It's been a fine time of decompressing. After a couple of days in the Bordeaux / Perigord region (about which, more later I hope) we tucked ourselves into our hillside hideaway of Pezilla de Conflent and decompressed ... some grand walks in the hills, visits with a fire salamander, sub-alpine warbler and miniature iris and narcissus; reading and chatting and walking the village dog that adopts us down there. Some hermitting was going on, but Easter Monday saw us social and joining in the village Easter feast, a convivial four hours of wine, omelette de Paques, and local chat.
I managed one spell of writing ... keeping the tradition going that the new novels kick in while surrounded by those green hills. Otherwise my working and writing brain switched off for a time and I read work that comes nowhere near my own writing and teaching remit. I return with that comforting feel of being restored to somewhat normal again.