Sundays, in Ami’s case, are for swimming. And more swimming. Followed by some swimming, and then a quick dip in the pool before going swimming. You get the picture.
While all this was going on, Kev popped out in the bus to grab some more milk.
So the morning was taken up with lots of general mucking about, not doing much, and then having a very long lunchtime.
In the lounge somewhere we’d seen a flyer for a local “Fête du Blé” at nearby Pleudihen, which sounded a lark, even if we did have no idea what “blé” was until we got there.
It turns out that it’s wheat. So we’d actually gone to an olde-worlde celebration of everything generally wheat-based. There were some fantastic old bits of farm equipment on show, some steam, some horse-powered, some manual, and all operated by geezers who looked like they’d been there the first time around, as it were. Not that this is a bad thing.
Lots of people were also dressed up in traditional clothes and there was a general air of dancing and merriment. And it was sunny. One of the best days of the fortnight to be honest, so a fine afternoon for partaking of a few glasses of hand-drawn cidre, munching a few locally made sausages, and pretending we weren’t English.
Despite the heat the kids seemed to enjoy it, especially Izzy who was rather engaged with the country dancing displays, but not so much with the noisy old farm equipment. More dancing, Vicar?
After all that we were all feeling a bit hot and bothered, so we scooted off to Dinan and grabbed a table at a little cafe down by the river for some well-earned dinner. It was fairly expensive but quite good, as I remember.
When we got home again it was still quite early, so there was time for Ami to have just one more dip in the pool. We all went this time to cool off a bit.
We got the girls to bed fairly early and passed the rest of the evening with, as ever, some local wine.