Friday, 17 August 2012

French holiday love

A few last snaps of our French holiday, the memory of which is now fading fast.

As a family, we went to France most years for childhood holidays. Each time we return I recall those same differences that thrilled me as a child...

The unfamiliarly flavoured syrups in tins - grenadine, menthe, citron.
Disbelief at driving past swimming pool shops with their enormous liners on display.
Beautiful handwritten signs - do all French schoolchildren learn the same elaborate calligraphy?
The heat of a car journey followed by the relief at running from car to pool and diving straight in.
Strips of sweets sold on the ferry, that only added to our excitement and inability to sleep.
The creak of antique shutters.
Those little change saucers that are a feature of all shops but appear unused by all but the very ancient.
The patisserie and boulangerie - like nothing I'd ever seen in British shops.

All this is evoked, like a spell, whenever I set food on gallic soil. Je suis une Francophile and proud.


It'll be a while before we holiday across the channel again, which has reminded me it's time to think closer to home - Devon holidays I think.  
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