We are back from France. The compensation for British weather is that France is only a ferry away. You know how I said that I probably wouldn't have any internet access while we were away? Well, I didn't really think that was going to happen, but it did. Two weeks with no wi-fi, so I've come back to a pile of un-checked email (including some moderately important work stuff - oh, well) and several hundred unread blog posts. You'd think I might have used all the non-internet time for getting useful stuff done, but no- mostly I was just eating butter. (Did I mention we were in France?) The area we were in (Brittany) has this amazing butter which is unsalted -creamy and almost sweet - but studded with big flaky salt crystals. Honestly. Honestly. It's like having your mouth filled with dancing angels. Why don't the rest of us demand that our own butter manufacturers get on board with this? In the first four days, we had to go back to the shop three times to buy more butter because we were eating it so darn fast. Also - the other regional speciality is this same salted butter boiled up with sugar to make salted butter caramel. Salted butter caramel everywhere! Why did nobody tell me this? I would have gone years ago.
On a related note - she who goes to France without elasticated waistbands is an idiot. Ahem.
Anyway. I'd say that it's good to be back except it's not - it stinks to be back. I feel discombobulated and discomposed and cranky. Why isn't my fridge full of salty crunchy creamy butter? Why aren't my parents getting the children up in the mornings? Why isn't there a beach outside my window? I don't want to go back to work, and I don't want Jay to go back either. Why can't we go to the aquarium instead? Also - why did I think that it was a good idea to book the children's first dentist appointment tomorrow?
I love holidays. I really do. I just hate how, for the first few days back, I always feel like this: