French Cows And A Few Goats

In an extract from his book, French Cows and Four Kisses, Philip Dixon relates what happens when he pays his first visit to his resident goats shortly after purchasing a farm in France.

- Philip Dixon

After about a fortnight of working with the cows, I thought I ought to spend some time with the goats. Madame Françoise was indisposed again, so I accompanied Patricia down to the goat sheds.

Patricia was 24 years old and a clone of her mother; both wore thick, bottle bottom glasses, and had mops of curly blonde hair. Patricia kept her hair off her face with a large elasticated Alice band, but at the edge of this restraining band it exploded into a riot of unruly blonde curls. By comparison, her mother’s curls would not have dared move outside the lacquered shield that cocooned her coiffured bubble. Both women protected their clothes under brightly coloured wrap-around pinnies, the like of which I had not seen for 25 years. To complete the fetching ensemble, they wore blue ankle-length Wellington boots. And here was me thinking French women were chic.

There was one fundamental difference between the two women — Patricia loved her charges but Françoise merely tolerated them, albeit with a thin wand-style stick.