Crafty kid: You could trace the point when my life really got started to around my ninth birthday, after my uncle asked me to help him restore a house near the small village where we lived, southeast of Lyons, in France. It was built in 1840, with enough room to accommodate a horse and cart overnight, but when he began it had fallen into ruins and wasn’t much more than four rickety walls.

At first I was just fetching and carrying, but then I began to get really enthusiastic. My uncle was so…


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