I went on vacation with a bunch of three-year-old girls

Not intentionally. It just so happened that they were everywhere I went, during a whirlwind trip to France and the UK in June.

First, there was my cousin's wedding celebration near the village of St Laurent in France. Three children were in attendance, the youngest of whom was three.

Kids at the playground

Next I visited some old friends who now live in Canterbury. Their daughter is my goddaughter, and she turned three a few months ago. Finally, I went to see other old friends in London, whose twin daughters were on the cusp of turning three.

All in all, it was an unexpected crash course in the vagaries of the temperament of this age group, interspersed with surprisingly adult conversations in which they very seriously told me about their books, their clothes and various adventures.


Kids notwithstanding, I was also blessed with good company, good food and wine, and absolutely great weather. London was so sunny, I came back with a bit of a tan.

Next time, I must set aside more time for beachcombing and oysters at Whitstable, Gordon's Wine Bar in London, and more of London's small museums, especially Dennis Severs' House.

Belle and her domain



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