Tom and Isobel on the beach at Val-André.
The exquisite and delightful Iso is ever more so now she is pregnant. I'd heard tell this happened sometimes but have to say I'd never really witnessed it before.
As she was at a loose end on her birthday, we met her in Lamballe, where Tom observed this feral terrapin sunning itself for all to see on a rock in the Gouessant river.
Then we went out to Val-Andrè for lunch. Moules-frites, cider for me, rosé for Tom, but, alas, just plain water for Iso.
Then the walk on the beach. Not too many people; when there aren't too many, they're always more interesting, out-of-season types, I think.
Pretty little sailboats,
washed-up jellyfish ( Tom, tender-hearted even to invertebrates, except the clams he ate for lunch, put this crystalline entity back in the sea after I'd photographed it)
and yin-yang dogs.
And the good thing is, since Isobel's job is playing the ingénue in the hilariously brilliant, Edinburgh festival prize-winning, Fiat Lux mime company, her doctor has rather frowned upon her travelling long and wearisome distances, staying in hot and sticky places in uncomfortable hotels, throwing herself energetically off high platforms and other props, and generally jumping about as she does, so has signed her off work for somewhat longer than ordinary maternity leave, and she will therefore be at a loose end much more often over the summer, while Pascal, her other half, must continue to ply his trade about the world disguised as a gauche fisherman or pink-clad middle-aged lady. So that means we'll see Iso more often.