Disclaimer: Technically the title of this post should read; So Long Toulon, but I felt like jazzing it up a bit, with a rhyme. It’s not the best rhyme in the world, but how about you humor me and pretend like it is.
Driving to Toulon from Le Petit Village for the last time was indeed bittersweet (thankfully we had that delicious stop in Cassis to soften the heartbreak). So many memories had been made in that Côte d’Azur city in such a short time.
When I first moved to France, I never would have imagined that a cousin of mine would end up in France as well. And who would have thought that Gregory and Mr. London would fall in brotherly love at first sight and get on like a five alarm house on fire? Certainly not me, but they did and we were able to form our own little Bracken home-away-from-home. I loved the sweet, familial, comfort of it, we all did, even Fifty and Napoleon, the oddest doggy pair there ever was.
But of course with all of that closeness, we knew that our goodbyes would be dreadfully hard (one of the reasons that The Londons decided to tag along to Paris… to prolong the inevitable) so we did our best to make the most of that last weekend together squeezing in my most beloved Toulon things like sitting on the Mediterranean port sipping pre-match Mojitos, being silly during the Pilou Pilou, getting a cuddle from one of my favorite rugby players and going out for late night, post-match sushi.