As the mighty and ever-enduring Sir Cliff once didn't sing (or, at least, not in public). This is the moment that you knew was coming - Mrs The Millbrooker and I have returned from the chill-out zone of Trebrivan in Cotes d'Armor and now I feel the need to tell whoever's daft enough to read this nonsense all about it.
I'll try to keep it brief, I know how dreadfully dull hearing about other people's holidays can be. On the other hand, I've got sod all else to write about until something exciting happens here in Millbrook - so...
As with all good Breton adventures, the beginning of that holiday feeling started up on the ferry with a glass of something stimulating (or, if something stimulating is unavailable, a glass of underwhelming 2008 Cellier du Dauphin).
Not to be outdone in the race to take holiday snaps of each other, Mrs The Millbrooker indulged in the traditional pastime of portrait photography during dinner. Her subject, in the absence of anyone more elegant, being yours truly drooling over some yummy pink lamb cutlets which stubbornly refused to remain correctly exposed for the shot .
We disembarked in the dark at Roscoff and, due to the weather being a bit on the dodgy side, took the longer route to Trebrivan using main roads that might have had half a chance of being gritted and/or open.
There was plentiful snow on the moorland of the Monts d'Arrees, and we thought it might be nice to drive up the next day and take a good look. But 'twas not to be.
After a night's snoring and farting (me) and demurely but lightly sleeping (Mrs The Millbrooker), we awoke to find that there had been overnight snowfall - hmmm, probably not going anywhere for the moment, then.
Dwellers in the alpine regions will laugh in the face of such a light dusting as shown above, but we decided that, discretion being the better part of valour, we'd sit tight and make ourselves cosy. It seemed like the only sensible (civilized?) thing to do.
We did, though, venture in Carhaix to get supplies for the next few days. So Monsieur LeClerc got a few more of our hard earned pennies.
...on the way back, the white stuff began to fall again.
We took a potter outside to see Trebrivan looking all white and nice (trust me, there's more of this to follow).
And then Mrs The MIllbrooker test drove her latest purchase from LeClerc's - some fluffy purple pantoufles (look up the French yourself if you need to and can't work it out from the photo).
And that, me dears, was day one. How little did we guess that yet more white stuff was about to dump on us in great quantities and that our holidays would be very Trebrivan-centric.
Stay tuned for the next thrilling instalment which might feature lots of photos of snow.