In 2015, an English couple decided to move to France. It is, somehow, a quintessentially English dream: to leave rainy old Blighty, to swap brollies, traffic jams and Marks & Sparks lunchtime sandwiches for verdant landscapes of grapevines where villages smell of the day’s baguettes being baked at the local boulangerie.
Angel Adoree and Dick Strawbridge thought they might buy a charming old farmhouse in a charming French village where the locals might accept a couple who are immediately identifiable as just a tad eccentric. There is her name, for one thing. Her name is Angela. When she moved to London in her early twenties, she set up a vintage emporium called Angel. People started calling her Angel and, as she says, “They could never be cross with me. I quite liked it.” As for Adoree, well, why
