After almost an entire days travelling time, an attempt to go ‘around’an accident that meant an extra hour in the car (oh, the confidence of my man, even in a foreign country), multiple toll roads without having any local currency and a magnificent car poo incident that required a stop on the side of the Autoroute, where they drive 130km an hour in the slow lane, that pushed the boundaries of 'We’re doing ok' we arrived at bedtime. In broad daylight, in a village with about ten houses Madame Lunel was waiting to hand us a key and tell us in her beautiful French how everything works. We smiled and nodded and then when she'd left discovered she'd forgotten to tell us how to turn the hot water on.
The house is amazing. There are three storeys, stone floors, timber floors, small beautiful doors and stairs everywhere. There are hidey holes that the kids find oh so exciting and a fire place in every room. Some of them have been covered, others are huge and magnificent (and frightening for a mama of small children so probably won’t be lit whilst we are here despite the lack of summer temperatures). There are mirrors and French posters and hats and books, places to sit or lounge and desks for writing.
There is a well in the back yard and a view down over the fields. The next village has a small shop/bar/cafe with friendly owners who Dada has befriended, it's only a kilometre away so a nice walk past the corn fields and many bulls who stare intimidatingly.
With the weather not looking as summery as we might’ve liked we’re thinking that maybe the kids may learn a little French from watching the French DVDs. Maybe not.
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