Plain sailing – and plane mad!
To reward it for not dying in the mountains, we took the van for a short holiday to Lake Annecy. The city of Annecy itself is a living, breathing picture postcard of medieval quaintness. On the day we ventured into town it was market day so the streets were awash with cured meats, Savoyard cheeses and strong beers, which is my idea of heaven, and we grazed at the samples laid out by each stall, treating the place like an enormous outdoor buffet. Talking of scavengers, instead of being littered with pigeons like other European cities, Annecy is inhabited by an inordinate number of swans. It’s almost as if the council decided that pigeons weren’t twee enough for Annecy and so shipped in herds of swans instead – trained swans that mill around posing for photos and, well, swanning about I guess. Anyway, laden with produce, we retired to the south end of the lake and made our way to the beach. Now, when I say beach what I actually mean is a swathe of foot-lac