The gypsy lady at the door was selling clothes pegs and small posies of lavender, "what's wrong with your fingers my dear"? was the question. My wife told her that it was some form of eczema and that she couldn't get rid of it anyhow. "Goats milk, my treasure, goats milk, that's the answer," she said. Well, nothing to lose, we had the ground and enough housing so goats it is. Fresh straw in the pick up and off to the lady who kept a large number of goats not too far away but apparently there's more to buying a goat than just the exchange of cash.
Yes, she had a nice Saanen, in milk, she would part with but an inspection of our premises was necessary before any sale could take place. "I will come over to see you tomorrow and bring the goat with me, if I am satisfied that it will go to a good home we can do business, all right"? Well it had to be didn't it?
The next day, as good as her word said lady arrived with the goat. After a few suggestions for improvements a deal was done. We did not know it at the time, but for the next few years, the, goat, ruled the roost!"
As to the eczema. It did get better, but whether or not it was the goats milk, who knows?