We're back in S.W. France again! It feels good to be home again, Bruno and Tina's tails wagging in unison like windscreen wipers. The house feels a little musty, but we've flung open the volets and windows, the forsythia bushes are a riot of yellow, and we can see bright blue between the clouds. Summer's coming at last.
The holiday's made me feel a bit strange: a re-run of my past life. My brother and I re-visited the house we grew up in. Everything looked so tiny. We walked around Perry Hall Park, where I used to play, feeling sad that the old canteen where our mother used to work was no longer there - burnt down in an arson attack years ago. At least the old oak tree was still there, under which I broke my arm doing a cartwheel fifty years ago. We enjoyed going to Villa Park again, cheering wildly when our team scored, even if I sadly now understand the vernacular all around me!
It was lovely to chat to old friends and hug close family, but...... How to compare the two countries? The Paris and London roads are both chockablock and maddeningly impossible to navigate around: Paris with its multitude of E road numbers - is it the E15, E05 or A3?? How can it be all 3? What I've got to do now is relax chez-nous and work out in my own mind where I feel happiest. I certainly can't do without the sunshine and bright blue skies, so perhaps I've already made up my mind. Time will tell.