Day Six: there is always one day in any holiday where you just want to veg. Today was that day. There was reading and YouTube, naps and colouring and everyone stayed in their pjs until noon.
Then we threw off our tiredness and ventured out to the covered market to enjoy the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of an aughentic French market. We bought rotisserie chicken, bread, fresh produce and a few cakes, not to mention some excellent sweaters. The children said "merci" a lot, and we met a man from Bradford who chatted to them about his grandchildren.
The architecture is quite something round these parts. We are art deco fans, so a lot of the buildings make our hearts sing, referring back to the 20's and 30's when it was the playground of the rich and famous. The streets are named after Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; there are buildings named New Forest, Forest Hill and Wimbledon. Pierre de Coubertin, Father of the Modern Olympics, is responsible for a lot of the activity centres and sports halls, so you see his name a lot too. In some ways it's like staying in a model village.
We retreated to our bijou residence for lunch of chicken and salad and cakes, and continued to enjoy a relaxed afternoon whilst DH worked like a demon, poor chap. We ordered bread for tomorrow on the way to the pool, as we have done every day this week. I shall miss both when we go home to our pool-less, reception-less house!
The weather has turned now, still bright but far cooler, particularly after sunset, so coated and hat-ed, we went out for supper, abandoning one restaurant because nobody can eat an enjoyable meal with dance music playing at volume in the background. Fortunately, a quiet Italian provided what we needed- pasta for children, escalopes for the cheese-free DH and a white pizza laden with cheese and fish and vegetables, for me! DH had a gargantuan beer, so I drove us home to Bedfordshire, and our last day.