I’m back from a restorative trip to Provence and am feeling invigorated for the great autumn lock-in of 2025.
Provence sells itself as endless sunshine and lavender fields, but the reality, outlined in one of my reading recommendations below the paywall, is often harsher – the brutal mistral winds, rain, even the odd bit of snow. While we were there I ended up driving in the worst conditions I’ve ever experienced on the road, caught between pulling over for our safety and carrying on to avoid getting stuck, rain washing stone driveways onto the autoroute and manholes popping up while lightning and thunder rumbled around us.
Nevertheless, most of the trip consisted of sunny skies, chateaux, Hockney-looking pools, hilltop villages and local vineyards so some stereotypes do hold true.
My hometown of Bath is twinned with Aix-en-Provence, and at twelve I found myself on language exchange isolated in a French farmhouse outside town with a very shy French girl and her mum, her English father only returning right as I left to fill the swimming pool up for the summer. As an adult I played rugby for Rouen, a fact I divulged on this trip when complimented on my rapidly worsening French by a restaurant owner who replied, ‘Rouen?! C’est dur…’ chuckling at my misfortune to not have ended up somewhere sunnier. I found my Aix experience harder than my Rouen one, even if Normandy took longer for me to come down from.
Now I’m back in Blighty, assailed by a sea of miserable news stories, but I don’t feel blue. I feel invigorated and ready for the next few months. Some exciting opportunities have arrived in my inbox while I’ve been away, and there all kinds of possibilities to explore.
this week: Provence and reading recommendations, a secret bookshop beyond Mt Ventoux and a vague roadmap for September