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| Our house in Brittany |
We just
loved Brittany. Gaston’s father has a house near Tregastel and it is very close
to the sea so we were able to go for walks and admire the stunning scenery –
which consists mainly of giant rocks. This place is a geologist’s dream.
I had
forgotten what traveling with a small child is like and rediscovered this
experience on our 5 hour trip from Paris to Brittany with Biggles – who is now
15 months old.
He is never
happy when strapped into a car seat – and especially not for five hours. But he
is gorgeous boy and we love him dearly. He is especially gorgeous because he is
a grandson and can be handed back to his parents whenever necessary.
15 month old
babies attempt to eat a lot but not much ends up in their mouths. I am not sure
if Hertz will try to clean the inside of the car or just decide to turn it into
scrap.
We explored
and ate French food and drank French wine. What could be better than that.
There are
Puffins in Brittany but they are on the outer islands – and the boats were not
running.
We picked up
the car at Gare du Nord – which is next to where Molly and Gaston live. This
proved to be a mistake and Cate has advised me that she is NEVER driving in
Paris again.
It was a
horrendous, hair-raising and excruciatingly slow trip to get out of Paris – and
it was almost as bad getting back in. I don’t know what I was thinking of
because every other time we have done something like this we have picked up the
car outside Paris.
We spent a
couple of days in Paris but we did not have time to do much except get Cate to
the Eric Bompard shop on the Champs Elysees so that she could buy things.
The men are
today installing the dog fence in anticipation of the arrival of a dog. I
understand and agree fully with everything you have said about dogs but this is
now out of my hands.
All I can do
is prepare for the impending catastrophe.
Good luck with the puppy (when he/she arrives).
ReplyDeleteMaybe you should ask the men installing the dog fence to include a dog house. You never know, it might come in handy in the near future… when the innocent little animal succeeds in disrupting your harmonious existence. Click here.
ReplyDeleteYou're getting a dog?! Wow...that's quite a commitment for a died-in-the-wool cat person. Good luck!
ReplyDeleteA simple question, just out of curiosity. In Brittany (which I happen to know like the back of my hand, because my children and their mother are Breton), it’s rare for the owner of an old stone longère [click here for a French-language explanation of this architectural term] to paint the woodwork in garish red. In seaside villages, this might occur if the owner happened to own a red boat, and had a stock of leftover paint. Otherwise, I can’t understand why Gaston’s father would have polluted visually the façade of his otherwise lovely old house. Is he maybe color-blind, and under the impression that his shutters and doors have the same kind of friendly deep green hue as the nearby woods? Another possible explanation: He’s a former fireman or torero, with a passion for red. Fortunately, the situation could be corrected rapidly by a good coat of light grey paint (a popular unobtrusive color for external woodwork in rural Brittany).
ReplyDeleteI was under the impression that in most places people paint their houses whatever color they want. Perhaps William got off his meds again.
ReplyDelete