INTERMISSION IS OVER!

Four and a half months down with three and a half to go
Where has the time gone. One minute we are boarding the plane from Christchurch , and in the blink of an eye we are halfway through July
It's hard to believe we have been back from France for nearly a month
Our life for these last four weeks has been frantic, and frankly, really interesting
There is so much stuff to talk about so we will shortly thrash out a few blogs covering our wild ten days of birthday celebrations in London , plus our recent trips to Stockholm, Berlin and Amsterdam
However before we get onto that we thought we should take one parting shot at our Southern France experience. All the stuff that follows was written whilst we were kicking back in Fleurie, our last stop in France
This just about sums things up
We are in our final days in France and we both agree on two things. First and foremost it's been a great two months and we have loved every minute. That said we have been on the go all day and night for something like sixty days and we both concede that we are ready for next Mondays flight out of Lyon back to London. That will give us a week to recharge our batteries prior to the arrival of various friends for a week of partying.
Highlights? There are too many to list. We arrived in Bordeaux back in April full of expectations and we haven't been  disappointed.
Julia in particular loves the country and it's people and I have no doubt that given half a chance she would hang out in Northern Provence for an extended period.
I don't have the same feelings for the place as I find it too laid back and predictable. Ground Hog Day comes to mind.
Irrespective of location, breakfast is always mind numbingly  predictable.. Bread, croissants, cheese, ham, jams, coffee or black tea.
Off course you can live on the wild side and change the order of consumption however this is the stuff the locals have been consuming for the last five hundred years so why change.
This morning our hotel threw in a real curve ball in the form of boiled eggs.
What! Boiled eggs? Who eats boiled eggs for breakfast? Ah, I know, it's to satisfy the demands of that very vocal  English woman.
It's a scandal . 
We must discuss this further over morning tea whilst downing our obligatory daily intake of Rose, then carry on the discussion over today's three hour lunch, dream about same during our four hour afternoon break, recommence dialogue about this dangerous change of course during our pre dinner drinks (rose, what else?) and obviously talk the subject to death over our six course three hour dinner this evening.
Manger, this has to be the most overused word in the French language.
It starts at breakfast. What am I going to eat, what are you going to eat. Have we made the right choice. Will I enjoy this breakfast as much as previous breakfasts, and on and on.
Then it's down to mid morning drinks. First up has to be a post match analysis of the breakfast eating experience. It was good for me. Was it equally good for you. How do you feel now that we are only ninety minutes away from lunch. And talking about lunch, what do you feel like today. The sun is shining, it's twenty six degrees with a five knot wind from the south east. Bearing in mind these conditions I feel the following suggestions for lunch might be appropriate. Then again these are just my initial thoughts. We don't have to rush this decision. After all we have a further hour and a half before we need to place an order.
Then onto lunch. Kiss, kiss, kiss (must be Parisians, Rose all round, now let's get serious about ordering food. All of us have been thinking of nothing else for these past three hours. We don't want to make a mistake . Right, let's risk all and order the same menu we have ordered every day for the last twenty five years. I hope it lives up to expectation . Either way we can progress this food discussion as we eat, then follow up with a post lunch analysis .
Enough about food, it's time for a lenghty sleep, there's nothing else to do at this time of day as all the shops and businesses close for the afternoon.
Five o'clock, time to get cracking.
Down to the bar for more Rose , wait for dinner mates to arrive and commence discussions over what we might order this evening.
Manger, manger, manger...
At this stage I make the decision to save myself the cost of any future psycho bills , quietly exit the bar, wander into a nearby vineyard , and promptly shoot myself.

Manger= to eat