MANY is the time that I have declared that the age of finding a true bargain in the French Hinterland is well and truly passed, and as is the case with anybody who deals in sweeping statements, I have been made to sweep those statements into my mouth on many occasions.

The latest person to serve me up a slice of jingo pie was a friend who has recently bought a new property and is in need of somebody to do some work - cue Trevor.

I had an inkling that there was something special about the property because in casual conversation the word "château" had slipped in. This does not necessarily mean very much because a château is a real "catch-all" kind of term that is used to describe everything from a reasonable-sized house with a couple of vines in front of it to a full-blown Versailles kind of affair.

It transpired that our friend had bought a couple of houses. One of them renovated, the other semi-derelict, and with a 14th century château thrown in as an afterthought for the kind of price that would normally buy you a two-bedroom terrace in the UK. It was with some mild curiosity that Sue and I set off to go and survey the project, specifically the derelict house, that being my stock-in-trade.

To say that we were gobsmacked by what we found would be something of an understatement. I see an awful lot of buildings of all descriptions in my trade and it is pretty rare that I am lost for words, but words failed me.

A cursory tour of the two houses could not be carried out quick enough as we champed at the bit to inspect the château. We finally got to pass through the massive oak gates that had cost the former owner more than £11,000 to have made and passed into the castle courtyard. It is fair to say that a large part of the castle was in ruins, but the main walls are largely intact; there is a huge tower, the chapel is only just hanging on, and there is immense potential.

In fact, there was so much potential in the pile of earth surrounded by sturdy walls that the last owner had bankrupted himself in restoring the château to its present condition. After running out of cash he had even tried to sell it in a lottery in Las Vegas, going so far as flying out to Nevada before discovery that property sale by lottery is illegal in France, and most everywhere else.

Châteaux with potential are fickle mistresses and can induce normally sane people to spend money in a truly outrageous way. The signs of his profligacy went far beyond the wrought iron griffin doorknocker on the gates with matching two foot-long key, all the way to the swimming pool beyond the château. A fair word to describe the pool would be municipal - when asked why he built a swimming pool 16 metres long by 10 metres wide, he simply said that he thought that a large house needed a large pool.

At the end of the day none of us really owns anything, we are only temporary guardians. One guardian was ruined by the renovation of the château, another guardian has taken over the baton, and I shall be there to help him. You may have noticed that I didn't qualify that statement: will I be helping him towards ruin or renovation? We shall see.