I'm at my house in France this week. Most people, when I tell them this, think I'm having a lovely restful holiday, but generally this is very far from the case. There are always a hundred jobs to be done in the house and the garden and, though of course I really love being here, it's often quite exhausting. The other thing people always say is, Ooh, plenty of wine -- but as I hardly drink, that's not on the agenda either. Add to that the fact that I don't eat meat, and those great French dinners are off the menu too. But I love France for many other reasons than the food and drink. The house is in a gloriously peaceful rural area, surrounded by green fields, and all you hear as you sit outside on the terrace is the sound of the wind rustling in the poplars and the church bells drifting across the meadows from the nearby village. And right now, the roses...well you can see.
Yesterday, though, I had a lovely day out. After the usual trips to the bank, the car insurance company and the Bricomarche (DIY store), we drove out to Cancale, on the north Brittany coast, and had lunch in a little cafe where they made the most delicious moules frites (yes, I do eat fish from time to time).
Then it was off to the beach. The day had started grey and cold, with rain forecast which didn't materialise. But by early afternoon the sky was blue and the sun very bright. There was still a cold wind but you could avoid it by lying down, which we did, and promptly went to sleep.
There's an amazing old chapel at the top of the cliffs, so when we woke up we walked up the cliff path between the hedgerows which are full of wild roses and honeysuckle. When we got there the place was full of French youth smoking fags, but they dispersed fairly soon and we peered about, looked out of the window
and finally climbed down again, admiring the view from the top of the cliffs. Almost nobody on the beach, which was amazing.
I've been reading less than usual but I have just finished the most astonishingly good book called The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton, kindly lent me by Simon. You'll be hearing about this soon.
Bye! or rather aurevoir.
