summer melt

So, it’s been hot. And if it’s not the heatwave, the hezbollah or Zidane’s headbutt it’s not news. And heat means a couple of major changes here in France – first is the transformation of old people into sort of geriatric houseplants (‘have you misted Madame Tartempion yet this morning?’), the second being the bone melting epidemic amongst small dogs transforming them into a canine rag mutts.

This weekend past was July the 14th, which, like most historical celebrations in any society around the world, means a chance to drink more alcohol. I went to some northern beaches in the pas de calais region, soaked up the faux tudor and tacky souvenir shops, watched royalled pampered pooches being ported around and witnessed some nightmarish toddlers face meets chocolate icecream incidents.

I accidentally went on a 50km bike ride – mostly because I didn’t know how far I was meant to be going (distances on tourist maps with oversized local attraction icons are larger than they appear), went to a bird wetland sanctuary, and went to Aqualud in Le Touquet (where I spent 3 hours thinking…’I paid HOW MUCH for this??)

Otherwise I just get the train back and forth to work everyday and spent 35 hours a week contributing to that overly complicated administrative system that the expats all violently hate. Bureaucracy is, after all, a French philosophy.