At Domaine St Pierre-Le-Vieux

The pool was where the kids excelled: diving into the water, hauling themselves out, joking and challenging each other. Allowing a few minutes to dry, then back awkwardly over the gravel without shoes and a dash across the lawn into the apartment to rejoin games and videos on their tablets and phone. Gabe, flat on his bed, with curtains drawn shut; Eliza and Robin sprawling on the sofas, or wedged against a wall where their device was recharging. 

But there was also tennis – mostly for Gabe, Robin and me. Played in the heat of the day, the twilight or the cool approach of a storm. A rotating game of singles, one service game each and a long tie-break if those games were served. At the start of the holiday, Eliza and Robin hunted lizards around the monastery grounds. Eliza built up an unassailable lead. 

Meals also absorbed the hours. Sometimes on the terrace, until we became perhaps complacent about outdoor eating or intolerant of ants dropping from the creepers above. After the evening meal, we played scrabble and more often cards: Liar, Black Two. Gabe could sometimes be persuaded to put down his phone and join us. Robin sometimes had to be persuaded to go to bed to stop his tired incompetence messing up the game. 

It wasn’t holiday euphoria, but a real measure of its worth, that had us all conclude St Pierre-Le-Vieux was our favourite holiday home. 

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One response to this post.

  1. […] he was more sociable than last year and when he came to the pool he orchestrated games – happily and unashamedly […]

    Reply

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