‘Just got in from the windy city, the windy city is mighty pretty…’ ‘Wait, what?’ I hear you say! ‘But – the title? I thought this was about Provence, not Chicago?!’ And you would be right. Where you would be wrong is in thinking (as I did) that Provence is an invariably balmy, bright and sunny place. No, friends, it is a place where the wind is ever-ready to turn you into a flustered knicker-flasher. It is a place where you take a pedalo out for a romantic hour on a lake and end up pedalling for your life in the midst of a terrifying thunderstorm, convinced you are soon going to be the next entry in the Darwin Awards for undignified demise. It is not, as it turns out, the best place for lightweight lawn sundresses.
Which is all I’d packed. Continue reading
If you’d seen me this weekend you might’ve been forgiven for thinking I’d won the Euromillions. (Which was never going to happen – b*stard lucky dip gave me 18, 19 and 20 in last Friday’s numbers.) Nope, I was being chauffeured across the most scenic drives of the west country in a prototype McLaren 675LT supercar for free. #Princess! Continue reading