We are home, after a long and hot holiday in which we all swam, we all ate many tomato-based things and we are all suitably sun-damaged. Greece was lovely, Turkey was better, London is a little bit cold.
Turkey – A Song
You are like a sauna
And your pancakes are satisfyingly chewy
Best not to be tackled if your teeth are false,
Which mum and dad can vouch for.
Ohhhhh, Turkey, Turkey,
Your toilets take some getting used to,
And air-conditioning is a must
I like your coffee,
Even if it is like a thick paste of wrongness.
We will be back,
To buy some more stuff
While you ply us with apple tea.
Thanks. I just find writing these ditties really easy. It is a kind of talent, I guess.
And I did not buy a kilim. We got a big 60 year old pomegranate design rug, which will fill the house with good fertility vibes, instead. PHEW that will come in handy in our barren household. At first, unrolled and plonked in the middle of our living room, I feared that it was an extremely ugly rug and that I had made a rather unstylish choice. But now I feel only love for the rug. Let me hereby decree according to the Harridan Style Laws that souvenirs are always to be considered stylish, even if you have to stress the ironic aspect of that particular stylishness, and even if your Romanian cleaner sniggers softly to herself when you tell her how much you paid for said item. So says me. Moving swiftly onwards.
Here are some pictures so you can get all jealous.
See the fruit at the market! Witness the cute baby! Marvel at the cool trout farm/restaurant place! Gurn like my parents while they still had intact teeth! And below, the only photo of me out of 301 that I look not REALLY REALLY HEFTY.
And for your amusement, a little photo essay at Custard’s expense. Watch as he makes a run from the Greek villa:
Realises he has left behind his blanket:
Finds that he cannot get back over and is stuck:
And the full weight of the situation dawns on him:
But finally succeeds and is reunited with his blanket. He takes a moment by the air conditioning unit to regroup.
Annnnnd another gratuitous shot of my terribly good-looking baby.
There is no Greek song today, as Greece was a bit dullsville after the romance and drama of Turkey. If I did make a song, it may well be a bit moany and going on about the euro, so I will spare you. Poor old Greece was a bit arid and there were too many tourists in Lindos. The villa was a little bit plain and I was very accustomed to my Turkish infinity pool. The greek one was a bit, erm, finite in comparison.
In other non-holiday-related news, we got back to a new bed. It is a memory foam one, and it is super-king, so I have to roll for about three minutes to find my husband. It is so excellent. It feels as though it has been woven with the feathery wingtips of the angels, I tell you. One day I shall post a photo, but I would need to use the wide angle lens. The children are still elbowing each other in the eyeballs, but it really wouldn’t be a proper morning without that, you know?
Anyhoo, it is nice to be back.