Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Chapter 16
Vendanges Tranquilles
With
vendanges
around the corner, our Dutch friend Ad arrived, looking fit and younger
than ever. He had retired a week before and was now free to roam around France at leisure.
Perhaps it was retiring that had given him a flush of youth or perhaps it was returning to
the Dordogne where he had spent so many happy summers. Lijda couldn't come; maybe she
remembered the stress of our first year and wasn't coming back for another dose of hell.
Ad set up his campervan down in the amphitheatre. The trees were loaded with figs and
the limestone cliffs shone white in the summer sun. The girls zoomed down to mob him like
bees to a honeypot. Ad was becoming like a grandfather to them. A few hours later he set
off on his bike to visit some friends, flying along the district road like a comet.
The next day Sean's finger tingled ominously as if it remembered the harvest the previous
year. While he cleaned and sterilised equipment, Ad organised Sean's workshop. Each tool
soon had its home on the wall; after years of rummaging through piles on shelves it was a
revelation. He extended electricity cables and connected new lights for the new workbench.
When the workshop was organised, he made the half-plough that Sean wanted attached to
the oil reservoir on the tractor.
Each day Sean and I walked the vineyards and tasted the grapes. We were more confident
about making our decision on when to harvest. It was tranquil; there was no rain. Ad taught
Sean to weld and time slowed.
Then the sauvignon blanc grapes were ready; sweet and full of flavour, their pips brown
and nutty. I called to reserve the harvest machine and got my booking without having to ne-
gotiate. Sean did a final check of the equipment.
'I'm going to do a dry run,' he said. 'We're ready and we have two days to spare.'
I went inside. A half-hour later Sean crashed through the door, his steel-toe boots clomping
aggressively across the kitchen.
'Feck it,' he said, peering through the lounge door. 'The Kreyer's not working. You'd better
call Bonny's.'
