Brittany’s Pink Granite coastline really is pink – and a lot more spectacular than I was expecting.
Back from our annual holiday, so apologies for the silence.
I obviously don’t broadcast when we are going away, especially with it being so close to Christmas. Some ten years ago when burglars cleared us out, they had clearly done their Christmas shopping in our house. A kind of one-stop-shop I suppose – clocks, writing boxes, antiques, computers, fax machines, clothes, sofa throws… You name it, they took it.
My husband still can’t bear to think of it, especially as it included my wedding present to him and a special present – a Second World War marching compass – that it took me nearly a year to pay for. It is rather galling to save painstakingly for something, putting aside a little each month, and then be simply relieved of it by someone who can’t be bothered to work.
Anyway, on a lighter note, we have been away in Brittany, exploring the Cote de granite rose. It really is pink, by the way. The bright salami pink of granite kitchen worksurfaces, but since it is soft, far from being shiny, it has been moulded and eroded away by the wind and sea to make the most amazing shapes – the Pile of Pancakes, the Death’s Head, the Whale etc. I must admit I had no idea there was anything quite this spectacular in Europe – if it had been America I wouldn’t have been surprised.
The sea around there is bright turquoise – a result of the kaolin clay in the granite washing away – and at times, crashes up against the beach with enormous and treacherous force. Here and there, there are houses built up against – almost into – the rocks, which provide the only form of shelter against the wind.
I’ll keep this short for today, as I catch up with world events (doom and gloom as usual, I see), for having been without telly for a week, I feel quite peaceful. Our main efforts today are going into warming the house up after 10 days with no heating, and petting all the animals in turn, who appear to have missed us in our absence (or maybe it’s just the woodburner…).