memory lane

Last week Papa Hew came out to visit. The last time he was here was 1982. So for nostalgia sake we went back to St. Emilion.

First stop on Memory Lane, The Wall.
At least i know where i got my moody teenager genes from..

And 29 years later..

Here is my token youth shot for 2042. How horrific does that sound?

Second stop, Memory Lane

Same courtyard, different tree!?

Third stop on memory lane.

The very cute and just a little bit ancient, Logis de la Cadène. It's been here since 1951 and still only sells the one wine, Saint Emilion Grand cru "Château La Mariotte". The very same that Papa & Mama Hew drank in 1982. 

And so of course we took a nice tourist photo to send to mum

We headed a bit further afield for lunch as we were after something a bit more low key and i wanted a menu that involved a little less pâté. Not to mention the huge (steak) dinner plans at L'Entrecôte.

Stumbled across this little secret cobbled path. And at the end of every secret cobbled path there is (almost) always a secret cobbled courtyard with a winebar! (although i might have just made that up)

Now i'm no wine connossieur, to be honest i'm usually a White Zinfandel kinda gal. But oh lordy was this wine fabulous. Sadly i can't remember the name, not because it wasn't fabulous (it was) but because i'm a bit of a dimwit. Although i can tell you that it was made from grapes and came from St. Emilion. What more do you need to know?

Final stop on Memory Lane.

Vue de la 'tour du Roi'

The church tower is still there. Thankfully, the shorts are not.

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al fresco dining

Life goal: Live somewhere with a) a balcony and b) a climate for al fresco dining.

Add a glass of sangria (or three) and a sunset and i'm happy as Larry.

Bottoms up.

Beautiful Alice being beautiful

Channeling our inner Jamie Oliver with this rustic spread. 

Beautiful Jess showing off our handiwork:
Chorizo, courgette, mushroom, tabula & feta stuffed bell peppers. Not to mention Alice's infamous pesto dressing. Nutritious and delicious!

You know those moments when you're so impressed by what you made for tea you feel the need to have a photo taken with it? This would be one of those times.

Peach Bellinis

Santé

Before Jess decided her Bellini would look better on the floor..

Fish pout

Me = Larry!

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high and dry

In the UK bank holidays roll over to the following monday. Here they stay stuck in the middle of the week and you faire le pont (build a bridge) until the weekend. 

Voilà. 

Five day holiday. 

Savvy Frenchies.

So we spent a few days at the boathouse that looks like a boat and, in keeping with the nautical theme, went aboard several boats.

Still as still water.

Boat N°1: The Speedboat

Feeling like James Bond (albeit bondgirl-less and wearing a borrowed fleece)

13h00

No eating cold baked beans out of a tin for lunch in this country.

And then back out on the water for some afternoon wind.

This is Vincent, leading the regatta. A little too easily we thought. So we acted as a moving buoy. To test his seamanship. He still won!

Boat N°2: The Yacht

This boat's called Cooliko, designed and built by Monsieur himself. Pretttyy cool huh! 

converse + background = annual holiday photo

All in a days work!

*UPDATE: picture of the boathouse that looks like a boat

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we went to the beach

We went to the beach.

Cap Ferret.

Only €5/2hr on the bus. What we saved in centimes, we made up for emotionally. Certain as the sun that we were going to die on that bus. 

Thankfully, we did not. (if this was britain, i would write a complaint letter)

Alive to tell the tale, this, ladies and gentlemen, is Europe's biggest sand dune.

Olivia the Brave

Marina the Bond Girl.

El the Bombshell.

Beautiful Alice.

And me. The absolute Brit. Taking photos of the sea.

Such as this one.

And this one.

Fabulous.

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a muggy day

Today was a muggy day. One of those days where you just don't quite know what to do with yourself.

After a bit of aimless wandering, we ended up in an antiques market.

*muggy photos for effect

We decided to read some old love letters/postcards to give the old heartstrings a tug.

Now three things i was told:

1. France is the country of romance.

2. French is the language of love.

3. Frenchmen are big into their romantic declarations of amour.

So i was expecting big things. Of the tear jerking nature.

Alas, no.

There can't have been more than a handful of words on each.

The language of love needs few words ey!?

The beautiful Alice

And the beautiful Jess

With her head in the clouds books

13h00 and the stall owners sit down for their lunch/bbq.

So we scouted out the wine stall. Naturally.

Anddddd then moved on to the next one.

Us girls gotta keep refreshed.

Papa Hew often has words of wisdom. Such as "always carry a spare camera battery on you". I didn't. And at this point by battery died.

A bientôt!

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