A Winter’s Work: Progress at Point du Jour House
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about renovating an old house in rural France, it’s that things never go quite as planned. My recent trip to Point du Jour with my son-in-law Ben was no exception. We had grand plans—stay in the house, make solid progress, and settle into a rhythm of work and living. What we didn’t plan for? Minus 2°C temperatures and a house without heating.
The Cold Reality
We arrived full of enthusiasm, ready to camp out in the house for the week. That enthusiasm quickly faded when we stepped inside and could see our breath hanging in the air. The house was colder inside than it was outside, and after a few minutes of standing still, it felt like our bones were turning to ice. Needless to say, staying there as-is wasn’t an option.
Instead, we pivoted—because renovation is all about adapting, right? We spent the first day moving the house around, setting up a workable living space. The kitchen, dining, and lounge areas were all shifted into the main front room—the first space you walk into. We found some temporary heaters (lifesavers!) and even rigged up a makeshift sleeping area on the first floor. To keep the dust and chill off, we’re planning to sleep in tents… indoors. Who needs a proper bedroom when you can have glamping inside a construction site?
Mice, Mini Coffees, and Unexpected Wins
Of course, before we could settle in, there was the small matter of cleaning up. And by small, I mean a lot. Mice had clearly been enjoying their winter retreat in my absence, leaving little gifts in every corner. After several hours of sweeping, disinfecting, and questioning my life choices, we finally had a livable space.
All that hard work deserved a decent coffee. So off we went in search of one—only to end up at a KFC drive-thru, where I ordered what I thought would be a standard coffee. What I received was possibly the smallest coffee in the world. It came in a cup so tiny that I thought it was a joke. Given my love for a proper coffee, this was practically an insult. Lesson learned: stick to local cafés in future.
Exploring the Land and New Plans
One of the highlights of the trip was walking the land at the top of the road with Sam. He’s going to clear the bramble-infested jungle that’s currently there so we can properly see what we’re working with. This is the spot where I want to create the vegetable garden, with a cabin tucked away for a bit of self-sufficiency and relaxation. It’s also where I’ll set up a workspace—because the dream of working remotely while living simply needs good WiFi. And thanks to Starlink, that’s exactly what we’re planning to install.
Village Surprises and Smart Decisions
Another surprise of the trip? A bread vending machine in the village! We gave it a go, and out popped a warm baguette—just over a euro. I’ll admit, I was sceptical at first, but one bite in and I was converted. Fresh, warm bread at any hour? That’s France at its finest.
Back at the house, we made a few solid design decisions. We repositioned the bath, and even though the bathroom is far from being functional, just seeing it in place gave a glimpse of the finished space. The first floor is now cleared for sleeping, with some temporary electrics in place. I even set up a £15 desk I picked up off eBay, which now sits perfectly in the window overlooking the lake—a temporary but brilliant workspace.
What’s Next?
Despite the freezing temperatures, rodent clean-up duty, and the occasional questionable coffee, this trip was a huge success. We got things moved around, set up a space to live and work in, and made real progress toward making Point du Jour a proper home.
We’ll be back at the end of February to keep pushing forward. By then, the sleeping area should be fully set up, and maybe—just maybe—we’ll be one step closer to actually having a warm place to stay.
Until then, I’ll be dreaming of proper-sized coffees and warm, vending-machine-fresh baguettes.
