France.

It is irrational how much I enjoy hanging clothes on a line anywhere, but especially here, in the French village of Phaffans. 

Today I am alone with my thoughts and the laundry; Greg has returned to the delicious beach at Brognard. 

It takes me longer to settle in when travelling than it used to (I blame much on age), but we have been in Europe since July30th and I am getting into the rhythm of it now. Queuing at the patisserie in the morning for melt on your tongue croissants ... white Alsatian wine in the afternoons ... you get the idea.