Tears in Provence

Reader, I realised the dream. And may I give you a warning: DON’T.

For 20 years, I laboured in London and New York, manufacturing TV ads. I crammed gourmet food into the mouths of greedy, demanding clients with high anxiety pumping through their veins along with the copious alcohol I provided. My pleasure in food, drink and life itself quite drained away as my liver withered. After so much, I quit.

I bought a ruined olive mill in the foothills of the Alps