A New Hat for the Old Lady – La Tour Desnos Gets Some Dormers

Posted on 04/02/2026 by John Kocan

What do you do with a drunken sailor? I honestly don’t know. But I do know one thing you definitely don’t do with those filthy reprobates: home improvement. Especially roofing work. Leave that to the professionals. The sailors can carry on with singing sea shanties.

With this bit of wisdom in mind, we were finally able to launch a big project that we had been wanting to do ever since we bought La Tour Desnos – adding dormer windows to the tower roof. Our main bedroom is on the top floor of the tower, under the roof. Now, we have already done a lot of work up there: lowering the floor level, adding a bathroom/wardrobe suite, laying down new wood and stone flooring, and brushing on vast amounts of new paint. But the space still felt a bit closed off, isolated, due mainly to the lack of windows. Two small velux windows (Americans would call them skylights) were the only sources of light and air. Placed as they were in the sloping roof, they could only be opened in the absence of rain. Their elevated position also prevented us from taking advantage of the beautiful views over the park below. By adding dormer windows to the roof, we could bring in more light, more air, and give ourselves yet another panoramic view of our surroundings.

Good plan, eh? We thought so. But this is France, where bureaucracy is king. Although, we don’t mention the “king” bit. [They’re still a little touchy about monarchy since the Revolution in 1789.] But it’s true. The administration of all things reigns supreme here. And, to be fair, that’s often a good thing. Things run pretty smoothly in France. The government can be counted on and, in turn, be accountable. Corruption is very low. However, the tangle of administration can be intensely ponderous and arcane.

We first broached the subject of adding lucarnes (dormer windows) to the authorities not long after we bought the property. La Tour Desnos is listed as a monument historique so, not only do we have to obtain approval from our local mairie, we also have to run it by ABF (Les Architectes des Bâtiments de France), the government body which oversees all historical monuments in the country. In our town, we have generally found the mairie to be accommodating with our requests. But ABF can be a bit more challenging.

On our first encounter with ABF, I had proposed an ambitious program of stone-fronted lucarnes with gothic peaks. The representative just tutted, shook her head and growled “non!”. I was a bit taken aback. But, in hindsight, I have to admit that it was the right call. My ambitious design was not appropriate for the history, form and function of the building. Besides, it’s unlikely we could have afforded the cost. Still, it felt to me like a setback. We put the whole idea aside for the time being and got on with more pressing work on the tower.

A year or so later we hosted yet another visit from ABF. This time we politely suggested adding more simple dormers to the roof. The ABF architect firmly responded with an all-too-common phrase that we have come to both love and fear since moving here: “C’est pas possible.” – It’s not possible. With an air of righteous authority, to which she added just a dash of courteous but unmistakable disdain, she informed us that no dormers of any kind would be permissible for our home. Hmnnn … that felt pretty final to us. My recollection is that we drowned our disappointment in copious amounts of tea and scones that evening. With butter and strawberry jam. [Hardcore, eh? Well, that’s how we roll. Get used to it.]

The final round in our battle royale for dormer freedom came two years ago. We thought that we would try for lucarnes one more time. This time, the architect was a different person. The previous official had moved on to terrorize a different region of the country. So, while seeking approval for some new doors and other bits and bobs, Cherie nonchalantly happened to mention that “Wouldn’t it be nice if there were different windows upstairs in the master suite? Maybe two more velux windows?” The young man looked at us in surprise, wondering aloud why we would want velux windows when lucarnes would be much more appropriate and aesthetically pleasing … Wait. What? Barely concealing our shock, we hastily agreed. At our kitchen table he proceeded to dash off a quick sketch with notes for dimensions and materials, allowing for four dormer windows. Voila! Just like that we had our approval. Phew!

Encased in Steel – The Scaffolding Goes Up

We have never tried to analyze the turnaround in ABF’s opinion about the dormers. It’s not worth the brain damage that might result from attempting to rationalize the irrational. Instead, we immediately set to obtaining construction bids. We found a great local company which presented a reasonable price for the work. Unfortunately, the schedule slipped a couple of times; it was several months before our builders were finally able to begin work in June of last year.

Reflecting on My Life Choices as I Face Ginormous Holes in Our Roof

Despite the inconvenience of having a recently-renovated room once again thrown into the chaos of construction, it was exciting to watch the scaffolding encircle the tower and the artisans begin to work on the first of four lucarnes. The first part is pretty brutal. The slate shingles come off and the saws come out, cutting giant holes in the roof structure. The bedroom we had worked so hard to transform was once again a messy, dirty work site. Kind of heartbreaking. But all for a good cause. At least we were hoping so. Soon, though, the framing for the dormer began to take shape and we could begin to see the form of our new windows.

