This latest blog comes to you from France where we ( that is me, hubby, Angel 7, Delight 5, and Poppet 2) are holidaying at euro camp. So far so interesting. The kids are having a blast and staying up way to late which is super as it means they are extra whiney in the mornings.
Hubby has made a new friend, they like to stand at the family entertainment evenings and compare whinging wives and "how much they are in the dog house". This is down to our differing interpretations of five star camping. I'll be honest when it said stunning sea views on three sides I didn't factor in ( if you stand on the roof of your mobile home). However being able to lean out of the window and borrow our neighbours loo roll has been handy.
Hubby is not in the dog house at all, though the other poor bloke is and he has had to book his wife into a hotel, take her shopping and promise her a girly holiday with her mates to make up for it. I admit that on arrival I was slightly confused. I had imagined dirty dancing, I got Heidi Hi.
That being said there are water slides and a wonderfully camp guy who works in the shop and wears a silver glittery hat and tip toes everywhere holding his hands like a teapot.
But the highlight of the holiday so far has to be my encounter with Frances own Mr Smooth.
I had left hubby, Delight and Poppet in the affectionately named 'shed' for an afternoon nap out of the blazing sun and taken Angel, avec pink blowup ring, to the pool to meet her ' new best friend'. In fact it was a chance to read my book in peace as Angel is quite trust worthy and can play safely and sensibly in the water when unprovoked by Delight. She spots her friend and she's off. I am left to find a sun bed, I finally spot one in the middle of a group of lads. This does not bother me, perhaps it was the earlier vin rouge! I ask politely for the sun bed which is handed over without fuss and proceed to drag it around the pool until I find a happy spot where I can read my book and keep an eye on Angel. Feeling very pleased with myself I then try in vain to raise the back of the sun bed. It is not budging, I can feel a few people looking on but I persevere. A lovely English lady stops to try and help, but she cannot understand this complex plastic puzzle. And then I see him, striding towards me, his deep tan and muscles moving in unison with his spray on Lycra Speedos, hair swept back into a sleek white ponytail.
He stands beside me, making me all a flutter and feeling decidedly pale and wobbly. "Madame" he says in a heavily accented gruff voice, he motions to the sunbed.. "Oui" I squeak. He takes the sunbed firmly and gives it a single punch and it instantly snaps into obedience. He puts his hands up "voila" he says triumphantly! I nearly lean into the oily, moustachioed silver fox, taken in by his sheer confidence. He strolls off and I can almost hear his thoughts in his heavy French accent, "well done me, another Englishwoman rescued".
Also Poppet has become quite a bit more vocal, she is trying desperately to say new words. Hubby's new friend was talking to us the other night saying how sweet she was and that he had a son of similar age "fuck pit" she says and smiles. New friend isn't quite sure what to do with this. "She means pocket" I say quickly between snorts of stifled laughter. We do try not to encourage this from her but sometimes the child in us just breaks through!
We are off to the zoo today, there will no doubt be further encounters to regail you all with so, aurivoir for now.