03/06/2026
The Life of an Artisan in France
I came to France with tools and dreams,
and plans far larger than they seemed.
A van, some sanders, dust extraction too,
and stubborn faith to see me through.
I did not come to chase quick pay,
Or sand old floors the careless way.
I came to learn what timber knew,
and give old homes their pride back too.
I’ve worked in cottages, farms and halls,
& ancient châteaux with towering walls.
I’ve climbed staircases worn by time,
& brought old parquet back to life.
The floors may creak, the beams may bend,
But every project speaks in the end.
A century here, two centuries there,
History hidden beneath each repair.
I’ve seen poor work and shortcuts made,
Old floors damaged, trust betrayed.
So I built my name with slower hands,
With dust control, detail, and proper plans.
The clients ask me with a smile,
“Can it be done?” after a while.
I answer, “Yes, with skill and care,”
Though France has surprises waiting there.
A socket from 1952,
A staircase held by hope and glue.
A château floor with gaps so wide,
A small mouse could happily reside.
The paperwork grows like weeds in spring,
Each year a new form seems to bring.
A declaration here, a document there,
Enough paperwork to restore its own chair.
Then URSSAF arrives without fail,
Following every invoice trail.
They never sand a floor all day,
Yet somehow know exactly what I should pay.
The accountant speaks a language rare,
Of percentages floating through the air.
I nod politely and do my best,
Then return to wood, which makes more sense.
But still, beneath the dust and strain,
The timber starts to breathe again.
A floor once hidden, stained and worn,
Is given back its second dawn.
A staircase marked by generations past,
Is strengthened, shaped, and built to last.
& in the grain, beneath the light,
You see the reason you worked all night.
For craft is more than making sales,
More than quotes, receipts, and emails.
It’s standing firm when standards fall,
& leaving honest work in every hall.
When a client stops to say,
“I never thought it could look this way,”
The paperwork suddenly matters less,
And all the hard work feels like success.
So here’s to artisans across France,
Who give old buildings a second chance.
May the floors stay flat, the varnish dry,
May clients bring coffee when they stop by.
Brad Q
