Well, so much for blogging every day... it's just that some days between getting up and going to bed it's just all a blur. Today, however, we are on holiday. I know I know, we've been away a lot this year but this time it's just a holiday. No wedding to get dressed up for and keep the baby quiet through, no christening with schedules to juggle and a priest to impress... no deadlines or long drives or engagements, no plans... nothing to do but keep the spud occupied all day. Currently he is occupied by pushing the CAPS LOCK key on my laptop making this twice as difficult as it ought to be. He's most frustrated as the bed here in Biarritz is higher than the one at home and he can't get up on it at will. This means that he stands beside it pulling the covers off and shouting 'Aa! Aa! Aa!' as loud as he can and as close to my ear as he is to able strain his little vocal chords.
It is hot here this time. The last few times we've been here you would be excused for not believing that the place has been an holiday resort for several hundred years as it has been totally miserable however today it perches by the sea oozing heat and style and all sorts of things that me with my spare tyre, bad hair and northern skin are patently unable to keep up with.
At my age, the best blending-in look is to be about 30 pounds lighter and accessorised with a deeply wrinkled brown hide, a tiny bikini, massive sunglasses and an Hermes towel. Being a pale, blubbery wreck in a massive maternity swimsuit accessorised with a drooling baby is, I imagine, the depths of horror for most of these woman and so I try as best as I can to look nonchalant and inconspicuous which is difficult when one is wobbling down the sand after a whirling dervish shouting 'Charlie DON'T EAT THAT' at the top of one's lungs and tripping over multitudinous bikini waxes along the way. I can hear them thinking 'Ah, les Anglaises... zut alors tut tut tut' and wondering if the croissant they ate last week is still showing on their knees. Meanwhile I've caught the spud and return across the sand dripping ice-cream all over them and feeling smug about how much I am enjoying it and how little I care where it appears on my body - I mean, who can tell?