We're off to the South of France on Friday, heading for Cathar territory in the Perpignan region. This will keep Spouse happy as he is fascinated by the story of Cathar persecutions by the French in the 11th/12th centuries and all the nutty Grail legend stuff about the region. (me too and if you are can I recommend my friend Elizabeth Chadwick's brilliant Daughters of the Grail which is about this region and dealt in the whole grail mythology stuff of Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code some fifteen years earlier. It is also heaps better then Labrynthe.) We're not far from Rennes le Chateau which is where the local priest allegedly came into loads of money and dug things up in the local graveyard - Believers in Dan Brown's potty mythology eat your heart out..
(Not that I have anything against Dan Brown, he writes a rollicking good read but I don't believe at all in secret societies protecting the Grail legend, and I have yet to meet an albino murdering monk...)
So Spouse and I will be dragging our reluctant offspring to places like Mont Segur and Carcassone, and placating them from time to time with the beach and swimming pool.
The only trouble is this year, we've booked an apartment in a holiday village type of place. I must have been on drugs when I booked it (or very very desperate) because I went online last week to look at our accomodation and thought, yikes! it's much smaller then I thought. The pics are quite cunning, but there is a lounge/diner downstairs with sofabed, a single bedroom off the lounge diner and a mezzanine bedroom up top. This seemed like a lovely idea when we booked it and now I'm thinking. Oh dear. A mezzanine. That means you can't shut the door. Which also means no privacy for Spouse and I. Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear.
I wonder who'll be killing whom by the end of the holiday...