Following the dream on a bicycle made for two.

There is an article in this month's Woman and Home magazine about achieving your dreams. Or at least, having a dream, then taking a chance and following it. Like mes amis en France, Vera and Lester. Who sold up here in England and moved to a place that found their hearts in south-west France. They have spent the best part of a year living in a series of little caravans/ gazebos/ awnings whilst making the first moves towards renovating their property and living a self-sufficient lifestyle. They have had the courage to make it happen. Bonkers too, but mostly courageous.

I read this magazine article with the first cup of tea of the day today. I wanted it to inspire me, offer a glimpse of hope, an idea about how Andy and I could set about realising our own dream of owning a small-holding (or at least a little cottage in the country with a whacking great garden.) What I really wanted to do was read about a couple (like us) who had a house and a small pot of savings (like us), who already grow their own veg and keep chickens (like us) and who found a place and did it up and then I could say 'We could do that, too.'

But no. It seemed that the people featured in the article all had the intial input of something called 'A LARGE SUM OF MONEY' to kick start their dream.

For example, one couple used the wife's HUGE redundancy pay-off to buy a business AND a cottage in Cornwall. Another couple pooled resources with their parents and grandparents, and sold the husband's SECOND property to buy a country mansion where they all live happily together under the same roof but with separate facilities. There was a lot of 'selling second/ third properties,' and 'using substantial savings/ redundancies' in order for these people to realise their dream lifestyles.

'That's no good,' I snort, after regaling Andy with these tales and trying not to spill tea on the duvet in sheer rage. 'Unless you have a second property or rich grandparents you haven't told me about.'
'Fraid not,' says Andy. 'Nor am I likely to be made redundant. And our savings would just about buy us a medium-size family saloon car, possibly with air-conditioning. Not a smallholding/ cottage with massive garden.'

'So how are we going to get our place in the countryside?' I ask.
'We have to have a plan,' says Andy. 'That is our downfall. We never have a plan.'
'Well, we do have a kind of plan,' I say. 'Tybalt, will you stop doing that you revolting creature.' Tybalt is sitting on the window sill licking up a tiny trickle of condensation. Very loudly. He is obsessed with condensation.
'Our plan,' I continue, 'is to buy a small-holding or cottage with large garden and grow our own fruit and vegetables, chickens, geese, pigs and bees and avoid other people as much as possible. It sounds like a pretty good plan to me.'
'It is,' says Andy. 'But what I mean is we need to just do it. Like Vera and Lester. They just got up and did it.'
'It took them quite a while to get there,' I say. 'It was a bit touch and go for a few months.'
'But they did it,' says Andy. 'And if we want our dream, we have to stop thinking about it and just do it.'

He's quite right of course. That's what we should do. Tomorrow we should call an estate agent and put the house on the market. And start looking for a place to buy. And let the tide of Fate sweep us along at whatever pace it wants. Fast, slow, easy or difficult, the skill is to tell yourself that the dream will happen and believe in it 100%.

Anyway, today I planted sweetcorn, squashes, pumpkins, sunflowers and late season leeks. I transplanted some herbs and the early leeks in an attempt to make them look more like pencils and less like sewing needles with bits of cotton hanging off them. It's good to have a dream. It's also important not to put your life on hold as you pedal your way towards it.