We land at Carcassonne airport EXTREMELY early.
As we had to drive down to Stansted airport in the early hours of the morning, we have had about an hours’ sleep. Well, I had an hour or two’s sleep, Trevor, being “a man” decided not to go to sleep in case he doesn’t hear the 2 am alarm call.
We jump on the train at Carcassonne and by time we get to the village house I cannot keep my eyes open and even Trevor is looking a little glazed and hollow eyed though he would never admit to such unmanly weakness ( Lord preserve me from old fashioned and unpolitically correct men who cannot admit to human frailty!)
It still early morning but over 30 degrees already and shaping up to be a typical Campagne scorcher.
I give the house a cursory inspection, no apparent leaks or collapsed masonry and no visible wasps nests ( they had a colony until we moved in and started blocking up entrance and exit routes) Trevor opens the French doors to the terrace, throws a few cushions on the bench, strips off and lies in the sun with a deep sigh.
“Don’t fall asleep, you’ll fry later!” I said….no response….so I lie down on the bed and close my eyes for a minute.
Three hours later I wake up and the sun is at it’s zenith. I wander outside and there is a very pink thing basting lightly on the bench.
Having slung his arm over his eyes, said pink thing has a white stripe across his face but the rest, ALL the rest, resembles Tonto twinned with grilled pork. I shake him awake proffering after sun lotion or aloe vera and try to persuade him that a cool shower ( we only have that kind anyway!) would help.
No, Mr Casual did not suffer sunburn and turned brown within 24 hours
No, I can’t post the pictures or I will be arrested…