Hello from sunny St Tropez! Just for you to be a bit jealous (because that’s what I want you to be) here is a picture:
Oh, and there is a lovely post from me on Nazima (or @workinglonmummy) ‘s blog on how to bake panettone. I am actually a bit jealous because hers look better than mine but never mind. Life can be unfair…You can read it here.
I have a confession to make: I feel more and more British. For starters, I rented a car in Nice to drive to St Tropez and, after three months of operating a Chelsea tractor in London I felt a bit lost. You wouldn’t believe how fast the French are driving on the motorway. Scary. I miss my Chelsea tractor (yes, I have just written this), my rented Citroen is nice but not quite the same. What exactly is happening to me?
Anyway, this morning when I left for the airport (at the crack of dawn and I am not a morning person) it was freezing in London. I had at least five different layers on me, not to mention a hat, a scarf and the mandatory gloves. And there it was: my British neighbour was going for a run in his T-shirt and short pants. How does he do it? Mind you, he wasn’t the only one: on the train to Gatwick airport, most Brits had no coats when all continental Europeans were wrapped up tightly in different layers. You could tell who was British just by looking at whether he/she had a coat. And, to make matters even worse, I saw a guy in his flip-flops. I felt cold just looking at him (no coat + flip flops + -2 celsius = quintessentually British).
That’s when it dawned on me: I can’t be 100% British. I will always need to wrap up when I am cold. It must be in my genes. Tough. I’d better accept it and get on with my life.
But it got worse: at 7am on the train a group of British girls (they looked 18/20-ish) sitting in my coach started to drink some white wine. They were celebrating a birthday apparently (and starting early – or finishing late, depending on how you look at it). At the airport, they sat at the Baileys stand and drank again. I hadn’t even had my breakfast. Amazing. How do they do it? Come to think of it, maybe you need the booze to keep you warm? It makes sense, doesn’t it?
Don’t understand me the wrong way, the whole episode was very civilised, they were very polite and not too noisy, and nobody made any comments.
I am starting to believe that some things will always be beyond me. What are your views? What am I missing?
Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London