It’s been a hot week. So much so that Monsieur le Vest has abandoned all pretence at decency along with his vest. Yes, we all need to cool down but was it entirely necessary for him to divest himself of every shred of covering from his upper body? I put it to you that it was not. Apart from anything else, what am I going to call him now? Monsieur sans Vest? Thankfully his nether regions are still encased in something large and billowing but as the window tends to frame only his trés rotund belly that is small compensation. Monsieur le Belly it is, so.
It’s been up in the 30’s most days and quite humid with it. Our local wind, the Tramontane, has helped considerably to keep me from having an attack of the vapours but even it deserted us for a few days last week.
Jo came down from Toulouse to take advantage of the coastal offering and we indulged in a spot of sunbathing on the beach at Collioure. Well…she did. I lasted about 10 minutes before retiring to the shade with a good book. The following day we decided that the only way to cool down was to head out to sea so we opted for the 2-hour boat-trip that takes in Argelés, Collioure and Port Vendres.
A good idea. In theory. Seems the captain was feeling a bit lethargic himself and there was no way he was going to be rushed. So, we moved at a snail’s pace, barely whipping up more than a slight breath. I kept looking around expecting to find an albatross shadowing our craft. We were overtaken by windsurfers, canoes, fish and small toddlers swimming. Languidly languishing on the open deck, we shed enough water between us to cause a high tide in all 3 ports of call. Not our finest 2 hours.