Going on holiday is mental, is it not? All the items on the To Do Before Going Away list are obscenely impossible to complete but returning home is even more hectic.
We returned home yesterday from two lovely weeks in France to scenes from Great Expectations. The interior of the house was like Miss Haversham's gaff, decorated in cobwebs left, right and centre and dust piled high. I'd forgotten to wash two cereal bowls before we left, so there were green trees growing outside of the washing up bowl.
The garden was either overgrown or dead. It was stressful as I didn't want to come home anyway, I love being abroad too much, especially when there has been so much unrest over here with the riots.
Our car was a "Bitty Car". This is a phrase that me, my brother and sister used to use to describe holiday cars that are so packed you can barely see the people inside; you know, completely covered in sand and filled to the rafters with all the randomness of holidays; suitcases, fishing nets, crabbing equipment, box of Cornflakes, croissants, the odd nappy, various shoes, a wetsuit, wine, a sick bag and a towel that wouldn't fit in the cases.
Was it worth going away?
|What we saw|
|What we read|
|What we ate|
|With plenty of this|
|We got plenty of sleep (note the duplicate Noo Noo)|
|A view fit for a Prince|
|Sun tan for the Princess|
|What we spotted|
|And this one|
|The kids got on well...most of the time anyway!|
|The Prince scoffed his own weight in ice cream|
|Dreamed of living in a place like this|
|Watched the Princess bodyboard 1,000 times|
|Enjoyed croissants every day|
|Shopped. They do tattoo sleeves in Brittany!!!|
|Hit the beach|
|Loving the Victorian look!|