Gaulejac: What's a "préau"?

Travel back in time with me, please, to my childhood days.

When I was a little boy at École Voltaire, my elementary school in Asnières (the NW Paris suburb where I grew up), one of my favourite places there was the préau. Probably because it had nothing to do with teachers and classes, quite the contrary. It was part of the schoolyard where twice a day at recess time, we would escape from the classroom, scattering out, invariably shouting with relief at being finally free of the strict code of enforced silence, getting away once more from the torture of having to sit unnaturally still, quiet, and attentive (tough on any boy, in any country) for hours on end.

The préau was the covered area, at one end of the schoolyard, where we could shelter and still play and get some fresh air even if it rained or snowed, or pick a fight in a shady corner, somewhat removed from the supervising teacher's area of scrutiny. It was also where the latrines where located; like I said, it was all about relief.

Fast forward now more than fifty years into the present.

Though Nancy might beg to differ sometimes, I am not a little boy anymore. In fact I am an old man, a retiree, happy to be living back in France. And I have little need for school, because now I have my own préau (no latrines, though).

Childhood memories notwithstanding, the préau has to be one of the features of our house that we have been looking forward to the most, ever since the plans began to take form, three years ago. An outside,covered dining room, breakfast nook, lounging area - with a view.

I am sure that when you visit, once you've had the opportunity to sit there with us at the old oak table, over breakfast or, later in the day, with a glass of Bergerac before you, gazing out across at a 180 degree panorama of our valley, you will agree: the préau is the place to be.

It is conveniently located right by the kitchen door, and while I may not run out shouting, I enjoy even just walking by it sometimes, giving it only a side glance, with the knowledge that this is place that holds many special moments in store.

When we left for Ontario just before Christmas, the préau was still very much an unfinished place. For months it had stood an unfinished structure in an unfinished yard, covered like a makeshift camp with a tattered green tarp, that flapped in the wind and certainly did not do justice to its beautiful oak beams.

The day we returned, last week, as we were driving down our narrow, twisty country road that has become familiar, while neither one of us said anything, we both knew that the other one had his/her eyes trained on the final bend when Gaulejac would reveal itself to us. Would we see that ugly shapeless green still waving insultingly in the wind, or would the roofers have finally delivered?

In fact, there was not a trace of flapping green in site, but instead, a new roof of lovely old canal tiles. Our first Christmas at Gaulejac (in spirit, anyway) and we had received the one present we wished for.

And so now, in full colour, with the usual before-and-after shots, I give you ...

Le préau