The Mediterranean beckons

I'm a spur of the moment sort of person so I announce that we are taking a trip to the Mediterranean a mere hop from Carcassonne. 'When'? His Lordship enquires. 'Immediately' I reply and 'Mummy's little helpers' jump to attention falling over themselves with glee at the prospect of running the show. I'm bundled out of the front door with indecent haste trailing sarongs, flip flops and clutching a tube of toothpaste. 'You'll be fine then' ? I detect a slight uncertainty in my voice. The sound of the door closing resolutely leaves me standing on the driveway.

Heading South through the Corbieres the sky looks a promising clear blue with the sweet fragrance of Mediterranean cyprus's wafting through the windows. I find the perfect spot (naturally) in which to decamp. Situated next to the lagoons of the Narbonne coast, Rome's first colony in Gaul, a silvery path of soft sand winds its way to the shoreline where waves are making a pleasing swooshing sound. The season has barely started down here and ends abruptly on August 30th as the French don't seem to have twigged that the rest of the world holidays all year round.

We drove through the beautiful Le Massif de la Clape, an area of outstanding natural beauty and famous for its wine to the tiny village of Bages. We admire the inlet where Philippe le Longue galleys were built for his crusade which never took place. A wonderful sundial presented by Louis XIV in gratitude to the people of Bages for their care of his exhausted troops on their return from his Spanish campaign adourns the Medieval arch to this fortified village. Houses built in the 18th and 19th centuries for the wine growers cluster together. At this point I would love to continue with my languid and seductive description as I toil with my paintbrush to bring you this picture of rural France but as with most picture postcard scenes brutish and insensitive renovation abounds.

I am however blessed by the sighting of two oyster catchers, well lovebirds anyway in the early morning light of the utterly still and silent lagoon. On one side is the full moon throwing its shadows on the water, to the other side the morning suns begins to show its first rays. The rest of the coastline is barely stirring as we saunter along to the sea. I take my first tentative paddle but then I'm in embracing the salty sea joined only by the solitary fisherman on the rocks in the distance. A breakfast of fresh baguette and Bonne Maman Cassis Gelée brings the invigorating experience to a pleasurable close.

On our return home however I know why I fell in love with the Languedoc.

Weddings in the South of France

Love is in the air.

I hope this photograph makes you smile.

Carcassonne -Bournemouth via Mr Ryanair

And jolly good it was to be back too and catch the last of the cascading roses adorning Le Chateau. Mr Ryanair has changed our lives since announcing the direct route from Carcassonne - Bournemouth. I can now sneak back to my hideaway in Dorset and carry on my thriving business in the South of France. Oh the decadence and freedom of the mature working woman. There's only one small drawback though, and you thought I had it all didn't you ? Mummy's little helpers, ie: cheap slave labour are also taking advantage of it too.

Anyway enough of that. This week as well as taking time to smell the roses and generally sniff with appreciation the sometimes sultry air I've been practising my Diplomatic skills. Never one to be shy of coming forward I've witnessed some breathtaking cock-ups but with age comes wisdom as they say so I've kept Mum. And you know what ? I've had a much more peaceful time of late. How then has it taken me so long to figure that one out ?

The Grand Duchess took herself off to a wedding yesterday down in Perpignan. A lavish affair co-ordinated by a frightenly organised American Wedding Planner. A radiant bride, scores of little bridesmaids tumbling and giggling whilst the tearful proud Mothers rubbed shoulders with genuine punk rockers. The weather was kind and a mixture of Americans and Irish came together to enjoy a fairytale wedding in the South of France. The Grand Duchess was very nearly upstaged by a splendid horse drawn carriage but in her own true style drew admiring glances, the whole ensemble bringing the traffic to a complete halt.

At the end of the day just as the late afternoon was beginning to close in I hopped on my bike for a breath of fresh air. We are, as you may well all know, surrounded by the most utterly breathtaking countryside. Not a soul was in sight as I pedelled along. The verges were bursting with fat clover, the sweet smell of the wild honeysuckle hung heavily in the air, bright red poppies delicately flirted and wavered in the breeze. The tiny heads of the sunflowers had begun to push their way up searching for the warmth of the southern sun. I calculated that soon I would be surrounded by millions of them, a completely enthralling sight.

I came across a wild cherry tree too and nibbled appreciately on its sweet fruit.

I then wondered what I had done to deserve all this. The benefits of keeping one's counsel I daresay.

Holiday Dorset

I've been rather remiss of late and neglected my little blog spot preferring to run with the crowd, follow the herd and indulge in a spot of tweeting. A little of what you fancy does you no harm as they say although my Aunt who's nearly pushing 90 says I look as though I've indulged a little too much of late. I had to pass on another slice of her homemade cherry cake and refuse a melting moment biscuit. For inspirational mature women though go read Ivy Bean on Twitter, a sprightly young 104 who's amassed a following of over 10,000 in a matter of days. Now if I could only entice her to follow me back I'd be laughing all the way to the bank just as Ivy and her friends must be chortling to themselves at us all.

I have to admit that I have been slightly dismayed by the weather and I feel horribly smug that next week promises beautiful warm weather over in France. But that's not to say we haven't been bewildered by unseasonal flurries of wind and rain sending the guests scurrying for the comfort of the Aga.

However I'm lucky now because I have the opportunity to slope back to Dorset and visit family and friends more regularly since Ryanair decided to open up the route from Carcassonne to Bournemouth, giving me the cherry on the cake, the best of both worlds and the freedom to explore fresh avenues and broaden my horizons. Le Chateau is filling up with holiday makers for the season in complete contradiction to everything written in the press sending us all into spasms of self doubt earlier in the year. I just simply put my head down and worked harder than ever believing fully in myself and what I had to offer.

