French Deal

Buying a house in France can lead to trouble when it's winter and the fog is thicker than the smoke filled air of a political meeting in St Petersburg. I thought I was buying a house. But Loic, gay shepherd turned estate agent, via shepherding in Australia, Ireland and Scotland, a man of great gentility and sense of irony quietly seduced me into an immediate purchase.

The fog lifted a few days later, promis d'achat signed, and it revealed a house, a cow shed, a pig shed, two barns, one outhouse, 9 maize containers, a granary and two fields, oh, and a bit of a river bank - in total 8000 sq metres. And, bless him, such a bargain.

Still, it's a challenge.

What do I bring to the occasion? I speak French - that's a definite plus. I've lived in big cities all my life - Hong Kong, Rio, London, Brussels, Houston. I've never done any gardening. I've only once put up a shelf with an electric drill - just to prove a girl can (it was in the 1980s).

So, just christened OAP - this is my new life. This is all about learning to be a french farm owner and I'm off to a cracking start. I already have cows - three fibre glass ones from a recent Cow Parade. That's shown Monsieur Cazemajour who owns 28 beautiful Aquitaine Blonds which now live on my of my fields - still keeps the grass down and the flies up.

And honest - it's in Oraas, next to Caresse..... now that's gay shepherd irony....

posted by French Deal @ 1:27 pm