Here follows a scrapbook of pictures and thoughts from our holidays. Sorry it is so scrappy. Back in the day I was capable of ordering my thoughts... But that was a day that did not begin with mini-beasts clamouring for breakfast and did not end with mini-beasts clamouring for the day not to end just yet.
So, our holidays were: pubs and hugs, parks and boats, Pimms and beer, lovely people and ice cream and lots and lots of green.
Things I realised:
Beer is better than wine. A sign that I am not getting old? Or a sign that I have gone past old and out the other side, into senile old pub hag?
I like holidays because I like dropping out of the world. No contact, no interaction, no need to "keep up". It is a relief. When I came home I found it hard to dive back in. I didn't want to go to the market, or the pharmacy, or answer emails or return calls or do anything except hole up at home. The effort of being in society is tiring and I don't remember how tiring until I step away. Am I weird, or does anyone know what I'm talking about?
France is home. I felt like a tourist in Blighty and breathed an involuntary sigh of relief when we exited the chunnel into the early morning light of Calais. I consider this to be the best of both worlds. I also experience an intense joy each and every time I return to Blighty, all the stuff that used to be ordinary is now extraordinary. A packet of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons is enough to ensure that my cup overfloweth for at least a week. Whereas what I coveted as a child, French chatter and une boulangerie à chaque coin de rue, is now my everyday. C'est magnifique.
As my dad said, "There's a reason why extended families should live in close proximity". We went to visit my nana, Great Nana Iris, in Derbyshire. As I've mentioned before, my ever ready nana has faltered in recent years but when we arrived with the kids she glowed and we spent such a happy afternoon. When I saw how being with the mini-beasts breathed life into her life I came away feeling sad that we cannot see her more often. The young and the old should be together.
Matilda cannot walk. She can run, skip, climb, dance or fall over.
And finally, Owen + steering wheel = small boy heaven.