A few days after I got home, Gemma, Chris and Elliott arrived; they’d booked a chalet on a camp site just a 5 minute walk from the beach at Capbreton. Kieran picked them up from the airport, then we all headed to the campsite.
To say the accommodation was disappointing would be something of an understatement; supposedly for 4 people, it was ridiculously small and had no cot or any means of making up Elliott’s bottles. The bathroom was about the same size as the one in our campervan and the fridge minute.
Gemma is very like my mother – pretty scary when upset, and as she headed to the reception, Chris remarked to me that he wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of the tongue lashing she was about to deliver. Sure enough, when she got back, it was with the promise of an upgrade; they’d be moved to a chalet for 6, with aircon, but it was only available till Friday morning. They’d come to mine for the last couple of days.
Once settled, things improved. We were in the middle of a heatwave, with temperatures of up to 40°C, so they spent a lot of time on the beach or in the pool, hired bikes to explore the area and Chris was able to hire a surfboard. Kieran and his kids spent most days and a couple of nights there, making the most of the extra bedroom and I went over most days too, feeling quite intrepid as I joined the mass of other drivers, crawling our way through the overcrowded streets, avoiding the thousands of pedestrians and cyclists who, having priority, simply step or ride out across the roads without even a glance to see if the way is clear, many of the cyclists not even wearing helmets! Happily I got through the week without mowing anyone down, which felt like a win.
Their visit coincided with the Dax fête; at 40° it was just too hot for me, so I stayed home, though a rummage through my fabric boxes supplied enough red fabric for a neckerchief for each of them, to wear with whatever white clothing they had; virtually everyone wears red and white for the fête. I played taxi driver and when they’d had enough, all six of them piled into my little car for the ride home, Kieran and Gemma in the boot; they’d had a great day.
Another hot afternoon we went to the air conditioned bowling alley, just down the road from me. After knocking down 9 pins with my first ball, I thought it was easy, but then struggled to hit anything at all and was soundly beaten, even by Arthur and Emily, while Chris and Kieran battled for the winner’s spot. A game of pool, rides on the motorbike game for the kids and everyone was happy.
It was lovely to spend time with Gemma and Chris, but for me the best part was getting to know Elliott, who was adorable and who made so much progress in the few short weeks, starting to crawl while in England and pulling himself upright before he left. He loves books and music; whenever he was grumpy in the car, all we had to do was sing to him to restore his smile. He adored Arthur and Emily, his little face lighting up with a smile as soon as he saw them.
And then they were gone. For a few days my apartment had been bursting with noise, toys and laughter, with quilts and cushions all over the floor to prevent Elliott bumping his head on hard surfaces. Now it was time to clean up and survive the few days of post holiday blues till life got back to normal.
