It’s a paradox that England, which has an established Church with the monarch as its head, has very few religious holidays and secular France has numerous. So this weekend I spent yesterday celebrating at a beachside restaurant at Blainville Sur Mer having come to France with my two little girls ahead of my husband for moving preparations.
I was apprehensive, to say the least, about travelling on my own for a six hour ferry journey with a four year old and a one year old, but the crossing was smooth and I was too occupied with them to notice the time. This was largely due to my looking up the wind/swell predictions and changing my ticket to coincide with the best crossing. The water was smooth and none of us were seasick – thank God!
The Shack, as we call it, has a beachside location and it markets itself as ‘possibly the worst restaurant in the world!’. And they say the French aren’t humerous! Perhaps this is a symbol of the difference between Paris and the real France – a self-deprecating sense of humour!
The furniture is a mismatch of old, worn pieces that have real character to them and they sit either in the shabby building with a wood fire for cooking, or on the golden sands outside.
At lunchtime, with the tides out, you can see an expanse of land vacated by the sea and boats dot the distant horizon. There is something about eating food prepared by someone else whilst wriggling your toes in the sand – sublime!
We often have the saucisson et frites – I can not find a similar style sausage in the supermarkets. They’re deliciously juicy and meaty! Tant mieux!
A lovely break from the list of things to do in the week ahead to prepare ourselves for our move to France in August. It’s surreal to think that this is our last holiday here and that by the end of summer we should be, please God, living here!