...without any crazy swimming in/leaping into the freezing cold Mediterranean. The parents cheated somewhat by wearing wetsuits but inspired by the warm, bright sunshine, I decided to forego even the fingerless gloves of Christmases past and leaped straight on into the sea in my bikini. "Vous êtes anglais ou écossais, évidemment," said a French lady walking past with her dog. Clearly only Brits would be mad enough to actually swim in the sea on Christmas Day. Wrapped in towels, afterwards, we sipped from a mini bottle of Champagne and ate some fresh baguette.
Now we're preparing a very nice côte de bœuf for dinner, which will be preceded by some freshly caught oysters and prawns--another advantage of being in France for Christmas is that there is not a single turkey in sight. Or, on this occasion, a mince pie or Christmas pudding--foods of which I am not in the least bit fond.
