When I was little, we spent two weeks on a family camping trip in Carnac, Brittany. It rained for a fortnight. Many of our neighbours were flooded out – something I found pretty amusing as a nine-year-old, looking down from the lofty heights of our trailer tent. It was June.
I’ve just come back from a trip to Brittany, and the weather was infinitely better than that summer, when I’d watched bedraggled neighbours wrestling with wet canvas as though they were at Glastonbury.
