I’ll be the first to admit that I have absolutely no idea how the grown up world is supposed to work.

My first job was freelancing and I’m still doing that now. I don’t know about networking or taking headshots; I honestly just learned this year how the tax process works in full.

I don’t know. Climbing the corporate ladder? I don’t know.

But here’s something I can get around. My housemates and I are going to live in a chateau – probably within the next five years.

Chateau life

What I picture is a green paintbrush stroke pulled across an open canvas. That’s the rolling hill.

On top of the hill is the mess of a centuries-old chateau. Wealthy people built and lived in these mansion-castle hybrids, but it’s clear from each crumbling brick that their lives are long past.

That’s where we’ll start.

I imagine life to move a lot slower here. What’s there to do but watch the sky? Dig around in the garden? Walk through the trees? Find a few lost attics and cellars?

It’s slow, and each day feels like one small piece of a grander daydream. I doubt the weather is ever unpleasant.

And then we move in

Keep in mind that I’m not actually joking about this. There’s just no convincing way to tell someone you’re going to extract yourself from society.

When we move in – I say ‘we’ in reference to my housemates and whoever else we drag along – I don’t think the halls will be serene.

I picture a few nights of chaos. Are we actually here? Does the plumbing work? Is there a right way to use a hammer?

Then, months of living out our DIY dreams. Fresh paint. Thrifted interiors. Plants absolutely everywhere on any available surface.

Then we’ll sit down to eat at our larger-than-life dining table and feel completely besotted that we’re alive.

Practicalities

Here are the logistics.

In France and Italy right now there are hundreds of dilapidated chateaus. Once worth at least a squillion, guess how much they go for?

I don’t know the average – but I saw one for 250K euros. Split between six or seven of us, it’s not an unrealistic loan. (Again – not sure how this all works).

Monetisation; we’ve thought of that too. How would you like to spend an evening in the sunrise-facing suite by the west wing?

Our Airbnb offerings are going to fly off the shelf. We’ll have it as a wedding destination, too. An anything destination.

When I imagine my earthly bliss, the picture I see is always filled with cows. And so – in my personal version of events – we use part of the rolling pastures to run a rescue farm animal sanctuary.

It’s not impractical. I can imagine this all unfolding quite smoothly.

Why dreams remain dreams

Like a depressed peach, there’s a pit somewhere inside me that is convinced I’ll never set foot in a chateau. At least, not one that I own.

But this is why our dreams remain dreams.

Over every single one of our heads hangs a limit. I suppose it’s like a light-blocking umbrella. You could technically knock it out of the way – but you’re unaware that there’s a different reality beyond it. So you don’t.

Yet every time we discuss this chateau concept, I feel the folds of the umbrella drooping slightly. The metal frame is collapsing.

At the edges of the fabric, I see a hint of light from whatever’s above it. I understand that the limit is only there because I allow it to stay over my head.

Do you get what I’m trying to say? Nether do I. But I think we’re going to live in that chateau.