Today I am chez the grandspoilers so I am making the most of some downtime to share our mini winter wonderland getaway from last weekend. We went up into the Pyrenees to stay in a chalet with the Stephs, my beaux parents, the parents of my beaux frères, and my nephews. They have all been up there the entire week but very kindly invited us to join them for the weekend. Despite the onset of the lurgy and a couple of sleepless nights it was indeed rather wonderful. Even the sleepless nights meant sitting on the sofa, squalling babe in arms, watching the snow silently and beautifully falling through the enormous windows of the chalet.
We did some tramping in the snow minus mini-beasts, so a glorious moment with noone whining or tugging. We did some tramping in the snow plus mini-beasts, so yes there was some whining and tugging but there was also some snowball throwing, some icicle battling and some snowy playgrounds larks.
And we had a go on the piste des luges which the Monster thought was about the best thing she had ever done. She was a bit put out that we wouldn't allow her to have a go toute seule however when she insisted on hauling the sled up the hill herself rather than one of us having to drag her we were most encouraging. Embarassingly, I am terrible at steering the luge. Everyone, the Monster included, quickly realised that going down with me was not much fun. Not only am I completely unable to maintain a straight line but I go wonky very, veeeery slowly.
Wrigglesworth had to be content peeping out of his bundling.
He made up for not really being equipped to make the most of the snow by being the happiest little chappy in the chalet.
Particularly when receiving les douce attentions of his favourite cousin Elise, who he thinks is les genoux de l'abeille.
There were two utterly brilliant things about the weekend:
1. This little red suit that the Monster is wearing was hand-made by her great grandmother, Mamie Jane, and was worn by her grandmother, Mamilo, when she was the age Matilda is now. Isn't that beautiful? And it's red. How did Mamie Jane know??
2. Mémère's* homemade nutella. I cannot describe the joy I felt when after a sleepless night of coughing (me) and squalling (Wrigglesworth), I shuffled dejectedly over to the breakfast table to discover a gigantic pot of this ambrosia, which last past my lips over four years ago now. Mémère's nutella should be declared a national monument, the eighth wonder of the world, it should be protected, it should be prescribed to all poor sleep-deprived parents. It is, in a charming phrase my brother just shared with me, the mutt's nuts. Although strangely, there are no nuts in it.
(*my beaux frères' grandmother)
And this is me and the fella. Happy.