We went to Rouen, with its famous cathedral Bayeux, and the tapestry (misnamed because it’s an embroidery, as they were falling over themselves to tell us in the “Tapestry” museum) the American cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer (think opening sequence of “Saving Private Ryan”) and Granville, a picturesque seaside resort near Mont St Michel and the location de la miel de lune. But this time, older and wiser…and with the benefit of Google…we’d research it properly and get to see everything we missed before.) (At the time we’d planned to go to the “South of France” – beautifully non-specific, as destinations go – and set off from Liverpool in a second-hand Astra, too young and stupid…this was pre-internet, you understand…to appreciate how long a drive it would be. Hubby came up with the uncharacteristically romantic suggestion to celebrate our 30 th anniversary in Normandy, where we’d honeymooned. (Although perhaps everyone feels like that, not just the sans-children my Dad once told me that his experience of life was that he got married one day – a mere thirty-something – and woke up the next day drawing his pension.)īut back to France. 30 years! Where did they go? When you’ve no kids, you live in a Peter Pan-like bubble where you never seem to get any older and time doesn’t seem to pass until…bam! A significant anniversary hits and it’s hard to ignore that the clock is ticking.
Hubby and I spent a week in France last summer to celebrate our 30 th wedding anniversary.
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