I love my little hamlet. I love the companionable warmth of the inhabitants … occupying just five houses and a farm … and in the five years or more my wife Christine & I have lived here I love walking amongst its history.

Earliest records show that Moustiers, which means ‘small monastery’, was founded at the very beginning of Christianity during the Gallo- Roman period. Adjacent to, and within 30 metres of, our house stands the original pagan Gallo-Roman granite altar of Moustiers with its hand carved figures on all sides depicting families and even a man with a dog. Atop the altar is an iron Christian cross that was subsequently set in, somewhat like Excallibur, at a later date to Christianise the altar.

The altar stone stands like a sentinel at the entrance to what originally was the cemetery to the Church of Moustiers dating from 785 AD but with the Church now gone the land has become the Communal allotment where we all grow potatoes and the like … which inevitably invites a degree of ‘black humour!’. In fact when preparing the ground prior to sowing one frequently comes across early coins and rings, etc, that are turned up by the plough… as well as the occasional human bone!

The Monastery was built by Cistercian Monks in the 11th Century and expanded in the 13th Century as the farm buildings were further developed. Streams flowing through the area were dammed or redirected to create the lake ½ kilometre up the lane that the Monks stocked with carp. So with cattle, crops & fish,
plus fresh water, the Monks where totally selfsufficient. The farm buildings are currently being renovated but one can still walk into the original bake-house and see the huge bread oven.

As one enters the farm complex you walk over the original large cobble stones, rounded by age, laid by the Monks some 900 years ago … now that’s truly touching history… and for the benefit of our American visitors, a long, long time before Buffalo Bill was chasing the Indians!

Wandering around Moustiers one can see evidence of our early predecessors in the number of original stone artifacts dating from the inception of the hamlet. It is said by locals, with apparent honest conviction, that late at night in the lanes of Moustiers one may encounter Monks attired in their white robes … now I don’t know about that, I’ve yet to have that experience… but I must confess to having experienced two extremely spooky, and yet to be rationally explained, events in our house … but that’s a tale for another occasion!