We were away for two and a half weeks and got up to all sorts of adventures in Brittany and (briefly) at the eastern end of the Maine, close to the Loire, in Angers. I think I might be able to stretch the tales of our wanderings in foreign parts for a couple of posts - this time I'll concentrate on the first portion.
As usual, we took the dreadful plastic tub the Armorique from Plymouth to Roscoff. It was an afternoon sailing and we took our favourite seats aboard and settled in for the crossing.
We arrived at our Breton hideaway late in the evening, sank a few glasses of quite decent Bordeaux washed down with a modicum of port and calvados - finally collapsing bedwards at stupid o'clock.
As a result, being not quite as young and quick to recover as we once were, our first full day was devoted to a spot of grocery shopping and then "chilling" as the modern parlance would have it. Or do I mean "chillaxing". No, I probably don't.
Rusticles and I had fun playing "ring" as the evening's meat was gently barbecuing.
One of the things that we do on holiday is head out into the Breton countryside with walking boots strapped securely to our most southerly appendages and attempt to follow waymarked circuits. Some of these circuits are very well waymarked. Some fall a tad short in that department. But, almost without exception, each has some glorious views or other points of interest.
Our first expedition was into the Monts d'Arrées on a walk we'd done a few years ago but fancied trogging around again. On walks like these, Rusty gets to be on holiday, too. He's not built for guiding on moorland tracks, sunken roads and rocky outcrops, so he trogs along with us on his extending lead and I try not to trip over too many things en-route.
A peculiarity of this first walk was a small hamlet on the edge of the moorland which had a large purple elephant by the side of the track. And why not? Rusticles found this a bit perturbing and wasn't at all sure of it, backing away as I tried to get a shot with him and Mrs the Millbrooker.
Here are another few shots of that first walk of the holiday.
And a short video which I have entitled "Things a Blind Bloke Shouldn't Really Do (Vol 2354)". Rusty was, unlike with a certain purple elephant, completely unperturbed by the large goat-ram-ibex installation in the middle of nowhere.
That night we were royally treated to a slap up (and very delicious) meal by a our next door neighbours Jean-Luc and Nathalie, and her son Tristan. Mmmm.
More walking expeditions followed......
On one walk, atop a rocky outcrop overlooking the Elorn Valley and out to sea ......
...... it might not have been the best idea I've ever had to call Rusty to attract his attention for a photo opportunity with Mrs the Millbrooker as we perched on high enjoying the fresh breeze:
Evenings were spent quietly in that first week - a glass or seven of wine, a night cap or three; plenty of reading and chatting between ourselves. And His Rustiness indulged in lots of his favourite indoor activity of playing tuggy with his ring, followed by his favourite non-activity.
And that pretty well sums up our first week. Tune in again soon for more Rusty sized thrills as we play host to Slocombe and Genevieve for a couple of days and then travel south with Betty Slobb and MinorEarthQwake to Angers where His Rustiness actually had to do some work.
Until then ... or should I say "à la prochaine"?
