but generally they treat the land surrounding the house with diffidence. The majority see it as an opportunity to produce their own vegetables so the idea of an Englishman converting an orchard to a garden is bizarre.

I suppose the development was born when y Ellie one day said we owned a field and “you can never turn it into a garden”. That comment triggered my focus to prove her wrong and I did.

When we first moved to Benevent in France, I noted that the new shower in one of the bathrooms in the house had to be raised in order for the drain to work. It was an 18-inch step down to a tiled floor and I attempted it a few times and felt I would do myself damage. I was over-weight, the legacy from restaurant reviews and a liking for curries and real ale. I was also 64 and the step would not get any easier, I surmised.

One day we came across a stool-step, some nine inches high, in a store and invested in that, enabling me to step down safely from the shower. It was produced by Rubbermaid.

I had played golf twice a week in the UK before I retired but I was far from fit. I realised that back in 2005 when I started pottering round The Folly. A year later, and two stone lighter, I was much fitter and that has continued right up until the present day.

The Folly gave me a focus, fresh air and enabled me to put my career and previous life behind me. I have played a few rounds of golf back in the UK but none in France. I had The Folly: so there was no need of golf or the frustration and the reminder that I would never make a consistent player.

The other day I was heading for the poly-tunnel, reflecting that when we bought the plot, it was so overgrown, we did not even know we had this greenhouse.

I stood there looking at what had been created out of a wilderness when I heard the familiar squawking from up above. The cloud was too low for me to discern the v-formation of cranes, a tad late for the get-together in Spain, but it was almost as if they were giving me a final fly-past.

Working in the poly-tunnel, I picked up the dirty foot-stool, saw it was branded Rubbermaid and smiled. It had been relegated to the greenhous years ago. You see, when I started to get fit, stepping down from the shower became effortless. I did not need an extra step, but coming across the stool reminded me who I was and the state I had been in.

Yes, The Folly had been good for me.