FB and I agreed that it was totally unfair that the boys were living it up in Europe (hot and sunny Europe to boot) so we hopped on a plane and flew down to the south of France where we hired a cottage and met up with our boys. By this time G & T were in Southern Spain so they hopped on a train north and met us in Sete. Whilst we waited for them we stayed in rather a nice hotel for a treat - this was the view:
Sete is France's biggest fishing port so not really exotic but we liked it (perhaps because we live so close to Newlyn?) and, of course, the fresh fish was fantastic! On the second day the boys turned up, looking like true backpackers:
From there we moved east to Aigues Mortes (literally 'dead water') which is an amazing walled city we'd visited about six or seven years ago and really liked. It's right on the edge of The Camargue so we hired bikes to explore:
The Camargue is definitely best seen on a bike - we saw the bulls:
horses:
and flamingos:
from a distance - though they are quite noisy so we heard them grunting to each other.
We also visited the famous Roman aqueduct, the Pont du Gard which is pretty damn spectacular:
and, on the way back, the Roman Amphitheatre in Nimes which, in my ignorance, I didn't even know existed:
Not knowing that this amphitheatre existed meant that I also didn't know that they hold concerts there in the summer. This year they have had, amongst others, Santana and Sting! Going to a concert there has now been added to the list of "things to do before we die".
My holiday knitting was a total disaster. I planned to knit this:
in this colour:
which, when knitted up, looks like this:
so I planned to knit the rib in the car going up to Bristol Airport because the rib is knitted on 2.75mm needles therefore requiring metal needles as 2.75mm is too small in bamboo because 2.75mm bamboo needles tend to break. I would then swap to bamboo needles (3.00mm) which I could then get through security and, therefore, knit during the inevitable interminable wait at the airport. All went well and I duly swapped needles and knitted in the airport and knitted in France and got to the armhole shaping (having knitted it slightly longer than the pattern as was my desire). It was then that I realised I'd cast on the wrong size. In my haste I'd cast on the smallest size (which is normally my size for most patterns) but this smallest size is only a 30" bust and, with the best will in the world, that ain't going to fit over even my tiny protuberances. The language was bad. Very bad. And then I pulled the whole damned thing out. The only saving grace was that I'd started with the back as I didn't want to cable at the airport so at least I hadn't done all that as well. Having said that, if I had done the front, I'd have probably realised earlier. And do you know the really galling thing about it
.
.
.
.
.
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I'd actually circled the right size to cast on on the pattern as (when my brain was functioning properly) I'd realised that it would be very easy for me to cast on the wrong size.
Sometimes I despair at my own ineptitude ............
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