The weather was good enough on Friday, and everybody just about got out of bed in time, to get to the beach, one of the plages sauvages, the open ones with no buildings and unsupervised bathing near Erquy.
We sat on the rocks and had a picnic,
people wrote their names in the sand,
and everyone, his father and grandfather being first in line, took a turn at burying Benjy,
until only his extremities remained above ground.
- Except for his sister who, wistful and remote, buried her own feet, perhaps pleading powerless mermaidhood in the case.
Here she is again with her mum. I was the only one who went into the sea for a swim, which was delicious, and for which I was pronounced 'hard' in admiring tones, though everyone (except Tom, who doesn't tend to) paddled and splashed about a bit. It was a bit chilly, we're having a cool summer after a hot spring, but really if you can't swim in the sea in Brittany in August you might as well give up and spend the afterlife in Centerparks.
Later we had a splendid meal at le Vivier, our favourite seafood joint, where the staff and surrounding diners beamed approvingly at Benjy's rolled 'r's as he pronounced caramel et fraise when ordering his ice cream, and at the scene of a pretty 14-year-old eating her first oyster from her grandfather's plate, which she did with great aplomb and which clearly brought out the inner Maurice Chevalier in one half of a handsome and tanned French couple of a certain age at the next table.
I'm sure we'll remember it well.
Molly has recovered well and seemed to be very much brightened up by her visitors, I think they really helped take her mind off feeling poorly, and when she went for her return visit to the vet at the end of the week she barely noticed, it was just another potentially interesting thing that was happening next.
They are sweethearts, it was lovely to have them. Now it's lovely to stretch back into all our space again, and only have to do four slices of toast at breakfast.
~~~
I've a feeling that my blogging muscles have got somewhat atrophied, and a fancy to do Three Beautiful Things again for a bit, to get back in the way of it. I'll start tomorrow.
10 comments:
Beach sand has magnetic qualities, inducing a desire to move it around.
Dear Moll, good day for any dog.
Great post Lucy.
Loved the lines about the first oyster. Good for her, she's braver than me!
It would seem a good time was had by all. I would have been in the sea and swimming in a flash!
What a lovely beach holiday. I do so miss the beach where my parents used to live year round and I didn't have to fight crowds to visit. Our seas off New Hampshire are quite chilly, too, making one's skin feel like salty oysters. There's a few weeks left in the summer, maybe I'll make it out to the beach yet.
i would have been in the sea with you, Lucy!
Yes! one must get buried (at least a bit) in the sand at least once in one's life.
Oh, this looks and sounds like so much fun! Thanks for sharing it.
Sympathizing with the atrophy!
What a lovely day.
Looking forward to your Three Beautiful Things :)
Lovely posting. Havent been to Brittany sincce Quimper several yrs ago. LOVE IT!
Such a lovely post. Everything about it makes me smile. The quiet 14 year old and her buried feet are worthy of a poem all on their own.
- alison
What is Three Beautiful Things?
;-)
Thanks all, it was a good day.
T - 3 Beautiful Things was invented by Clare, who's on the lower part of my blog list, and Plutarch/Joe Hyam does it too. You post about three things a day which, in the broadest sense, you find beautiful, or interesting, or noteworthy, or whatever. It's very good practice, in all sorts of ways, though I don't have to stamina or inclination to do it all the time. Just as well as I lack the necessary brevity... :~)
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