An *épi de faîtage* Puts a Finishing Touch on the *Lucarne*

This project demanded but a small team, the core of which consisted of two men for the daily work, occasionally supplemented by an additional three or four helpers for transporting materials or for managing the scaffolding. They built each lucarne one at a time, completing each one entirely before moving on to the next. The primary framing of solid french oak is satisfyingly thick and solid, pegged together in the traditional manner. Slate tiles clad the roofs and sides, the latter cleverly swooping in a gentle curve to create the gullies in such a way as to harmonious blend the dormers into the roofline as though they had spontaneously grown there. We chose to top the peaks of each lucarne with a traditional terra cotta épi de faîtage (finial) for just a little understated flair; we were a bit nervous about the choice, but we are very happy with the results. The final step was the window installation which, after nearly four months of work on the dormers, felt like an instant – all four windows were in place in the space of a single morning.

From Rough to Refined -Our Bedroom is Now Better Than Ever

The scaffolding came down, the artisans took their leave and we finally had four brand new dormer windows in our master bedroom. Oh, we also had a pile of debris and several large gaping holes in the ceiling and wall plaster. Hélas! But this was no surprise; we knew it would be this way. So we had already arranged for our regular English building contractors to come and restore the interior for us. Kelson and Stuart not only do fine work, but they and their families have also become good friends. With their habitual efficiency and good humor they soon had our wreck of a room looking whole again.

With a lot cleaning, a bit of touch-up painting and the reintroduction of furniture and decorations, our upstairs bedroom is now looking better than ever. The 180 degree views over the park and surrounding town are very pleasant. The cross-ventilation we now have in the room will be especially welcome in the summertime. And we can even have the windows open when it’s lightly raining if we want to. We are very pleased with the way the project turned out and we feel a little bit proud at how our persistence ultimately overcame the mighty bureaucratic steeplechase that had challenged us, at times almost to despair. In short, it’s made us feel, in some small way, French. And we think that’s a good thing.

Pretty Little Parné

Posted on 14/03/2025 by John Kocan

Cherie and I have been in a bit of a self-imposed lockdown. Not due to illness or lack of interest. We’ve just been busy with the many little things in life which can bog you down if you are not careful. Bills, banking, tax preparation (for two separate countries), a thousand little house projects, managing the holiday rental … how do people accomplish all of these things when they have jobs and kids?

The tasks just keep coming. But sometimes you just have to throw down the tools and have some fun. So we bravely ran away and took an afternoon off to visit a nice village about an hour’s drive southeast of us: Parné-sur-Roc.

Driving south, a few kilometers past the city of Laval, a country road takes you to Parné. We were lucky, in early March, to have sunny weather so we parked the car and took a long stroll through the village streets. Much of Parné stands upon a slope which rises from the Val d’Ouette where the small river slowly winds its way westward between verdant hills.

*Les Fours à Chaux* – The 19th Century Lime Kilns

Parné’s a small place, home to around 1,300 inhabitants. But it has been around for several centuries. Probably since at least the time when the area was a province of the Roman Empire. They must be doing something right. During the Middle Ages the village found itself on the main pilgrimage route leading from Tours to Mont-Saint-Michel. In the 19th century, entrepreneurs of the area took advantage of local limestone deposits by building a series of successful lime kilns, the remains of which continue to rise above a row of workers’ cottages built to house their employees. Now, the main occupations are in agriculture, manufacture of aluminum and PVC building construction components, and a trout hatchery.

John Enjoying a Moment of Reflection on the Medieval Bridge

At the point where the old pilgrims’ way crossed the river spans a medieval bridge. Simple, with two arches (a third was added in the last century to facilitate water flow), this ancient bridge has somehow managed to last for centuries. It has seen countless travelers tread its roadway – ranging from the most humble animals to the very kings and queens of France itself. It’s a beautiful thing, with its quiet, timeless solidity and imbued with such deep history. Spending a few quiet moments here, with the sound of the burbling river and the songbirds chirping in the trees will do you much good.

A Small Part of Église St. Pierre Without Scaffolding

Strolling up the hillside to the center of the village, we came upon a lovely church. Or, at least that’s how it seems in photos I’ve seen. We were disappointed to discover that Église St. Pierre is currently enshrouded in scaffolding. Head to toe. Front to back. Restoration is a constant fact of life in Europe. Which is, of course, a good thing. But it was a shame on this day. Because this 11th century church is also reputed to have 13th, 16th and 17th century fragments of frescoes remaining on the walls. We would have loved to see them, but the inside of the church was closed off as well. Perhaps another time.

A Few of the Village Darlings (click on each photo to enlarge)

There are several lovely houses ranging around the core of the village. There are some nice examples of medieval domestic architecture (my favorite) as well as from later periods. All of them blend together in a very pleasing way. Many have plaques which present a brief history of the building. We found them to be informative and interesting and they helped us better understand the area’s past. I wish our own town would do something similar.

We enjoyed our visit to Parné-sur-Roc. Because it’s a small place, it is probably best to include it as part of a day-trip to nearby Laval and Entrammes. The three together make for a full and well-rounded day of sightseeing. You won’t find any food or window shopping in Parné (or Entramme, for that matter), but Laval will serve you well in those respects. This small village is definitely worth a look.

