I adore eating outside. My family is so hardy that we’ve been known to have lunch al fresco as early as March and as late as October – through wind, rain and freezing temperatures. And we don’t use one of those environmentally-unfriendly heaters either. But in France, eating outdoors is even better. Breakfast is on the terrace, which has a stunning view but is currently too full of bikes, rubble, ...keep reading
Sitting in Oxford, with the number 7 bus trundling past and Marks & Spencer just up the road, I sometimes think the house with no name must be a figment of my imagination. Am I going to wake up one day and discover that the tumbledown French farmhouse that inspired this blog was just a dream? Definitely not. It all looked splendidly real when we sat in the courtyard in ...keep reading