A Tinderella Abroad

Aaaahhhh the excitement of France, holiday, fending for self in the Wild. Have already been for a pre-breakfast swim after the best night of sleeping that I can remember. Feeling relaxed, calm and happy I sit down to write to you.
The accommodation that was described as “rustic” is palatial. My room is the size of my flat at home and contains a double bed, a piano, a writing desk that looks out over the grounds of the manor house, loads of cupboard and wardrobe space, a bathroom with a bath. The ceiling is very high, the wallpaper features hummingbirds. It is by far the best room I’ve ever stayed in. And it’s all mine for a week.
Was wondering whether #tinder would throw up a load of French chaps for my delectation and lo and behold here they are already. And they must have been checking me out overnight because when I open the app this morning and start playing an enormous number of matches occurs. They are tasty these French chaps. Extremely hot and stylish and know how to present themselves: wearing suits, drinking wine out of huge glasses. They look suave and sophisticated in a way that the English chaps just don’t.
But of course they do, I remind myself. Here, in their natural environment they are glossy, self-assured and exotic. Pluck one from his farm, vineyard or cheese shop and take him back to London and he won’t be so alluring.
I could stay here though, I think. I could meet up with Remi or Yves or Jean-Pierre and wow him with my curves RP English accent and my ability to hold my drink and he would fall in love with me and then I could just stay here and run my own vineyard – how hard can it be – and then I would have something fulfilling to do with my life.
First of all I need to brush up my French – I achieved an A* in my GCSE many years ago but I’m a bit rusty now. Once I’m fluent again I must get a bit of writing under my belt, since this is meant to be a Writing Retreat. Also I have to behave in a mentally normal way, or I will be sent home. So plenty of things to work on before meeting the French vineyard owner of my dreams, taking possession of my Chateau and producing my award-winning Wines.
And as I write this I’m bursting with happiness that I’m physically and mentally well enough to be away for a few days without my parentals, even if they did drop me here and they’re picking me up in five days. There are beech martens and owls and bats and I can hear the river.
Happy Sunday everyone!


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