10/04/2026
Sometimes dreams take decades to happen — and sometimes they arrive in the middle of a global pandemic. We were all on a journey, this is mine.
Long before moving to France was a plan, it was just a quiet idea that had followed me since childhood.
When my mother married a Breton, our family holidays changed direction. Instead of British seaside trips, we went to Finistère on the wild western edge of Brittany.
I remember the salty Atlantic air, tiny boulangeries, and villages that felt older than anything I’d ever seen in England. Somewhere during those holidays, a small voice settled in my mind and stayed there for decades:
One day, I’ll live in France.
Life, of course, took its time catching up with that idea.
I lived in the Lake District, surrounded by fells, rain, and the quiet beauty of northern England. But the thought of France never really disappeared. It sat patiently in the background until eventually the moment arrived. When the Brexit deadline loomed ominously like a very dark and gray cloud.
Strangely enough, that moment also came during a global pandemic.
In September 2020, during that brief pause between lockdowns when the world was trying to convince itself that normal life might return, we packed up the car and left England.
My destination was Eymet, a small bastide town in the south of Dordogne surrounded by vineyards and sunflower fields. It was rural, peaceful, and just unfamiliar enough to feel like an adventure.
I had retired early to do it.
My husband, Jim, hadn’t. He still had eighteen months of work ahead of him before he could retire. That meant when we arrived, unlocked the door, and stepped into our new life in France… we were together for only three weeks before he had to return to work, after that, I was alone.
Well, almost alone.
There were two dogs, which helped enormously.
Moving to a new country normally means exploring. Wandering markets. Drinking coffee in cafés. Getting lost in villages. Meeting neighbours.
But this was 2020.
France was still living under COVID restrictions, and suddenly life shrank down to something much smaller than I’d imagined.
I couldn’t really explore.
I couldn’t really meet people.
Even simple things like shopping sometimes felt complicated.
My French wasn’t much help either. Like many people, I had the school version of the language — just enough to order a croissant, not enough to follow the news on television. The TV would chatter away while I sat there catching maybe one word in ten.
Some days the quiet felt peaceful. Other days it felt very, very big.
Our village had an English community — maybe ten percent — which at that time felt like a safety net. Familiar accents floating across hedges or down a lane reminded me that I hadn’t completely cut myself off from the world.
Still, most days it was just me and the dogs walking the same country paths.
Eighteen months is a long time when you’re waiting for your life to begin properly.
One moment from that first winter still sticks with me.
The UK government suddenly announced a halt to travel into the country. Talk of hotel quarantines started appearing everywhere. Borders, restrictions, rules — all shifting constantly.
Sitting in rural France, watching those announcements, I remember feeling completely lost.
England suddenly felt very far away.
France still felt unfamiliar.
And the world seemed to be closing doors rather than opening them.
It’s a strange feeling to realise you’re somewhere between two countries and neither one feels fully reachable.
But slowly, time moved forward.
And eventually February 2022 arrived.
By the time Jim arrived for good in February 2022, France wasn’t completely new to him. He had spent some of his annual leave visiting during those eighteen months when the pandemic allowed, so he already knew the house, the village, and the rhythm of the place.
But retirement changed everything.
Suddenly we weren’t living between two countries anymore. We were actually building a life here.
Jim already played golf, something he’d enjoyed for years. I’d never really tried it before, but France has a way of encouraging new habits. Before long we joined Golf de Barthe, a beautiful course tucked into the countryside of Lot-et-Garonne.
Jim returned to a familiar hobby. And I joined him when i discovered a completely new one.
And somewhere between fairways and slightly embarrassing beginner swings, life began to open up again.
During those eighteen months alone, I’d also started building something else.
My first business — working as a business coach, Biz Savvy (www.theleadcoach.biz)— began during that quiet period when I had plenty of time to think, plan, and reinvent what the next stage of life might look like.
It was a strange way to launch a business: sitting in a rural French house during a pandemic, building something online while the world outside felt paused.
But sometimes isolation forces clarity.
Later, once life in France had started to feel more stable, I launched a second project: an online platform created specifically for English speakers (www.biz-ou.com).
In a way, both businesses grew out of that same experience — navigating change, building something new, and figuring out how to create connection even when you’re starting somewhere unfamiliar.
The moment everything truly clicked came during our first summer in France together.
That was when we discovered the things I had completely missed during my first year alone.
The gourmand markets.
The night markets.
Long evenings that drift slowly from food to wine to laughter.
Suddenly village squares were full of life. Tables appeared under strings of lights. People brought friends, neighbours, and bottles of wine. Strangers chatted like old acquaintances.
And of course, there was the Apéro Cadiz.
Glasses clinking as the sun slowly disappeared behind the stone buildings. That easy French ritual of pausing the day just to enjoy being together.
Standing there one warm evening, surrounded by music, food, and people, I had a quiet moment of realisation.
This — this right here — was the life I had imagined all those years ago after those childhood holidays in Brittany. Such similarities to Brittany.
It had taken over four decades.
It had survived a pandemic.
It had even required eighteen months of living alone.
But eventually, the dream caught up with reality.
And France finally felt like home.
In many ways, the businesses that grew out of that time became my way of turning a difficult start into something meaningful. The business coaching began quietly while I was living alone in France, built through conversations, ideas, and the determination to create something of my own in a completely new chapter of life. Driven by my passion for small businesses. Later, the online platform for English speakers followed, born from the same understanding that starting over — in a new country, a new career, or a new stage of life — can feel overwhelming without the right support.
Both businesses are rooted in the same belief: that experience, encouragement, and the right guidance can help people move forward with confidence. Neither of these businesses are going to make me a millionaire, but I love them, and as long as they are paying for themselves I will continue with them. If my story resonates with you, the best way to support what I’ve built is simply to connect, share the work with others who might need it, and become part of the growing community that believes it’s never too late to start something new. 🌿
And of course, one of the things I’ve discovered since moving here is that no two journeys to France are ever quite the same. Some people arrive chasing a long-held dream, like I did. Others come for work, for love, for a change of pace, or simply because life nudged them in an unexpected direction.
So I’d love to hear your story too. Did you move to France, or are you dreaming about it? What brought you here — or what’s pulling you towards it? Every story starts somewhere, and one of the joys of this life is discovering just how many different paths lead people to the same place. If you feel like sharing, tell me how your French journey began — or where you hope it might take you next. 🇫🇷✨
