Covid has finally killed off one of the highlights of our annual French holiday, one of the things I look forward to most each year.
Every August we spend a couple of weeks camping near a nudist beach with a bit of a party vibe on the French riviera. We were hoping against hope that we could do it again this year.
This morning a friend staying there right now has told that many of the bars and restaurants we frequent are closed and that face masks are mandatory even on the nudist beach.
I was pretty sure that the parties would be cancelled – and rightly so – but news that all the buzz of the beach scene we so enjoy has gone means we’re staying here in the Dordogne.
I know holiday fun is a trivial concern compared to the millions losing their lives and livelihoods across the world but I can’t help feeling sad and am wondering when or if this new world order will ever end.
What now? I like our holiday’s mix of Dordgone calm but equally enjoy the party vibe of the south of France.
I also crave the familiarity and routine we’ve established over the years during our stay in the south of France.
Now we have 30 days to fill – 16 here in France and then 14 under virtual house arrest -otherwise known as quarantine – back home.
It’s a thought that unsettles me. Now that I’m retired never ending nothingness scares me a bit and I need to quickly establish routine and purpose.
I’m going to start by creating some structure to my mornings – exercise then a session on my laptop including writing this blog. I also want to avoid just eating and drinking – there feels like little else to do sometimes – when you camp near these lovely Dordogne towns.
Perhaps instead we could base ourselves near a bigger town, visit a different coast, take more time appreciating the history and culture of of places we’d normally rush though on the way to somewhere else.
Not such a big problem to have I suppose. Either way we’ll endeavour to make the most of the next 16 days in France before heading home to the grey skies of a British autumn