Monday, 28 April 2014
The last day: Meribel disappears; Select, Pack, Wrap; Heaven's tears; Friends and memories
Wake up to dense cloud almost down to the chalet. Looking out the fantastic panoramic window there is no view of Mont Vallon up the valley or anything apart from the next building. Meribel has already disappeared.
Dash through the rain to La Maison Braissand, our boulangerie, to get a last croissant, deux pain au chocolate, un brioche et deux baguettes. Cast a longing glance at the colourful array of tempting tartes and cakes whose mountain-high prices have always made resisting temptation that much easier, well mostly.
Select, wrap, pack. Select, wrap, pack. Select, wrap, pack. Discard, eliminate, reconsider. Vacillate, hesitate, prevaricate. “Oh just take the teapot, and a duvet. And what about that kitchen knife?” Pack the boot, push stuff into every corner. “I want this mirror”. “Better wrap it in a towel.” Yes, that very old red towel I had hoped to leave behind!
Amit is a master of filling every space in the boot/trunk and fits everything in, even the hugely bulky curtains from the living-dining room. Suddenly we wonder if we should not have taken more.
With Vicky, Amit and Noah packed in between suitcases and assorted bags we bid a fond farewell to Meribel, windscreen wipers vigorously swiping away heaven’s tears.
After dropping the boys at the airport we head north from Geneva for the long run home back to London. As we speed through the lush green and yellow fields of Burgundy and Champagne-Ardenne towards Picardie we think back on all the family and friends who have shared the Chalet with us over the years.
The list is long, the memories even longer.
The last day: Meribel disappears; Select, Pack, Wrap; Heaven's tears; Friends and memories
Wake up to dense cloud almost down to the chalet. Looking out the fantastic panoramic window there is no view of Mont Vallon up the valley or anything apart from the next building. Meribel has already disappeared.
Dash through the rain to La Maison Braissand, our boulangerie, to get a last croissant, deux pain au chocolate, un brioche et deux baguettes. Cast a longing glance at the colourful array of tempting tartes and cakes whose mountain-high prices have always made resisting temptation that much easier, well mostly.
Select, wrap, pack. Select, wrap, pack. Select, wrap, pack. Discard, eliminate, reconsider. Vacillate, hesitate, prevaricate. “Oh just take the teapot, and a duvet. And what about that kitchen knife?” Pack the boot, push stuff into every corner. “I want this mirror”. “Better wrap it in a towel.” Yes, that very old red towel I had hoped to leave behind!
Amit is a master of filling every space in the boot/trunk and fits everything in, even the hugely bulky curtains from the living-dining room. Suddenly we wonder if we should not have taken more.
With Vicky, Amit and Noah packed in between suitcases and assorted bags we bid a fond farewell to Meribel, windscreen wipers vigorously swiping away heaven’s tears.
After dropping the boys at the airport we head north from Geneva for the long run home back to London. As we speed through the lush green and yellow fields of Burgundy and Champagne-Ardenne towards Picardie we think back on all the family and friends who have shared the Chalet with us over the years.
The list is long, the memories even longer.
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