The first weekend down there in the Pays Basque was bleddy marvelous . The sun shone, the air fresh blown down from the snow capped mountain peaks was clean and crisp. The trees were all starting to come into leaf and in the orchard cherry, apple, peach and pear blossom was coming into bloom. Jays, cuckoos, woodpeckers, doves screeched and squawked and cuckooed. In the undergrowth toads croaked and lizards basked on warm rocks. Ashford Strand seemed a long way aways. My lodgings, the caravan was very comfortable, nice dry and cosy the only thing was which I didn't realise when I first stumbled in there on the first night was that I had to share it with one of the cats and her litter of kittens. I woke up the next morning by the little buggers climbing all over me, licking my ears, scratching their noses on me beard and making hang of a racket scrapping with each other. Still it was very entertaining. After the second morning of this I did have a word with Jean Michel via Piers and he gave me a rather menacing looking cage so I could shut them up at night and stick a blanket over it. When I heard their pathetic mewling from underneath I did feel a bit bad but they soon shut up.
Old Piers was very quiet for the first few days he largely spent his time up in the spare room writing the script which sounded all a bit ominous. He'd make an appearance for aperitifs but then he'd be constantly looking at his Iphone thingymejig which was a bit odd since there was no mobile reception, and no internet lost he was without it. So much so that he'd march off from time to time and walk up the top of the fields to the road where he could get some sort of signal.
I was happy enough to be left to me own devices. I spent the best part of the day sitting in a deckchair looking out over the mountains which looked like a range Codden Hills and peering up at the big sky. Spectacular. Old Jean Michel made no concessions to visitors and cracked on with his work I'd go along and help him lift a few things and just have a look around. I did offer to do a bit more work but they were having none of it, Claudette would physically drag me away from the sheep and sit me down on the veranda and plonk down a bottle of Jean Michel's vintage in front of me. As the days went by I started to get a bit suspicious about this and I don't think the nature of the programme 'Farm Swap' had been adequately explained to them! They didn't seem too keen on a Devonian bloke poking his nose into French agricultural practises
Still I wasn't complaining Jean Michel took me out round his land one evening with the dogs and, " I feel we bonded," as Piers might say. We were happy just walking across the fields, throwing sticks to the dogs and prodding things with our sticks. The universal countryman's language.
Towards the middle of the first week Piers came marching down the field from the road and announced that the script was finished, locations had been sourced arrangements had been made and shooting would commence forthwith
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