We just got back from summer holidays here, here and here. Finally, it seems as if we have turned a huge corner with our family holidays, and we had a surprisingly great time. Not that we don’t have a good time usually, but we have realised that Lola is old enough now to do fair amounts of walking and sightseeing, and we really did a lot of things (ok, mainly visiting castles and walking in the mountains) that made our holiday memorable.
We did a lot of walking, and we had a few picnics. Perhaps it was just this article at the back of my head, but I made sure to pack a clutch of hard-boiled eggs along with the sandwiches and fruit, and boy, were they the highlight of the day! I’m not sure what makes a hard-boiled egg so appealing to a stomach emptied by vigorous walking (I’m not usually a big fan of hard-boiled eggs), but we all wolfed them down, even when I forgot the salt wrapped up in a twist of foil. I did long for lashings and lashings of ginger beer to wash them down with, but alas, we had to make do with plain old water.
Still, I’ve come a new appreciation of the humble picnic. Fancy stuff is all fair and good, but when you’re really hungry, well, actually, anything even vaguely edible will do, seasoned as it will be by the fresh air, sunshine and the atmospheric value afforded by mountainous alps, lakes and forests.