We’ve had a lovely weekend. Yesterday wandering around IKEA (a rather strange Swedish habit) and Montpellier. Montpellier is a fantastic city; it always seems to be sunny and there is lots to do. The only glitch was trying to visit the newly re-vamped Musee Fabre. The region has spent four years and around £50 million doing it up, but sadly didn’t get the computers working so the queue was longer than the one we endured to get through Miami airport in December. What’s wrong with a system where you pay your money, they give you a ticket and you move on? It works for the Louvre. Needless to say we gave up waiting and left. Olivia started weeping. Amazing – I have seen children weep at the thought of going into a museum, but never not going into one.
Today we visited the idyllic village of Roquebrun about half an hour from home where they hold an annual Mimosa fete. This involves lots of people wearing Mimosa and buying things from homely-looking stalls. On the way home we stop for a walk and come across some cows and horses roaming around a vineyard which the children immediately want to bring home.
My husband and I agree that on a scale of lovely weekends this one is right up there. The children were sweet, the sun was shining and IKEA even had Dill-flavoured crisps. There is only one problem: my feet. I don’t know why I insist on wearing high-heeled boots at all times. They are certainly not the most practical things to wear while stomping over fields, especially as at one stage I had to leap over a ditch to avoid a cow who was, as Bea put “looking quite grumpy.”
“It’s only an old cow,” laughed my husband. Like he would never try to avoid something looking grumpy with two great big horns pointing in his general direction?
I have just received an email from my old friend Kilks. She tells me she wears pyjamas at all times. “I think they are very clever the way they can be worn at night, through into the morning and school run, through cups of tea and very important site meetings with builders, through lunch and then afternoon pick up – no point changing for tea as will just get childrens food all over clothes – then may as well keep them on for bath time and story time through into my supper time – then before you know it it is bed time again – practical dressing I call it.”
I might have to try it, slippers have got to be better than five-inch suede boots when it comes to escaping random farm animals.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007