Castles (not) in the Air

Lockdown over the holidays has given me the time for an immersive trip to France, and it’s been glorious. The countryside is beautiful, the chateaux gorgeous. I highly recommend it as a cultured escape from the mundanity of COVID and the Canadian cold. 

I stumbled across the opportunity while searching for something to replace the delightful distraction that has been The Great British Bake-off. I was sad when I came to the end of all 10 seasons of that tv series, and I was yearning for something equally gentle and nice: No murder or mayhem, no mind-numbing angst. Just nice people transforming a few ingredients into something delicious. 

I found my replacement in Escape to the Chateau: DIY edition. I fell down the metaphorical rabbit hole through its Christmas special and then sprawled headlong into the adventures of an astonishingly large number of ex-pat Brits spending enormous amounts of money on a wide variety of very big French country homes. Well, castles, really. By any standard, a structure with towers and turrets and several dozen bedrooms, and sometimes a moat, qualifies as a castle. Even if it doesn’t have a functional bathroom or kitchen…yet.

Exactly why it is so fascinating to watch Dick and Angel Strawbridge and their fellow Brits take on the gargantuan task of renovating their castles into high-end Bed ’n Breakfasts, wedding venues and artist retreats is not entirely clear to me. It might be morbid curiosity: Will they really be able to fix the leaking 15th-century tile roof, five storeys up? It might be pure delight: How wonderful that they’ve turned that musty outbuilding into an airy cocktail space! Or maybe it’s simple relief: No project in my life involves ancient plaster, leaky windows in stone walls, and archaic electrical systems. 

But actually, I think the fascination and satisfaction come from watching unfold the very hard work of individuals committed to projects so much bigger than themselves. The new chateau owners speak in almost reverential tones of the responsibility they have to steward the castle and its land for future generations. In many cases, the property has stood empty and idle for years, and the Brits are pouring their heart and soul, their blood, sweat and occasional tears, and always their money into restoring it to an approximation of its original beauty and function.  

And therein, I believe, lies the kernel of similarity with the Bake-off appeal. In that series, the tent brought people together to bake delicious things for others to enjoy; no matter how the judges responded, the bakers’ intent was to put love into the mix for those whom they were feeding. In Escape to the Chateau, their castles give the new owners a vehicle through which to show their love and appreciation of history, beauty and function — and to serve it all up to their guests with good food and wine from the local region. Both undertakings are satisfying when successful and demoralizing when not. But they are always creative. 

As we approach the new year and continued lockdown until who-knows-when, it is the creative urge that is keeping me going. I am buoyed equally by tales of new chateau owners as I am by star bakers and, while I see myself never being either — ever, I shall allow myself the pleasure of being inspired by both. 

Chateau de la Motte-Husson in NW France, where the Strawbridge family lives and works