Sunday, 8 August 2010
and the driving is restricted. Mainly by these huge fridge freezers with names like Marauder, Rapido, challenger, etc rather than Turgido, or Lard- wagon.
This was a particularly apt name; driven by some happy folks from the flat lands unaware that they were leaving in their wake a stream of laughing, swerving French drivers. (con = well, something a tad rude)
We spent our two day annual vacation in the Camargue this year: land of immense skies, roaming horses and flamingos which I noticed look rather like golf clubs when flying. High spots were the wonderful 'Grande Motte' with its Star Trek film set architecture and over-bronzed glitzy women in white, and Arles where we saw bits of the huge annual photo exhibition, part of which was housed in a collection of old industrial buildings.
We stayed in a horrible hotel and ate prisoner food — the problem with booking something in August the day before going — should have just camped in a bush, the comfort level would have been higher.
I noticed their publicity said something about 'sometimes the best addresses are a secret', well they should bloody keep it as one. Anyway apart from that the time was a delight reminding us how important it is to get away with your partner/husband/ person you have sex with, so you can talk about lots of stuff, not just who should have put the bins out last night.
Following some holiday snaps . . .