While not quite as Persuaders as it could have been, the F-C summer getaway was very nice, apart from heat rash, sitting in the shade covered in factor 50 and temparatures of about 34 degrees. Still, lovely views across the mountains from the lavender-fringed infinity pool, when it wasn't too hot to plunge in.
Mrs F-C and I have both decided once and for all that we're really not good in the heat and so it's Scandinavia all the way from now on. I burn so easily. As a child in a family of tan-at-the-drop-of-a-hat sunworshippers, holidays were never much fun for me until I begged my parents to take me to to Holland in 1980. Even though we still managed to find a beach there, that was much more my kind of holiday. I've never looked back.
Even Paris was humid as hell, but we had a super hotel, very well appointed in gorgeous St Germain and lived the Left Bank life to the full. Where Do You Go To My Lovely was in the air at every turn, and Pop A Paris was never off the ipod. I do like Paris. I could happily live there - for a while. It's so civilised and so big. I much prefer the city to the country.
So now it's back to the old routine. I got a bit of a disappointment while away, over something that's been bubbling under for quite some time, but nothing personal and nothing that I can't put me behind me now.
Here's the rest of the year.
Are you well?
