Brown stuff

Shortly into your new life in the French countryside, you’ll quickly become acquainted with merde. More than just the default gros mot for adults and children alike, it’s an integral part of farming and a genuinely organic alternative to artificial fertilisers. You’ll also learn that while donkeys, mules and nicely brought up ponies will deposit their leavings in the same spot, horses and cattle won’t – and indeed delight in being as random with their night soil as possible.

If you do have gee gees and are diligent at tidying up after them, getting rid of sackfulls of the stuff to keen veggie gardeners is easy enough. Avoid using the free issue recycle bags though, as the mayor will find out and be on your doorstep in a trice, pleading the commune’s poverty and putting you on short rations thereafter. And then trundling back down the drive in his shiny new BMW.

For a particularly vigorous olfactory workout though, duck poo is hard to beat. Though its use is strictly limited and tightly controlled, twice a year tractor pulled honey wagons leave a fine coating of the stuff over newly planted crops. And (should you happen to live adjacent) your nasal cavities as if scoured by Cillit Bang. Thankfully, most farmers are sensitive to their neighbour’s comfort and will only spread it on the more distant fields just before it rains, so any associated hum is short lived.

But you might want to change the route of your evening wander for a day or two though - and preferably upwind too.