I can remember when I was a little girl, friends and family getting out their holiday photographs. They would hand you a wad of them to look at. Lots of views of somewhere, pictures of flowers and gardens, the obligatory group shot where at least one person had their eyes closed. I have a whole box of these photographs on top of my wardrobe. When I look at them now, they transport me back. I smile at our seventies attire. Boy, me and my sister had a lot of bad hair days. My Mum and Dad look youthful and attractive. The colours are different too, and I like to think that it was forever summer back then.
Today we can tinker, and take shot after shot after shot. We can zoom and soften the edges. We aren't limited to 24 exposures. No red eye for me. No fuzzy shots either (unless it's deliberate). I can get all arty and zoom right in until the image is almost abstract. Or I can take a sweeping panorama of the view.
We went on holiday to France. It was a fantastic trip. Betty did us proud. It was like living out of a compact and bijou home from home. It was hot. Very hot. There was sun and sand and sea. There was beautiful scenery and different architecture. There were blue shutters at the windows. The food was glorious. The people were very cool.
The boys squabbled and fought. They rode their bikes and said "Merci" and "Bonjour." They played in the pool and lounged and loafed. They read. They made friends and played football and chasing games. We had friendly holiday neighbours from France, Ireland and Wales. People came and took photographs of Betty. She was stared and pointed at. She really was the coolest thing in Brittany for a week. It was great!
I share some photographs to give you an idea of our holiday. There are literally hundreds to choose from. I rather hanker after the days when I could sit you down, and pass them to you one by one.... you know, until your eyes glaze over at yet another picture of Olly in the pool. Or a Hollyhock. Or a French building. Or me looking rather self conscious in a bikini.....
On the way down the A30 towards home, I was overcome with a lyrical waxing inside my head. This song had just come on the radio. Marc and I always said it was our song. The sun was setting, and the sky was a pinky hue. Olly was asleep, and Alfie was cuddled up next to me in the back of Betty which was piled high with our stuff. Sam and Marc were chatting in the front. Laughing. I was overcome with a feeling of well being.
We have had the best time together. I can't wait to do it all again.