Beatrice and I, after years of English weather, decided that when I retired we would move to France. Not just a holiday home – we couldn't afford that. Well, we could, but we would have stretched our resources to the point of me selling myself on the street and Beatrice working until she was one hundred and seventy-five. So the decision was whether to endure the English weather – and the social scene that we knew well, or take a flyer and start anew. Beatrice is French and her ability to understand her mother tongue is without question. I, on the other hand, am quite inept at languages. I can make people think I understand even the Hebrew alphabet, mainly because I use facial expressions that imply I have understood, or have wind. "How are you today, my son?" asks Rabbi Yosef. "Gch hk org ya aya, Yawah" I reply. "I think he may have followed through," whispers the Rabbi to his friend. Languages and I – well, we just don't get on. The only foreign language that I can get by with is French – just, perhaps like many Brits. So, the purpose of this book is to help my fellow country folk who may be considering venturing across La Manche. Everything in this book is true – it actually happened; a little embellished perhaps but that just adds to the spice. Again, the book has been written in a way that I hope will answer those questions that niggled Beatrice and me and how we went about solving them. It may, I hope, help make that all-important decision – do you want to live in France?"