I'll be back

Oh yes, Oh yes, Oh yes. I had made a terrible mistake. There before me, elegantly descending from the third bus was my sweet, delightful, charming, lovely, beautiful younger sister. A Francophile before I could say ‘bêtise’. A perfectly fluent francophone. She who has been blackguarded by the English for supporting the cheese eating surrender monkeys. She who has courageously fought it out on their territory with the perfidious nation while I cowardly repaired to France. She who has come to France for two weeks rest and recuperation from the dire and stressful life of the UK. She, whose food is adulterated (how can she tell?). Who buys all her clothes in France to avoid the awful colours and sack appearance of UK garments.

Yes the truth is I had made a terrible mistake. The trouble makers were arriving two days later. I would be back, but I had gained two valuable days to plan my moves.

We were both completely stressed out. We retired to Montlouis. A charming small town on the opposing bank of the Loire to Vouvray. The wine is similar but slightly lighter. We enjoyed two leisurely glasses as the running water of the spring calmed our nerves.