An ordinary day in France
Yesterday was a typical day for us here in the (now) sunny south-west of France so I thought I’d share it’s pleasures.
First Mrs B and eldest daughter went off to a backstreet tattooist to get their belly buttons pierced. Can’t say I’d fancy it myself, and apparently it wasn’t much fun, but that’s the price of fashion I suppose. Also it’s doing wonders for their posture because they both now walk and sit bolt-upright because it hurts to bend down.
Then, Rasmussen got sent home from the Tour de France the day after he won a stage in the mountains, like Vinokourov before him. Sadly this is becoming normal. Although we’re off to see the Tour pass near here today I must say the pleasure is diminished when I have no idea how many of them have cheated to get there.
Initial reports say that Rasmussen had misled his team about his whereabouts before the race – he said he was in Mexico but was spotted in Italy. Not hard to spot, I imagine, a strapping blond chap like Rasmussen among all the shorter, darker Italians.
Before going out for lunch we noticed that the gite door had been left open, and we knew the holidaymakers had gone out for the day, so we locked it and left a note explaining where we were if they came back and needed a key.
Later on we explained that the doors needed to be locked for insurance reasons, even in this quiet part of the world, and were told ‘yes, but there was someone asleep in the house who felt unwell and decided to stay home’. I can honestly say that’s the first time we’ve locked a holidaymaker in to the gite.
Then we went for lunch at a new restaurant in our local town – 12 euros each for the menu of the day, and very good it was too. I took the gigot d’agneau if you’re interested.