So, Sandy and Zandra live in the most amazing place. It is a dead-old château in a mountain valley that is essentially the same as it was let’s say 300 years ago.
You gaze from the courtyard out over a landscape devoid of advertising panels, pylons, freeways, surface to air missile pits and the usual visual paraphernalia of modern life. It is also very quiet as traffic is almost unknown in le Valromey.
We eat and drink with determination.
We spend the rest of the time clearing the woodlands that surround the château.
I have always loved clearing woodland. You are outside in the brisk November air and essentially being very destructive with a chain saw and a bonfire. Yet you are clearing the forest, making it look nice and tidy whilst harvesting loads of firewood.
You sweat and grunt and get hot from the fire and do a lot of exercise so that you are stiff and creaky as you open another bottle in the evening.
This is not Okinawa just in case some readers are confused.
Inside, the rooms are big, full of wonderful curios and antiques. Wood burning stoves heat the place to coziness and if want more wood you just go out to the forest and cut down a couple of trees.
Check Zandra’s site.
I want to retire here with Sandy and Zandra. I could be a manservant who cleans the forest rather than the silver. Thanks McGillivrays. I finish lunch and go to Okinawa.
I am writing this on the plane from Munich to Tokyo. Across the aisle there is an old grey haired couple who look frightened. We are at the back of the aeroplane in Class Z. Occasionally a slick young man comes up from Business class to speak to them. How could you sit in business whilst your Granny is in coach?
A classic of Scottish song.