Pour another glass.

We welcome the mist that hangs over the River Cele, swirling above the water, blanketing the valley in silence, no birds can be heard singing just the gentle sound of the River flowing past.  The mist lets us know that today it is going to be glorious.   As we meander along the winding river towards Cahors, a town in the South-West France, not far from the River Lot, the sun now high in the sky warms our bodies.  In the distance hidden like a jewel between the trees is a castle named Lagrezette.  It is six hundred years old surround by vines and woodland sitting high on the plateau where nothing but nature meets the sky.   We enter under an archway, covered in bright pink blooms and there before us is Castle Lagrezette, as we step out onto the gravel driveway, that wonderful crunch under our feet, a cuckoo welcomes us.  An afternoon of wine tasting has been arranged, a handsome Frenchman opens the large engraved wooden doors, bonjour, my heart skips a beat, is it the french accent, the friendly smile, or just the magic of France!

Inside a magnificent fireplace steeped in history stands proudly off to one side, statues, paintings, old wine bottles, wrought iron and the distinct smell of red wine take our breath away.  We are taken into the cellar and shown the rows of hand made wooden barrels, the walls lined with dusty bottles.  Our French guide explains how the wonderful wine of Lagrezette is made, firstly the grapes must be hand picked, no machines here, then it in lslowly poured into barrels to mature, the barrels are only used for three vintages anything more would taint that wonderful delicate taste.  The barrels are manually rotated over the three years, a labour of love, each barrel caressed by the wine maker, marked with chalk and then left lovingly to wait until it is time to rotate again.  We sip vintage after vintage, each one better than the last, a flurry of purchases are made, Christian our host, presents us with a magnum of red wine as a gift from the Chateau.

Life is but a dream here in France, we settle back in our courtyard open the magnum of red and toast life.