The person with the shortest journey is always the last one to arrive. I ran into Charles De Gaulle airport to find my sisters, their partners, and their children had already arrived. I hugged my sister Briony and panicked, "Is she pregnant? Does she just need to do some sit-ups? What if I ask and she's not? DILEMMA!" Discretion is the better part of valour, so I kept quiet. Happily, it turns out she is expecting her second child in January (Thank goodness I didn't buy her that bottle of wine for her birthday).
Cars were rented and we set off for the holiday house to meet the rest of the tribe. I have lots of sun-soaked memories of family holidays with my cousins in France from my childhood, but now the family has expanded to include, husbands, boyfriends and children. The distance people travel to get there has also changed, as seen by my
Uncle's plan of attack.
The final troops will arrive tomorrow. Today is just for sitting in the garden and recovering from jet lag. And, of course, eating.
No comments:
Post a Comment