Three trains, one underground & a whole lot of scenery...

We had to wait right until the end of the summer for our holiday this year, but it was worth the wait. Amidst much excitement, anticipation and adrenalin which covered how very tired we were at starting the day so very early, we set off to catch our first train. Up to London via train and underground (never a good experience with luggage) at the crack of dawn to catch Eurostar. Laden with luggage, books, magazines and croissants we boarded the train at St Pancras and before we really had time to adjust to French time we were in Lille.



Just enough time for us to decipher where we were to board our TGV southwards (we had forgotten just how stressful this bit can be). Searching desperately for your coach number, locating the boarding point along the very long platform, negotiating the stairs, lift and escalators with 100s of other passengers and somehow managing to watch aghast as our youngest daughter disappeared with her luggage in one hand down an escalator whilst we stood waiting for the lift. I will never forget the look of horror on her face as we set off as fast as our luggage allowed in hot pursuit of her!



Excitement over, we somehow managed to hurl ourselves and half of the girls' wardrobes onto the train and sat back ... and relaxed... and smiled ... and ate ... and smiled ... and read... and smiled ... and played cards ... and smiled.




And all the while the everchanging beauty of the French countryside surrounded us. Through flat green fields, lush green pasture lands, through rain showers, clouds and brilliant sunshine we headed south. The alps to one side the Massif Central on the other as the landscape grew more dramatic, the temperature rose. Medieval hilltop villages, olive trees, meandering streams, majestic rivers flowing through Provencal cities. Plane trees, poplar trees, cypress trees and olive trees.



When i was at University I spent summers driving up and down the length of France and had vowed to do the journey this way ... I think the other passengers could gauge by the squeals of delight coming from our table just how happy we were.



Five hours and hundreds of kilometres later we found ourselves on a blisteringly hot Provencal train platform, negotiating once more the stairs, lifts and escalators ... a quick bus trip took us to our final destination and after the obligatory "I think it's this way, no that way, no, this way" walk to our new home which took a good half an hour longer than necessary, we arrived at a huge 19th century wooden door that would be our front door whilst we were there.



We arrived to half locked shutters, with tantalising glimpses of the view beyond



Views to the left of an already setting sun from our terrace against the bluest sky I had seen in a very long time



And just looking to the right stood the most beautiful 13th century church that would waken us each morning and frame our glorious view across centuries old chimneys, balconies, shutters and weather worn and sun bleached terracotta tiles.

Stuff happens....

that keeps me away from here. But NOTHING could stop me wishing my gorgeous youngest daughter the very best of Birthdays!
I will be back soon I hope x

Oh I Do Love To Live Beside The Seaside

So just let me be beside the seaside




I do love to stroll upon the Prom Prom Prom



Eat my chips beside the sea




Stand child-like in front of the merry-go-round



Enchanted by the myriad of colours



Remembering days when the girls were small enough to be picked up



and carried on to their chosen horse, where they would cling desperately, wide grins beaming across their smiling faces



And indeed, days when I was little and trips to the seaside were the highlight of my summer.

Local Colour

I love the ordinariness of Saturday mornings - the lazy start to the day, the gentle waking up to the start of the weekend, the chance to wander round in your pjs, the stark contrast to the buzz and frenzy of the week. I love days when a stroll round town, following a familiar path at a leisurely pace with one or two of my family by my side, avoiding the crowds brings me comfort from its very ordinariness. Spring days when its not quite warm enough to pack a picnic and head for the beach, just a little too early in the year to wander round a country house and marvel at the gardens - days when its best to savour the familiar and enjoy the colour on my doorstep.



Our Saturdays have changed slightly recently, Big Sister has just started a Saturday job and so we find ourselves no longer glancing at the clock watching the day disappear as she languishes in bed till noon, these days she's up and ready and out of here and our family party becomes a party of three.



We follow a well trodden path down into town, noting today the many armfuls of flowers being taken home for well deserved mums tomorrow (even my youngest can't help but smile and notice the many dads looking rather harassed in the shops, surrounded by children desperately seeking the perfect gift).



The spring flowers and tables on the streets lighten my step as you can honestly smell the scent of Spring in the air.



So we wander through The Lanes into the local street market, which these days seems home to nearly as many cupcakes as flea market finds,



still I'm not complaining, it all adds to the fun of it.



It's great to know that if you get too hungry looking through the pile of old books there's an Oreo cupcake with your name on waiting for you on the next table!
The vegetable stall becomes more colourful each week as the choice of produce increases,



We buy a bag of mixed salad leaves from the old tin bath and I stop to admire one of my favourite shops.



This really is a good one, full of vintage inspired items, wonderful household goods and gifts.

A quick walk past the shop where Big Sister walks and try not to press our noses up to the window to get a better peep at her ... onwards towards the Pavillion where we are surprise by yet more stalls and discover a food festival taking place. Oh I wish this blog was in smellorama, the wafts and fragrances were really mouthwatering...



huge vats of curries, handmade chutneys and pickles, cheeses, baklava,



olives (we had some of those),




baker's stalls with piles of rustic bread and patisserie (almond croissants and pain au chocolat for Mother's Day breakfast)




and we couldn't resist, and nor would you, buying some of this delicious ginger beer. It's not, I fear, the kind advocated by Enid Blyton, this is of the alcoholic variety and I'm not sure the Famous Five would have solved nearly as many a mystery under the influence... and as I sit here typing, i am trying really hard not to open a bottle now as it is so darned tasty...



To round it off a very unexpected and lovely treat from Mr Roses - lunch in our favourite - Bill's. A riot of colour and a feast for your tummy and your eyes.



So I guess in many ways not quite the ordinary Saturday morning that we envisaged and full of enough local colour (and ginger beer) to last a weekend or two.

Fanciful Friday

Today feels like an Amelie kind of day



Hope you find some sunshine too

Tulip Thursday

Not so much a 'Tip toe through the tulips" kind of Thursday, more of a "saunter into town, meet a friend for coffee and take time to smell the roses" kind of day...

Wednesday - Finding my Glee

My kind of Glee - 1940s style...

Same Again Tuesday

Not that I'm complaining! And so happy to hear that I'm not alone at the prospect of washing being able to dry on the line again. Never thought I'd do a post (let alone two) about my dirty washing ... oh the whiff of freshly line-dried washing....!

This Week - Good Morning Monday!

The perfect full stop to a sunny Spring weekend. Wall to wall sunshine. Time for some gardening, spring cleaning, catching up with some old friends over a glass or two. The gentleness of a Spring Sunday that allows you to nurse a hangover, spend time together, do some more gardening, get the homework out of the way. Open all the windows and let the sunshine in.



In short, the kind of weekend that makes you not mind about airing your washing in public!

A lot to embrace...

It's been a very domestic kind of week here. Lots going on, dance shows, concerts, usual homework stuff and all of this unfurling against the tragic backdrop of what is happening in Japan. It is so hard to comprehend the magnitude of this disaster and I sit typing this with one ear constantly listening to the very sad and unnerving updates on the radio.



It has been a week of sunshine and grey skies, mist rolling in from the sea days followed by spring in your step kind of days. The sunny days are of course what I have been waiting for, the chance to go out into the garden, feel that sun on my face and start to unfurl from my winter hibernation. In corners of the garden, hidden under winter foliage, the primroses are starting to appear, their creamy hues adding a much needed boost to the tired, neglected garden. Underneath the apple tree the daffodils are blooming and the old, discarded hyacinths that sat on my fireplace last year have popped up to keep them company.
All of this has brought a much needed smile to my face.



Last week my eldest daughter finally had her braces fitted. After seven years of trips to an orthodontist and a year in which she had to have 8, yes, 8, teeth removed she was finally referred to the local hospital for her treatment. The staff have been lovely, thorough and her treatment has been remarkably quick in coming.



But it hasn't been easy. I had no idea what a painful process it was. Watching your child cry and not being able to do anything is the worst, isn't it? For three days we were counting the hours before the next painkiller could be taken.



Two days after they were fitted, with a mouth full of ulcers and blisters, she had to stand at the front of a stage, grinning inanely with her mouth wide open for a drama piece she is working on at college. I don;t think I could have done that...



In a desperate attempt to get some carbs down her the other day, she grabbed a ball of bread and threw it down her throat which resulted in a very scary moment with me attempting a very poor heimlich manoeuvre on her (she is at least eight inches taller than me, and were it not so scary at the time, it must have been very funny to see).



What has impressed me so much this week is her complete embracing of the brace. She has tried to see the funny side of things at all times. she has not once tried to hide away in self consciousness and I am incredibly proud of her. I know that deep down inside she must be counting away the days till the darned things are removed and hoping that they will be off before University. And I spend my days planning calorie filled meals that are as sloppy as they come and that will keep my beautiful girl smiling.

For Lily

Mr Roses bought me this bottle of Lily of the Valley perfume from Penhaligon's for Christmas. Whenever we are in London and near to the shop we pop in for our fix of heady, floral scents. It is like walking round the most delicious greenhouse or woodland walk in the height of Spring. Each time we visit we daub ourselves in various aromas and spend the rest of the day trying to decide which is our favourite and, more importantly, which scent our favourite actually was...
You might remember that we bought Bluebell for our eldest daughter's 16th birthday and that for my birthday a couple of years ago I was lucky enough to receive Elizabethan Rose so we are well on our way to recreating our favourite cottage garden smells... But on this visit, I stumbled across the little bottle of Lily of the Valley and was immediately transported back to my childhood.



Not only did I fall in love with its deliciously sweet but fresh fragrance but it conjured up so many memories for me. Past Christmases of boxes of Lily of the Valley soaps, talcum powders and bath salts piled up in the bathroom or in my mother's bedroom. At the side of her dressing table were two little cupboards where she kept her perfumes. I remember so vividly the pretty packaging and fragrances that would fill the air each time I opened the cupboard doors... for me as a child, it was the equivalent of having my nose pressed up against the sweet shop window. Dreams of growing up, luxuriating in lily of the valley scented baths before putting on a new dress, applying my make up and spraying myself in some new scent would fill my head.
The scent was very much part of my early years, even my mother's handbags would offer up its beautiful fragrance when they were opened as she always sprayed her hankies with perfume before putting them in amongst her purse and keys (oh how times have changed).




Strangely enough Lily of Valley is purported to strengthen the memory and in the language of flowers signifies the return of happiness. So it seems very apt that today on what would have been my mother's birthday (her name was Lily), I bring out my bottle, take a sniff and remember.