Friday 30 July 2004, 3.30 p.m.

“You know I could so live there”, I nonchalantly uttered tossing the magazine onto the bed….. never realizing that many a true word was spoken in jest. We were in fact paging through the glossy pictures looking for new ideas for the upgrading of our bathroom en suite. Little did I realize that the bathroom was about to become an enormous tract of land some 2 hours from our uterus of confinement in suburbia known always as ‘home’……
I was recuperating after a gynaecological procedure which had recently been concluded and my darling husband was miraculously pulling through from a bout of influenza. I had just come off duty from doing the “Florence Nightingale” run ensuring that my darling husband had his measured amounts of ‘mootie’, tender loving care, and not to mention the company he so enjoyed having in the bedroom, when feeling as lousy as he was, filled the long boring hours! Vince picked up the magazine and paged through trying not to show too much interest. After not finding the

Pointing out the page, which was an outstanding full page advertisement, with superb photographs, and of course the information was certainly eye catching to say the least. Realizing this was a good time to take a much needed break from the confines of our bedroom, I quietly slipped out muttering something about having various things to attend to, and would return shortly. Not actually thinking any further on the subject, I slid down the passage gleefully patted myself on my back with the thought that he would be kept occupied for at least 10 minutes, by which time, I could make a run for the back door and sneak off to have a little peace and quiet on my own. After a good hour I heard the little voice coming from our bedroom, calling me, but rather enthusiastically this time. I actually cheered myself up thinking, wow, a miracle recuperative moment, 1 hour and he is almost back to normal. My delight was short lived, a enormous shout, a blast of saliva sprayed across the bedding and the sound of him emptying his nasal passages confirmed my hopes had been dashed. After a massive sigh of irritation his proboscis swollen and throbbing from the pressure I heard Vince utter something sounding like ‘given this some serious thought after your comment’…

And so the story of immense change begins.

It had been a very stressful time the last 6 months, our eldest daughter was having serious marital problems, we had sadly said a final goodbye to two elderly family members in a short space of time, and unbeknown to us our new life was about to take shape. How life turns you upside down, after death comes life!
I once again reposed myself in the now well warmed bedroom chair, I had being keeping a vigil now for 3 days ensuring my patient had his every need attended to, and bobbed my head up and down, inviting Vince to explain what his thoughts had been. Smiling now, he suggested that he had given this a bit of thought considering he had so much time on his hands…. idle minds too I reflected…and came up with what he thought might be a possibility.
“Ok, so as you know we have often discussed the opportunity of owning a farm, and this certainly sounds very much like what we would want”, he said matter of factly. “It is not too far from Cape Town, farms olive trees, and looks absolutely superb. Also attached to the farm is an olive tasting facility, and of course a restaurant, and then a couple of cottages, which as you know you would love to run as a guest house”. “So for both of us sounds like a good option, what do you think?”
“Well that is what actually got my attention” I interjected. “I would be very happy to tackle that I need a new challenge”.

“Obviously we would have to take a drive out to the country and have a look around, and just for the hell of it after all we have nothing to lose, “ he quipped.
“Suppose you did see the asking price,” Vince raised his ample bushy eyebrows, rather introspectively “Not too cheap, huh?”
“Mmm,” I said, adding “R7,9 million, bloody hell, that’s almost R8 million”
“We will have to get some investors interested, not prepared to put all my eggs into one basket, literally”, he replied.
“Tell you what, lets see what I feel like tomorrow, and if I am up to it why don’t we take a drive out, and have a look, just for the hell of it”.

Now it was my turn to raise my manicured eyebrows, cock my head sideways, and almost unbelievingly agree too quickly. This was not a decision Vince would ever make on the spur of the moment. He was always too careful, and conditioned within the confines of the corporate world to make any snappy assessments. My knee jerk reaction to his suggestion was ‘yes, absolutely lets do it, what the hell it would be nice to bugger off into the country for a day”.
Of course we then started justifying the reasons why each one of us was interested in the farming idea, and to what extent financially we could or would extend ourselves. We must have babbled on for at least an hour most times interrupting each other with a pre determined “I definitely will not…” or cutting the other one short “and don’t expect me to…” adding “Wow to breathe in the fresh country air, and to be living in a peaceful environment”, and so the beginning of our dream was being realized.

One comment led to another, until we both unanimously agreed that we would not live farther away than a 2 hour drive from Cape Town. That was a definite, also that we would want farm animals and that the farm had to be situated within a 15/20km proximity of good hospitals, shops, and restaurants! The wants and needs of city people sure were having a say in our final decision as to where we would farm.
Excitedly we communicated with the necessary contacts made available, and set up an appointment for the Sunday, allowing Vince a further day to recuperate.

Of course we too decided that not mentioning any of our folly to friends or family would excuse us any embarrassment should the enquiry come to nothing. However we too had to consider we had our last daughter still living at home almost completing her first year at university. She too had to be considered. So came in plan ‘B’. we have a two bed roomed apartment fairly close by, which she could live in, and we would commute from the farm, and have a base in Cape Town too. Obviously Vince would not be selling his business in Cape Town, but was at the stage where he could arrange for it to be managed during his absence, and he could then have the best of both worlds! Our planning was undoubtedly falling into place.

Friday evening was all consuming discussions about our expectations regarding farming, moving away from the nucleus of our lives, our children, having 2 married daughters, and a grand daughter close by, made our options extremely complicated in that we are a close family benefiting from the fact that we live within 5 kms of each other. Balancing our lives and trying to satisfy each others needs was a pay off we had to chat about as this was going to be a life changing experience for all.

Collapsing into bed that evening, my mind raced with the emotional romanticism of farming life, to the fear of spiders, and more terrified of snakes. The only farm experience I ever had, had been a daily excursion on one or two occasions to a friends farm as a teenager. Much later just after we were married to Vince’s sister’s farm in Alexandria near Port Elizabeth, where we played “glassy -glassy”, and crapped ourselves as the enormous grand father clock chimed forlornly in the dining room, as we inspired the spirits to enter our realm! I did not sleep very well, and in fact Vince was only too happy to share a shapeless single bed with me for the two nights we endured ‘on the farm’. I kept running through my mind the concept of having a rambling home, to having wide open spaces, animals aplenty, and then wrapping my brain around the realities of loneliness, ‘brak water’, non delivery to the door of the morning newspaper, to mention a few comparisons. Sleep did not come easy that evening, and the dreams were confusing to say the least. I actually was half excited, and at the same time crapping myself for the unknown. We both tossed and turned, muttering about ‘not being able to sleep,’ and ‘so much to think about’, etc.

Vince had always had this desire to own his own farm. We had often during our travels by road to and from Port Elizabeth discussed the idea, and after arriving back home, would dismiss it as a notion, a whim, or even just vacillating travel chat.
Reflecting now on my earliest thoughts I must honestly say I had always had a very idealistic notion that farming was an inherent family affair, and that I would basically never be involved in the day to day of running a farm. I come from a middle income regular family who lived in a city, worked at an average job, from 8 till 5, and spent your weekends socializing to the extreme! To work on a farm was the furtherest intention from my mind. So what the hell has happened here?? What has made me want to surrender my life as a whole from the confines of a wonderful family, surrounded and supported by close friends, all that I am familiar with to start a new life, in a strange environment, with unfamiliar equipment and people. I questioned myself long and hard, and kept coming back to the one aspect of being lonely. So how would I change that. I could not literally go ‘balls to the wall’ here, which is what I would be so inclined to do, but rather take a prudent perspective and let events pan out themselves, and in their own time.

Saturday morning woke up to a whole new excitement in my life. I had put most things out of my mind and all that had to do with farming conjured up the most naïve imagination possible to run amok in my mind. All Vince and I did was discuss at length various aspects of farming, the entire Saturday, allowing ourselves time out to watch the rugby in the afternoon, and then once again thinking caps were donned and concepts were put into place which we were resolute we could accomplish. I obviously spent the entire day on the internet too, checking up farms in various areas, prices, what we were looking for, also not too sure on whether we wanted to farm with any stock as in animals, or just vineyards, or even just citrus, with extra fruit trees, like plums and apricots. The combinations were endless. What we did manage to do was to ascertain an Agent in the area we were looking in, and sent him an SMS asking him to contact us, so that we could meet with him on the Sunday afternoon, and perhaps see other available farms in the area. I too kept getting the ‘invalid’ out of his warm bed to view some of the prospective farms I had earmarked. When viewing the areas, the farms for sale I made notes of what we liked, what we wanted to farm, and which best suited us financially too. Within an hour of my SMS, I was contacted, by a very kind Afrikaans gentleman, with a slight “bray” in his accent, confirming a time for the next day, and that he would prepare a list of viewing possibilities. Suddenly I felt as if the ball had rolled too far away from me, and that I needed to run like hell if I was going to catch it!