AM, excited at the prospect of showing off our new home, leapt to the role of tour guide with relish, preparing the borrowed apartment we had organised for them with fresh bedding and towels, stocking the kitchen with milk and brioche and even some of our precious Yorkshire Tea bags. We met them at the airport (I love an airport meeting, me) in the beast of a van just in case they couldn’t navigate the 10 km between there and the centre of town. A day was planned up the mountains (come rain or shine), dinner in our favourite restaurant, an outing to San Sebastian and the all-important trip to the Sunday food market. Not forgetting the visit to the nearby bar where it is accepted (nay, encouraged) to eat foie gras and drink white wine at 10am. Good Times. There’s something about seeing your surroundings through new eyes that makes you remember (not that we’d really forgotten) what drew you to it in the first place.
NB. Just in case no-one had noticed, I happen to think that Biarritz and South West France ROCKS.
After 4 days of rain and activity, it was time for them to board their flight back to the UK. We trotted home and sank into the sofa, exhausted at so much excitement in comparison to our normally sedentary lifestyle and (shock horror) a few late nights. Sadly for them, the sun came out not long after we waved them off and we have been basking in a mini heat wave ever since. I was in my bikini at the beach not two days ago.
Must dash. AM is preparing gruyere topped croutons for his homemade French onion soup. I feel sure he’s moments away from buying a beret.