And I will say, albeit quietly, I think it's paid off.

Now about that free holiday for Ivy and her cronies....

Sons and Mothers

On the spur of the moment I decided that '2b' and I should go for 'quality time' together. The sky was that vivid deep blue with dancing puffy white clouds and the sun was mocking us for chaining ourselves to our computers. He looked startled and apprehensive, wondering what the catch was I daresay.

Against my better judgement we kicked off at MacDonald's. No sign of Ronald, balloons and free tacky toys. Instead, deep bitter chocolate hues with stainless steel, all rather grown up and sensible I thought. I grimaced as I bit into something slopped into a bun. 'This is great isn't it' ? I said. Nearly choked on my words. Across from us there was a ubercool looking Mummy in tight jeans and pink Converse Trainers complete with blue streak in her hair. She was picking at a salad whilst I imagined my arteries clogging up and a nasty little nagging voice was mocking me for being a fraud. I'm lovin'it, not.

'We'll take the roof off' I said. Well in for a penny, in for a pound or euros whatever. We happily whizzed along the road to Carcassonne Plage getting a wonderful eyeful of La Cité in the distance, a fairly awesome Medieval Castle and a magnet for visitors. Would have stopped and taken an awarding winning shot but a BMW driver was trying to park in my boot.

On our arrival at La Plage it looked so gorgeous and inviting we ran down to the waters edge startling a courting couple of geese paddling gently along. A sandcastle sat by the waters edge and for a split second I felt a pang as bitter sweet memories flooded back. We both stood there appreciating the beauty of the location and the moment.

Afterwards we topped it off by a visit to the thrift shop. My boy can sniff a bargain at ten paces and soon his shoulder was sporting casually flung over designer clothes. Lots of chatter, heaps of laughter and oodles of fun, all for 5 euros. 'I sure rock as a Mom' I quipped. 'Quit Twitter now' he replied 'whilst you're still ahead and he rolled his eye's.

Total cost of the day then

Priceless.

Slow Down.

Yesterday could best be described as a lingering lazy luxurious day. Taking notice of the latest UK government advice I've decided to slow down, apparently we must. Nanny knows best.

I kick off with a very slow bath. Slothful some might say. My lovely Texan ladies had left behind an eyewatering variety of goodies just for petite moi. First fill tub to brim with Rosemary bath milk and lather up body with vegetable based soap. Invigorate head, although not too rapidly obviously, with essential oil of sage shampoo and plonk on essential oil of juniper tonic for good measure. Finish whole process with cooling foot spray and Burt's Bees outdoor deodorant with more oil of sage and contemplate garden whilst appreciately sniffing my newly created aroma.

Click clacked languidly over the warmth of the surrounding pool tiles and lowered myself gratefully onto garden steamer. One has to test the product regularly in my line of work. His Lordship is bracing himself for the first swim of the season and eyeing up the twinkling pool. 'Looks inviting wouldn't you say' ? he bellows. 'If you say so' I reply and rack my brain for the location of rubber wetsuit.

I'm just dozing off and admiring the view of the puffy white clouds through the sharp contrast of the jagged palm tree leaves when I hear the inevitable splashing of water. 'Thought you had more backbone' he says. 'Not me' I reply, 'anyway I'm terribly busy'.

To prove the point I huff and puff and make a show of hanging out the washing, there's something very theraputic about pegging towels on the line when its a gorgeous hot day and the smell of pine trees is wafting seductively in the air.

He's now wallowing on his back making quite unneccesary loud splashing noises as he chugs up and down the pool telling me how wonderful it is.

I notice that the divine rose is beginning to come out in all its splendour but then those naughty weeds are peeking through too.

I regain my position next to the pool and close my eye's tightly. I can feel the warmth of the sun searing through to my bones and my senses becoming dizzy.

I'm only following the Governments guidelines .....

CHOCOholic

I suppose it's time I 'fessed up', that's admitted to, come clean, set the record straight, 'Hello my name is Sally and I'm a CHOCOholic'.

I can't help it but the intake has been frightening over the last couple of weeks. I'm sorry I haven't had time to blog I've been nibbling on Easter bunnies, crunching on eggs, sucking slowly on rich divine luxurious chocolate, dipping languidly into sumptuously adorned boxes, hiding my very last Cadbury's cream egg for that ultra special moment. And you all thought I was just a lovely straightforward, honest, uncomplicated human being breathing deeply on the southern warm air floating in straight from the shores of the Mediterranean didn't you ? Fancy me hiding my last egg. Oh well appearances can be deeply deceptive as we all know.

Whilst I'm munching away I'm biding my time very carefully because I detect a change in the air and Sallys Chateau may well set her course for a new adventure. Savouring that last mini egg for example really sharpened and heightened my ideas for a new project.

Meanwhile however I am lucky enough to meet the most wonderful folks and were it not for being fortunate enough to land on Le Chateau for a short while I would not have had the privilege of crossing paths with them. Take my guests this week for example (and here I am breaking the golden rule of gossiping) the most gorgeous girlie's from Texas breezed in for Easter.

They say that people that have passed through and events that have taken place give a place it's 'feel' and I would wholeheartedly agree. Le Chateau just oozes 'it' and my lovely guests added another delicious layer to its character.

Catch it whilst it lasts I say.