Sunday morning and we set off for a spin in the car. I doze off and wake up in – Biarritz. Wow. Back at my beloved Atlantic again. With sunshine. What a treat! It feels like my birthday. In actual fact, it is His Lordship’s birthday and this is his treat, but I’m certainly not complaining!

Typically, the Oldies had set off on spec. Nothing specific planned, no accommodation booked, the usual. This time, however, they hit the jackpot. They found a wonderful hotel practically on the beach, just a few kilometres outside Biarritz (and half the price of the hotels they had looked at in town). We got a lovely room with a balcony. It was just magic to fall asleep and wake up to the sound of the waves.

I want to live here! In fact, I’m even thinking of going back to school…

Biarritz is one of the best locations in Europe for surfing. The sea around here is infested with these lunatics and their boards. It’s quite amusing to watch them trying to catch the waves and I have to admit that, although they’ll never be able to compete with us gulls for agility on the water, some of them are pretty good.

Biarritz itself is a lovely town with plenty of grandeur and Her Ladyship has been doing my head in with all her oohing and aahing over the Art Deco architecture. I, personally, only have eyes for the ocean. Though I have spotted a villa or two that I wouldn’t say no to.

I don’t understand it. France has such a reputation for haute cuisine, yet the reality is often extremely disappointing. After their experiences the first night with rude waiters and miniscule portions of mediocre food at astronomical prices, the Oldies decided to dine in on the second evening. Or rather, out – out on the balcony. A nice bottle of St. Emilion Grand Cru, some decent French cheese (that the French can manage very well, I have to say), some crusty bread and green grapes. Throw in that view, the crashing of the surf as background music and it beats many a so-called gourmet restaurant. Très agréable!

All too soon, our mini-break was at an end. On the way home, however, we stopped off to spend the afternoon at the Dune de Pilat near Arcachon. This is the largest sand dune in Europe. A staggering three kilometres long and 107 metres high, you can see it from miles away. The coolest thing about it is that it is constantly advancing – at a rate of between one and five metres a year. It is basically eating up the forest and anything else in its path (fences, buildings) as it moves. How wicked is that!

It’s a bit of an effort to climb to the top because the sand is so fine (one step forward, three steps back…), although there’s a flight of steps for wimps like the Oldies. The view over Arcachon Bay is definitely worth it. Magnifique!

After those wonderful days by the sea, the Charente is so quiet, especially at night. Total silence, apart from the odd screech of an owl (or its victim). Eerie!

In my dreams though, I still hear the ocean. I think I will do so for many a night to come.