Vosges picnic mooringI’m not saying I wouldn’t fully appreciate a turquoise Aegean sea, or a white sand stretching forever, fringed with palm trees, (me emerging from the waves with a conch shell, like Ursula Andres) or exploring fascinating ancient South American cultures, but right now, right here, is perfection for me. There is so much green – green reflecting in green, and birdsong, and clean air – just the occasional creak of the mooring ropes. However, into every dream creeps a little pique, a little something to gall, and the ninth battalion, front offensive, Ants has decided to make an expedition up our mooring ropes and onto the deck. But there are wild strawberries flowering here, and sticky fir-cone flowers; and I’m glad I can appreciate them as much as seeing a couple roller-skating hand in hand on the canal path, or window-shopping in the most exclusive Parisian districts – or wondering about the bundled-up tramp in the Basilica porchway at Epinal.

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