Clearly, nobody is home
My best friend pointed out early on that I was "one of those people who liked to stick my nose up against windows of abandoned buildings."
I plead guilty. Nothing architectural gets my juices flowing like a good abandoned building, whether it be in the countryside or in the city; in the US or in France.
A few curtains are still up, which adds to the sense of mystery
Most every village church I have seen in France has a presbytère nearby.
Sometimes it is totally separate from the church, walled off with a lovely yard, as is the case in my own village, Gages.
Other times, it is across the street, or even a little ways down the road.
Unfortunately for its real estate future, Bertholène's is joined to the church at the hip by a short stone wall.
With plunging mass attendance and a shortage of priests, few, if any, village presbyteries in my area are inhabited by anyone connected to the church. But many are sold as private homes, and they do make lovely ones.
Who was the last person to knock on this door?