A Vineyard in the Dordogne - How an English Family Made Their Dream of Wine, Good Food and Sunshine Come True

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Jeremy Josephs. A Vineyard in the Dordogne - How an English Family Made Their Dream of Wine, Good Food and Sunshine Come True

A VINEYARD IN THE DORDOGNE

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

PRELUDE

1 THINKING PINK

2 PUTTING PAPER-CLIPS FIRST

3 RED WINE IN HIS VEINS

4 AN ENGLISHMAN’S HOME

5 GOD SAVE JAUBERTIE!

6 MADAME BROUETTE

7 BONDHOLDERS IN THE BATH

8 MONSIEUR LE MAIRE

9 FATHER AND SON

10 IN SEARCH OF THAT SWEET TASTE

11 HEALTH AND WEALTH

12 ‘SEE THE MAN WHO HAS FAITH’

Copyright

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HOW AN ENGLISH FAMILY MADE THEIR DREAM OF WINE AND SUNSHINE COME TRUE

JEREMY JOSEPHS

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Thirteen years on it was Nick’s turn to serve King and Country. By then his C.V. could at least refer to some work experience – almost three years in the Ryman’s warehouse plus a short spell behind the counter in their Great Portland Street branch – but it still made far from impressive reading. Perhaps national service would give him a new sense of direction. In fact it took him off to Egypt. And before he could think too deeply about the wisdom of having opted for Africa, he found himself whisked far away from the Clipstone Street warehouse to the remote location of El Kirsh, situated in the canal zone between Port Said and Suez. Thriving on the discipline meted out by the army, he soon rose in rank from private to second lieutenant, with some thirty people under his command. He enjoyed himself enormously, responding well to the military’s brand of man management and insistence on punctuality – a training which would in due course serve him in good stead. In charge of a platoon of petrol tankers and with a staff car at his disposal, he would often venture away from his base camp and out into the desert on his own.

‘One day I drove off of the beaten track and sat myself down on a sand dune. And I thought to myself, right, Ryman, what are you going to do for the rest of your life? As I sat there it was like looking into infinity. I remembered the wonderful taste and smell of the only wine I ever tasted as a child, Château d’Yquem, which my mother had introduced me to, and considered to be the finest sweet white wine in the world. I thought too of my travels around France with my father. And I decided there and then, whilst sitting on my private sand dune, as I call it now, that I would like to buy a small vineyard and to live at least some of my life in France. It was just a private thought that flashed through my mind. But I do remember how very powerful it was.’

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