Monet meltdown

A second happy coincidence: not only was our campsite close to a Carthago dealer, but it's also close to Monet's garden at Giverny. I love his waterlilies, so I managed to convince Kevin it was worth a visit. And it was. But first we had to contend with the mother of all meltdowns from Jemima. She refused to walk, or go on the lovely new pushable trike we'd bought her for this very situation; and we refused to carry her - she's too big now, and we'll be carrying her for the next two months. So it was a Mexican standoff. A very noisy one, just the other side of the wall to Monet's formerly peaceful garden. German and Japanese tourists smiled sympathetically as our little angel lay on the pavement yelling. A security guard came out of the garden to see who was being murdered. And it went on for over an hour. But finally, Jemima went to sit on her trike, and then was perfectly happy to be pushed around the old stone and flower-covered village, only getting off to chase bubbles outside a shop; and then walked perfectly happily around the gardens, particularly thrilled with some hard fought games of pooh sticks from the Japanese water garden bridges. So it was worth the decibels in the end.

Then off to the Normandy beaches for our next night stop - Sword to be exact; and our first family bike ride - along the beachfront in the evening light, with surfers where the Allies landed. And back to Beatrix for a real motorhoming evening - dinner in the van in a proper Aire (basically a car park) and no electricity hook up! We're hardcore now... 

All the following photos courtesy of Kevin (except the ones he's in).

The tantrum:

Bubbles!:

Monet's house:

The gardens:

The water lily pond:

The solitary unseasonal water lily:

Pooh sticks from THAT bridge:

And the bike ride: