Back in France

Life in Frogland is hardish to come back to this time. A week in springing England with quiet skies, packed full of visits to places rather than people made me almost, almost, want to go back to Blighty.

Hubs and I were taking my in-laws on their first (and last?) visit to England, so, after deciding that No, I couldn't take them to the Lakes, Cambridge and London in 6 days as well as dropping off the kids in Berkshire and turning up at my Nan's 100th in Hastings (yes 100th... it runs in the family), I slimmed down the tour to Henley, London, the Cotswolds, Warwick Castle and Oxford, which was pretty good going anyway.

What I loved this time round, apart from Steak 'n Ale pies, mash and peas and real pints of ale, was that the people we met everywhere were just so, well, nice. Friendly, smiling. Of course the weather was fantastic. And there were no planes, so there was a kind of sense of pulling together emergency about the place. My Nan always said the English were at their best together during war time... Anyway, even the policemen opposite Buckingham Palace ask people to get down from their vantage points on the statue nicely "Sorry, you going to have to get down from there. Sorry, you can't stay up there."

And people use their indicators in their cars to show where they want to go. And then, if they're indicating right, they actually TURN RIGHT... Well, if you live in France, you'll know what I mean. And then there are all those beautiful trees around in the south of England and the magnolias were simply divine. The only down side was having to speak French most of the time and not being able to fit in my usual tour of the charity shops for second hand books. Oh well, next time.

This may sound like a moan. And of course it shouldn't be, because here I am, in my beautiful wooden house in sunny Brittany, looking out over a freshly ploughed field with the birds singing in the orchard, the apple blossom peeping through the leaves. But where are the ancient oaks? Where are the mixed forests and the hedgerows? Gone, is the answer, removed for farming purposes. Stop moaning, woman. Go back to England if it's that bad.

Well, no, I couldn't possibly do that. Because before I left England the planes started, we got caught in traffic jams, and, well, we simply couldn't afford it!