I'm not the kind of person that likes change. In fact I hate it, which is a problem for me when I decide that I need a break from my job and the city and take a last minute flight to some sunny climb. I entertain the idea that I'll be able to relax by the pool, soaking up the sun and letting my cares drift away.

Its not like that at all, though. In most hotels there are interfering chambermaids, hotel managers, waiters, and – worst of all – other tourists to irritate you. And where are all my creature comforts? I want my own dressing gown in the morning and a nice cup of Yorkshire tea made in my special way, or I just can't start the day.

So I decided that there's was really only one thing for it: My own home from home in the sun – some holiday villa in paradise where everything would be exactly as I wanted it, and I could relax like I was back in England, only the sun would be shining and my lie-ins could be as long as I wanted.

So it was with these thoughts in mind that I bought a rickety-looking stone-walled old barn nestling in a French vineyard, just south of the Loire valley. It's perfect. There's an old rusting tractor covered in weeds parked outside, which was here when I arrived, and, since no one has yet turned up to claim it, I'll probably just leave it there as a monument to my idleness.

There's a fairly stereotypical old French man next door as well. Every now and then, when he's had enough of his wife, he seems to decide to wander over and sit on the bench outside the front door dispensing wine-making advice and forcing me to speak pigeon French so that he can crack up at my accent.

Most nights when I'm there, I can just head down to the local restaurant in the town, where Franco – an Italian chef with a passionate hatred for French cuisine – will cook me up some seafood risotto or something similar, plying me with more wine.

The closest I ever get to exercise is a gentle bike ride to the bread shop where I can feel properly French and buy a baguette.

I accept that in this particular part of the world, there really isn't much in the way of cosmopolitan excitement, and there is very little in the way of organised entertainment, but if you want that, you can go to London or Paris. For a quiet life in the country for a couple of weeks, there really is no better place than rural France.