I’ve got nothing to blog about at the moment. Nothing. It’s not like there isn’t stuff going on here right now, there is. To be honest Le Petit Village can be a rather scandalous place and there’s usually some liasons dangereuses or petits scandales going down but it’s not stuff I can blog about per se no matter how interesting it is (if I ever get around to writing that book, I promise that all of the juicy bits will be in it).
And The Husband and I just had a nice extra long weekend down in Toulon and that was lovely but I didn’t want to blog about it because my last post was about the the time we were there before that. But truthfully that’s all that I’ve got for you guys at the moment.
So my cousin’s house in the Côte d’Azur (my holiday home as I like to call it) became the perfect escape for us refugees from The LPV. And now you know that it wasn’t only fun and rugby that was pushing us down south but that’s all I’m going to say about that.
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