If there’s anything that reaffirms ‘family values’, it’s a naturist holiday. It crosses generations, and people aren’t compartmentalised as they are in everyday society. It becomes a case of getting into conversation with others, readily and easily, and making new friends or at least spending enjoyable time with others under a scorching sun.
Hats, to protect the top of the head, seem to be the order of the day today (I’m more inclined to a bandana for this purpose, but it doesn’t sit too well or re-size on my hair, so I’ve joined the hat brigade, just for today).
And on my wanderings today, I came across a naked man on a bicycle. Not the first time I’ve seen him, he’s resident where I go, but it reminded me to get my bicycle out and pedal around Nudity Where Art Thou?, carefully keeping to the shade provided by the new, back streets under construction at the back of the Hotel du Jardin. I’ve told Pookes to not encourage wolf-whistles from the construction site, as she tends to go (is!) feminist and will probably stage a one woman sit-in at their canteen. And you know construction workers and tea! No tea, no work (at least in Britain).
Finally, I moved onto the beach -rug rats and other half not photographed- where I fell into conversation with an elderly French woman. I’ve not done French since I was at school, so it was the most abject grammar ever, but she seemed to understand, and also kept it simple so I could understand her French.
Back at the apartment now to fix us some late, late lunch. Will probably squeeze another post in when the nippers are in bed. 🙂