Seven years ago I was having my summer fun in the sun in the south of France, in that silly village by the sea called St Tropez, and I  met my first cloggies.. They were a magnificent sight to be seen outside of their natural environment, the men stood a head and more taller than everyone else in the room (ok, most of the women too) . They were tall, blond , Viking like, and they spoke with VERY loud voices, filling up Tahiti Plage with voices that boomed even over the soft continuous roar of the Med roughed up by a touch of  the Mistral wind. They seemed freer, happier, wilder than everyone else, and I started to fall in love with the lot of them.
I wondered for years what it would be like to live among them, to be one of them, if it was possible.
I had no idea of what I was up against and what I was in for when I finally deposited myself , eight suitcases, and three dogs on the doorstep of my houseboat in the canals of Amsterdam.
This blog is my story of what it was I found out.