Wednesday, 12 March 2014

The occasional usefulness of lost things

A couple of days ago we had a family day out at one of our favourite places — Collioure, on the coast. Place of flower-filled streets with glimpses of the sea, anchovies, deep red wine, lack of parking and terrible art. Out of season, like now, the parking is easier, the flowers in bud but the art mostly still headache-inducing. We had a happy day of wandering; my boys a more serious three hour hike, me thinking, writing and drinking tea overlooking the bay.

This morning Ezra discovered he left his bag at the wonderfully named restaurant L'insolite' — meaning, strange, unusual, a little weird (I think) — I have offered, like the selfless person I am, to go and fetch it . . . such hardship.

Rocque's wonderful anchovie shop in Collioure.

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