Admiring the Streets of Moncontour

Posted on 14/06/2024 by John Kocan

It was the middle of the week. We had finished yet another changeover for our holiday rental the previous day. Feeling a little tired, we decided that a quick exploration would be just the ticket to revive our spirits. The other day I had seen a short video online about a town which looked kind of interesting. Winding streets. Centuries-old architecture. A history reaching back for centuries. Definitely our kind of place. The ville of Moncontour has attained the coveted designations of being a Petite Cité de Caractère, as well as one of Les Plus Beaux Villages de France. Not bad, we thought.

It seems that there was a settlement at Moncontour as early as the 7th century. The later medieval town developed on top of a narrow, rocky escarpment situated at the confluence of two small rivers. Its purpose was to guard the western approaches to Lamballe, then the capital of the area known as Penthièvre. The ville was encircled with strong stone ramparts and round towers, clinging to the steep slopes that tumble down to the waters below.

L’Hôtel Kerjégu (now the Mairie) – a 17th c. Testament to Moncontour’s Past Grandeur

Although the town expanded through the centuries, it appears to have changed little since the 17th and 18th centuries. In the past, it thrived on the weaving of linen and hemp cloth, exporting these goods through the ports of St. Malo and Lorient to Spain and the Indies. By the 1790’s, the town boasted more than 2,000 inhabitants. But a slow decline over the ensuing two centuries reduced the population significantly. By 2021, only 745 people made Moncontour their home.

From Fougères, we drove an hour-and-a-half westward to Moncontour. It sits about 24 kilometers south of Saint-Brieuc in pretty countryside, surrounded by rocky hills and steep-sided vales. One enters by climbing up the ramp-like approach that mounts the side of the escarpment. Once on top, you are surrounded by lovely old buildings. Once regal and proud to display their proprietor’s success, many of the ancient homes now bear a patina of diminished fortune and a want of population to support them. For the visitor, it presents a charming age and is pleasantly evocative of the past centuries. However, I am not so sure it is as reassuring to those who live there.

Moncontour is not a town for shopping. There are precious few shops, though we did pass by a fine-looking bookshop. If you are looking for something sweet to take home (or eat in the street if you can’t wait), then the patisserie on Rue Notre Dame is quite good. We bought a rather delectable slice of chocolate torte there and, quite proud of our restraint, managed to wait until we got home to eat it.

Beauty is All Around You in Moncontour (click each photo to enlarge)

The real show in this lovely little town is the ambiance. We simply let ourselves wander down the quiet lanes, admiring the many stone and half-timbered buildings which line them. A good number of the homes and shops are well-kept, lovingly maintained and restored. But many others, sadly, stand empty, a bit worn down and sagging as the accumulating years threaten to melt them away. Fine examples ranging from the 14th through the 18th century await any lucky wanderer who cares to appreciate the art and skill of those past artisans.

Saint Mathurin’s Church (click each photo to enlarge)

Possibly the star of the panoply is the church. L’Église St. Mathurin proudly anchors the center of town, a broad square affords a pleasing view of the church’s west front and its bell tower projecting skyward. The building’s constituent parts cover the early 16th to 18th centuries and somehow with age have combined into a harmonious assemblage. We were dazzled by the several 16th century stained glass windows still intact and seemingly as fresh as the day they were made.

By the time we arrived in Moncontour, we were feeling quite hungry. And, thankfully, it was right at the beginning of the sacred two-hour lunchtime which our fellow French citizens observe with meticulous regularity. In fact, lunchtime might just possibly be the only event about which they are so precise. Excepting, perhaps, the Tour de France.

Really Good Burgers from the Wizard of *Les Remparts*

Not intending to miss out, the two of us cast our keen eyes about the town, searching for our next meal. As you might imagine might be the case in such a small town, the choice was limited. Luckily for us, Cherie thought we should try a little place just up the street on Rue de l’Union: les Remparts. Unassuming in the extreme, the place was almost entirely full. We were shown to one of the last open tables by what turned out to be the sole owner/chef/bartender/server/and dishwasher. This man did it all, and he was nothing short of a phenomenon. We counted 7 tables and 18 diners, six of whom were a group of hungry construction workers. Despite a surprisingly extensive menu plus daily specials, he took orders, poured drinks, cooked, served meals and took payment – all in the time you would expect of at least three or four normal human beings working flat out. Moreover, the food was quite good and well-presented. Needless to say we were well impressed. It was a performance worthy of a Nobel Prize. Do give this restaurant a try if you visit.

We had a fine time in Moncontour. Relaxed, eminently picturesque, it’s one of those many places in France where you feel really fortunate to be a traveler. We’re glad we came and thankful that towns like this exist.

Finding Our France

A New Life in the Old World

Tag Archives: French Life

A New Hat for the Old Lady – La Tour Desnos Gets Some Dormers

Pretty Little Parné

Admiring the Streets of Moncontour