Foie Gras

En Provence there was lots of this

Beaucoup de these

A lot of sitting here

Tons of this around (including the bees!)

Lots of these

And a great deal of general (usually drunken) holiday merriment.

Sigh.

I feel like a goose who has been crammed full of stuff to make foie gras. Obviously, there was no funnel forcibly shoved down my throat, I did it all to myself quite willingly. However, I wish I’d shown a bit of restraint now and again. There is a worrying amount of trouser-tightening going on. (No rude comments please). I only have two and a half weeks to prepare for my next sojourn, to Mykonos, and the panic is beginning to mount as we’re meeting some lovely friends there. They’re old friends who moved to Sydney six years ago and whilst there have turned into “uber gays”, meaning they don’t have a single ounce of excess body fat and have literally everything trimmed, waxed, curled, dyed and tonsured. Sitting next to them makes me feel positively ancient and ‘under-developed’. I need to put in at least a little effort to improve. Actually, they’re great so they won’t be bothered anyway and it’ll be brilliant to see them - it’s been far too long this time and I kinda miss them.

I know, I know. “how many holidays do you actually go on?”

I can hear you all saying it. I do work in the travel industry tho. I’m NOT a trolley dolly however, so before anyone starts bleating on about that – cut it out!

My week away has flown by. I can’t believe I’m back in London already. The taste of croissants has diminished, the scent of lavender faded and the Provencal skies seem a beautiful, but distant memory. The weather here is still a pile of pants. It’s been so wet I’m almost convinced I’m beginning to grow webbed toes and fingers.

Bugger. Now where did I leave my brolly....