So we didn’t *actually* camp every night of our holiday. We rolled it up in favour of a few nights of home comforts and a family reunion in Burgundy. Getting there involved a mad dash across Paris for connecting trains, which was such fun I think Tom might be a convert to city cycling. My family greeted us off the train on a fleet of bikes and we had a merry escort up the hill to the gite.
We spent the days catching up over lazy breakfasts, enjoying the perfectly smooth roads, and visiting local villages. We welcomed in my 31st year with strawberry tarts, sorbet, and espresso. It feels a good start to the rest of the year.