Our FB friends – Geoff Trotter & Dianna French
There used to be a British sitcom called ‘The Good Life’ that aired on television from 1975 to 1978. Tom and Barbara attempt to escape the modern commercial living to adopt a sustainable, simple and self-sufficient lifestyle in their home with chickens and pigs and the like. Their actions horrify their conventional posh neighbours … and the intermingled plot played out.
Visiting Geoff and Di in Cashmere, Christchurch for the first time, we were exposed to two characters simulating the good life sitcom. Chickens were housed in one corner of the back yard, and a pig in the other. It was made more real by the smell of their other recently deceased pig cooking in the oven; followed by ‘good life’ conversation folly over pork crackling. Name of pig – with held! As long as a rooster didn’t reside within the confines of their farm-let, it was all within council by-laws … right bang smack in the middle of posh county. Just magic!
Our friendship origin was through Toastmasters International. It’s a global organisation that has coached both Geoff, BClaire and I to become more confident speakers in front of audiences. Geoff however, has also climbed the Leadership ladder to represent Toastmaster’s New Zealand as it’s District Governor on the global platform.
Our recent face book visit allowed us to become more knowledgeable as to how Geoff and Di became the Mr and Mrs Trotter sitcom. Boy meets girl – girl flirts with boy – boy all shy – girl returns to land overseas – long distance relationship through the cloud – girl returns – boy swoons girl better – boy and girl get married – arrival of a baby – create self-sufficient home – happily ever living.
Mitchell has flourished from the doting parents they are as evidenced in the photo’s captured by Geoff that hang around the house. But this is just more than a house. It is also a home to welcomed international students to be that home away from home and get that surrogate parentage a young person needs from across the miles.
Di has her finger on lots of intermingled pulses with remarkable poise in-between collecting eggs from the hen house out back. As we sat down to eat steak fillets this face book visit – one had to ask:
Where the hell did you keep the cow?