The hottest weekend this year, and the lakes have dominated the agenda (Pierre Châtel on Saturday, Pétichet on Sunday). Bagging a small patch of shade, we rotated our picnic spot as the sun progressed, in much closer physical proximity with our neighbours than usual. There were rich people-watching opportunities: beefcakes and dolly birds who have have clearly spent every free hour perfecting their tans; wimpy youths revealing underpants under their swimshorts (hence the hygiene rule in French swimming pools: close-fitting swimwear only, to prevent men wearing this double layer); barrel-shaped, hirsute specimens talking loudly on their mobiles; toddlers, teenagers - the world was there.
Juan stayed for as long as I have ever seen him on a "beach". But I couldn't persuade him from the house on Sunday, so I went on my own to absolutely hoaching Pétichet, with its awesome views of the Dévoluy peaks, and added to the lobster-red streaks on my back. (How? I was in shade the whole time.) I now need to prepare for a 20-degree temperature drop in Edinburgh, where I am bound tomorrow.
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