A Rebours

Now I am back from my interesting holiday in France. Alas, not interesting for you, only for me.

I did bugger all, except read and eat and drink wine.

Now, unsurprisingly enough, I want to move to France.

But not the bits of France people usually like. I was near Montreuil, where Hugo wrote and set Les Miserables, and Hesdin, where the author of Manon Lescault was born.

In this part of the world you wake up, have your breakfast, plan your lunch, eat your lunch, have your nap, plan your dinner, eat your dinner, look at the many nice stars, go to your bed.

I know I was on holiday, but there were still chances to write something. I read two novels a day. So surely one could write one a year while reading one a day?