We've arrived on the balmy south coast this evening. A drive split up by stopping in Lyon last night to stay with friends and spend this morning discovering the old city of Lyon before finishing the final leg of the journey.
But of course since I last posted we've been to a Frog cousin wedding in Picardie just 40 minutes north from home. It was a beautiful simple affair with elements of the bride's Breton home brought along, dancing by her relatives, dinner to Breton music (think Irish pipes) and seashells and sea motifs throughout. The bride's mum died a couple of years ago so it was a fairly emotional day for her and her family.
Whilst I thought those were going to be the highlights of the event, Frog had other ideas. Whilst we stepped outside part way through the five hour dinner for some fresh air and a chat with family, several balloons floated out past us from the village hall. Frog started to hit them into the air and I believe he was going for a slam dunk when instead of smacking the balloon he smacked me straight in the eye. Call it the result of emotion, a couple of glasses of wine too many or fatigue induced clumsiness, I am now the proud bearer of half an eyeball that is crimson bloodshot. Shortly after arriving home - as I was in a little discomfort by this point - I took my contact lens out to discover it had been practically torn in half with the force of his finger in said eye.
However, I'm not sure whose been feeling worse, him or me. Whilst I've been parading the disfigured eye around for the last 48 hours (thank goodness there's an excuse for sunglasses) Frog has been displaying strong signs of guilt. Happily for me, those signs manifest themseslves as flowers, pastries and constant gestures of affection.
Even more luckily my vision is clear and I haven't had any bright lights. But I think now we've stopped we're heading for the doctors tomorrow morning just to doublecheck that the red should be turning a yellowy orange. Because that colour doesn't match the new red bikini I packed.