A Respite

I spoke briefly to Gill last night who is enjoying the calm, though she will be happier when she is no longer a young mother. The morning was foggy and chilly and the children amused themselves by kicking a soccer ball around. They have caught France's fever and play amicably enough until some mishap happens and then start screaming and arguing about the rules of the game. Gill tells them to lighten up: it's only a game.

But how can you tell a French person, no matter his or her age, that it's only a game? France came so close - unexpectedly - to being the world's best and then their key player gets angry, head-butts an Italian, is disqualified, and misses the "tir au bout" where a younger player (poor fellow) misses the net and thus loses the World Cup for the country.

The afternoon brightened up and Gill took the children to the beach. It's rocky but there are sandy patches and so the children splashed and played, laughed and sang, their morning feud forgotten. Gill says the beach is a sought-after vacation spot and reminds her of Newcastle in Northern Ireland.

Although she loves cooking, she does not enjoy catering to the children's tastes and is glad that the grandmother has taken over the meals. Unlike her son and his wife, she is a traditionalist and serves a series of courses that include coffee and wine. Unfortunately, the grandparents leave on Thursday for a family wedding and the children's father arrives, which means, Gill fears, that she will once again be chief chef and cleaner-upper.