Hooray, finally we are back in…
Can you guess where we are yet? A chocolate crocodile? A shameless abundance of cigarettes? What kind of crazy people could conjure such fresh japery…?
Hmm, and cheese shaped like breasts you say… Oh, honestly. Will this help?
Yes! That's right! A sunny spring day in Crawley. Scrubs up well, doesn't it?
We went to the family day at Longchamp race course for a picnic on Sunday with some very good friends.
Our horse won with considerable ease (shown in exhibit A, above), and we started mapping out our next holiday in Barbados, but it was then disqualified for some arcane Frenchy transgression which we never quite fathomed and the 'computer says no' woman behind the counter refused to explain. Cue an outburst of impotent rage familiar to all who have had dealings with French people behind glass, as well as some dark thoughts prompted by a visit with the kids the next day to the Conciergerie.
It wasn't the wretched horse's fault, of course, he did his best, but I did rather wonder if we'd all have been better off if the entire field had bypassed the whole 'running round in circles with a gaily dressed midget on their back' stage, and gone directly to this shop in the Poncelet market.