One thing that always becomes shockingly apparent on holiday is that my love of France knows no bounds. Like, for real there is no metaphorical or literal boundary to my enthusiasm, gusto and gratitude for everything French. I mean, it might be something to do with them producing more than 246 varieties of cheese, or their attitude to wine that can be summed up simply as ‘...want some?’, but nothing in the world makes me happier than a warm summer evening in the south of france (except, perhaps, picking up chocolate eggs in tesco for half the price following easter cos y'know - the only thing better than cadburys in egg-form is half price cardburys in egg-form. Everyone knows that).
Other posts from this babe of a hol can be found here and here.
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