I’m home from a lovely relaxing few weeks in the Dordogne and now have to self isolate for two weeks. TWO WEEKS when they’ve only had one confirmed case in the local area where I was staying. What a blow this one step forward, three steps back is for the whole tourism industry. It’s so heavy handed and it’s pissed the French off so much that they are going to make us do the same thing if we go there any minute now – which seems a bit tit-for-tat childish to me. The quarantine system appears to be very hit and miss. I dutifully filled in the online Government form, 48 hours before leaving France, passing on all my personal details and nobody was remotely interested at passport control where I was told that the downloaded document would be scanned. Is it already linked to the passport? How come the ones who didn’t bother to fill it in were able to sail through, confident in the knowledge that they can now immediately get out and about because no one is going to phone them or knock on their door?
So, having ventured out of my house pre quarantine rules to France with slight trepidation, I found that bien sûr, escaping my four walls for a minute was a good plan. Even if wearing a mask is horrid. You had to wear a mask in crowded areas, like during the markets, but not if you were sitting down, right next to all the crowds. Everyone there seemed to be more accepting of them somehow, judging by the numbers of people back in the UK not bothering to wear them on public transport. I don’t understand why I feel like I can’t breath, so was pleased to be just getting on a flight for an hour, rather than going to Hong Kong or New Zealand. Perhaps then the trick would be to keep eating and drinking for the whole 24 hour flight.
However, à mon retour, I’m not so sure. I have returned to high drama with the kids, a slightly broken house, dead plants, shit weather, furious neighbours (one good reason for hiding out for a few weeks), a demanding cat, I’m still furloughed and I can’t even stomp any of it out during a short local walk. I can’t leave my house at all, so I’m pretty sure my holiday karma will have abandoned me by the end of the month. The worst thing is that I can’t even show my tan off to anyone. What’s the point of a holiday if you can’t even do that? Although thankfully I don’t have to show off my latest croissant et beaucoup de vin blanc et fromage baby stomach either. Which clearly is only going to get larger as I can’t exercise and will be depressed so will have to continue to drink my way through it – my only hope is that because I’m going to have to rely on my children to go and buy my food I will probably starve to death.
Anyway, in an effort to remind myself how special it was to get away and be in glorious weather and a different space, I’m going to share some photos of delightful French markets, their wonderfully flavoursome products and the exquisite views.
The local area is full of either grapes or sunflowers as far as the eye can see:-
The markets kept their sense of humour with the masked couchon:-
And this is another reason why I’ve put on a stone…just look at that cheese:-
More to follow in small doses….I don’t want to upset myself or anyone else….and I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, so be warned!
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