Butterball

Well I'm back after 14 days in the French countryside. Interestingly it's easier to find internet cafes in Sri Lanka than it is in northern France - I'm sure there's a message in there somewhere.

Since we last spoke I've spent a couple of weeks chez famille at a seaside resort called Wissant, about 15kms out of Calais. "Charming" is probably how you'd describe it, a cute, bijou, seaside town, a walk to the expansive beach with huge dunes one side and World War II bunkers the other (!). It's that bit of the world, and I can only guess what the Yanks thought when they landed over 60 years ago. To me it's reminiscent of childhood holidays in Cornwall, even down to the weather which was almost reliable in it's schizophrenia - one day warm and sunny, next day cold and raining. On the warm days the beach would be full, on the cold everyone heads to the sailing club/ bar/ pub and those under the age of 18 get told to stop whinging, it's "bracing" and "fresh air is good for you". My measure of fresh these days is when it's cooler in the European summer than the Sydney winter ....

Anyway, the reason for this extra vacation in addition to my "International Year of Learning", was my mother's 60th Birthday. She, my Pa, the 2 crazy dogs, my brother, his wife and newish baby Josh took up residence in 2 adjoining fishermen's cottages. On the warm days all was blissful, but for a few days there when the rain was coming down in sheets it all looked as if it might go a bit pear shaped!!! But to the relief of most, Mother had a never-ending stream of visitors arriving to celebrate the "BIG" birthday which meant the the Cargill Family didn't descend into the normal bickering - everyone was on their best behaviour. Except for the day that my dad lost one of the dogs, but after a few pressions ....

So here I am, duly rested after re-connecting with my family and my European roots. I'm pleasantly tired, somewhat wind-tanned, and looking forward to seeing my dear husband and hounds once more, and luxury of luxuries, sleeping in my own bed. That is if I can fit in after a month eating butter croissants ... oh butterball, me.