An email arrived the other day from a woman worried about the actions of a soon-to-be retired colleague.

This colleague had decided to just kick off, move to France and start a whole new life.

She didn't speak French, didn't particularly know France, had practically stuck a pin in the map to decide on an area; had sold her house and was ready to roll within a week of retirement.

High as a kite at what she was about to do, she dismissed all queries from her friends as to the practicalities of such a relocation and got quite testy when all the potential horrors of such were pointed out.

Apparently, it had been suggested she read all my old columns and my book, then ponder the true meaning of life in La France Profonde ; or rather, life alone in La France Profonde. Dear God, poor woman. The genuinely concerned friend asked what I thought and whether I had any advice.

I've received many similar emails involving all sorts of life-changing moves, not simply to France. All are based on a strange perception that I did something extraordinarily brave in coming here, and that I have a blueprint for women of a certain age going it alone and have some sort of wisdom to impart.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines "brave" as "ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage". It is such an appallingly misused word in our society. Brave should be saved for the battlefield, or in a broader sense for those who fight totalitarian regimes; those who live with horrific injuries or disabilities and face every day with hope; those whose pain is contained behind a smile as they care for others day after long day; those who are prepared to endure any humiliation or rejection in defiance of something they know is wrong.

I am not, and never have been, ready to face and endure danger or pain, or shown courage. Far, far from it – I'd run a marathon rather than do so.

Brave does not describe what I did or am doing. You could call it reckless or foolhardy and probably stupid, but definitely not brave.

(Always remember that I had enough redundancy money, cashed-in pensions and the proceeds from selling my flat to buy a house for starters, even if I spent it all in the first six months and now live on the old knife edge.)

However, from my elevated position at the kitchen table (elevated by virtue of the sloping floor), staring out, as ever, at a field in the middle of nowhere, I do feel supremely confident in giving advice.

These are, then, my top tips, in no particular order, for women of a certain age coming here alone. I apologise for the inclusive nature of this week's column; that's just the way it is.

1) If you're that bored - Well, why bloody not? What else is there? Go for it.

2) Got cash in your pocket? Rent first. In winter. You will not be able to work here, so have no thoughts of doing so.

3) Looking for a man in La France Profonde? Sorry, I'm still laughing.

4) Don't speak French? That's OK – British people who've been here for 20 years don't. I hope you like the British.

5) Don't cook? You're buggered. Life here is all about meals.

6) Don't cook? Great. Aperos with bits are more than acceptable, if they're high quality. Plus the restaurants are good if you can afford them.

7) Make friends with a couple whose husband is into DIY. He will help if you look pathetic.

8) Don't buy boxed wine. It's impossible to work out what you've drunk in an evening, though that's OK on occasions.

9) Don't buy a farmhouse if you've come from a city. Unless you like grass and silence in some fantasy of French life.

10) Bring a dog. Rescue one. He/she will end up being your only best friend.

11) Get used to having long talks with yourself, in your head.

12) Ideally, try to be a gardener, a painter or a member of the local international women's club who does lunches, teas and all sorts of other stuff to pass the time.

13) Trot off three times a week to the market and buy fish, vegetables and flowers for one.

14) SCREAM if you end up doing the last two. Oh, sorry, didn't mean that -

15) Be happy you are in the French health system. It's better than the NHS.

16) Have an arrangement with neighbours where if your shutters aren't open after 1pm you're probably dead. They will then come in before the dog eats you.

17) Remember the French will take your organs automatically unless you object in writing.

18) Remember they won't take your blood because you lived in the UK during the mad cow crisis.

19) Above all, if you want to do it, do it.

20) Nothing is perfect in life.

cookfidelma@hotmail.com