There and back again

Before I launch into a 'what I did on my holidays' blog post, just let me show you this

This is what the other-half prepared for his lunch recently.  It's cold shepherds pie and cold mushy peas on toast.  Yes really.  There are no words but I had to share the horror with you.

Moving on, I've just spent two glorious weeks in France.  Eygalieres to be precise, down in sunny Provence where the food was a great deal better than anything the other-half could dream up.

But by golly it was hot.  When we arrived it was 41 degrees C (that's 105 in Fahrenheit) and it rarely dipped below the mid to high 30s for the duration of my visit.  Given the mostly cold and rainy summer we're having in England it was a welcome, if sometimes draining, relief.

Anyway we had a good mooch around the area and it had a kabillion picturesque streets,

 

more lavender and Roman ruins than you could shake a scented centurion at,

fountains and hill-side towns,

markets and shops filled with fabulous food (no cold mushy peas in sight),

and seriously big fuck-off castles.

Sorry for the language but whilst I'm lowering the tone here's a picture from the house we stayed in.  Sis no 3 said it looked like a donkey's arse.  We somehow resisted the temptation to play pin the tail on the donkey.

We also visited the asylum where Vincent Van Gogh spent some time, which was a surprisingly uplifting and tranquil place.

We also went to the moon

Not really (had you fooled there didn't I).  This is the top of Mont Ventoux, which forms part of the Tour De France.  There were lots of cyclists around the day we drove up too, I've never seen so many enormous calf muscles in one place.  Here's the other-half and I posing in the clouds at the top

Naturally I tried to befriend any cat I came across.  But they were mostly rather aloof and haughty.  I won this one round though by sharing a ham baguette with him.

I have about 300 more photos but I will spare you and just finish with a picture of me, out of my tree on wine at the local Bastille Day celebrations looking like I'm attempting a Gallic shrug (I hadn't been on the abisnthe, honest).

Anyway, I'm back in rainy old blightly and this week has seen a return to reality with a rash of pre-planned hospital appointments, including a CT scan.  Yes it's CT time again and also time for the agonising wait for the results to find out what the sodding cancer is up to.  Here's hoping my current chemo is still keeping it in check.  Fingers crossed.