Jerome and his girlfriend

Who said Easter is for kids? Someone’s obviously very pleased about her Easter bunnies!

There are some things that the French do really well. Dessert is one of them.

When Matthew was promised he could pose next to a bunny, he had the ‘Playboy’ variety in mind…

Family holidays and boredom are uneasy bedfellows. Which is why practical jokes were invented. Against the pleading of his girlfriend, and with the full encouragement of his mother and sister, the sleeping Jerome proved too tempting a target to resist. Sleeping Jerome + iced water = ???

The moment of the attack!

The aftermath!

Oh how we laughed. It’s worth every moment of the (almost certain) repercussions of the best man’s speech.

Easter morning and I couldn’t sleep, probably a result of overindulgence the night before and the silly round pillows that the French seem to insist on. So I headed out to explore the town before sunrise.

My favourite discovery was a road named ‘Grand Rue’ – an alleyway winding through the town that was no more than 1.5m wide.

We went to Easter Mass at the Abbaye de la Celle, just beside the hotel and where we be getting married in September. We learned a few things about the abbey – most importantly, bring a sweater! It’s very cold inside.

We also met with priest who will be marrying us. He’s quite young and seems very friendly – he spent seven years in Mexico and a year in the US, and he’s quite excited to do some of the service in English. I must admit, I was a little taken aback when this monk, wearing his grey wool habit, pulled out a Palm Pilot to verify dates. Never let it be said that the Catholic Church is backwards, at least not technologically.

Saturday morning we were up early to visit the town hall in Roquebrune, where we need to submit all of our paperwork for our civil ceremony. Part of the process is an interview with the mayor (or his delegate) to ensure that the marriage is genuine and to go over all the details for the day.

We were met by the adjunct mayor, a generously proportioned woman with an apparent predilection for sunshine and a disdain for soap. She was our first real brush with the French etat, and represented everything that is bad about the civil service in France. With little genuine power but a keen desire to demonstrate her importance, she decided to throw impediment after impediment in our way. “I’m not sure it’s possible” was her favourite response, and her interpretation of the laws governing marriage changed with the wind.

It was not the most positive meeting I’ve ever had. She seemed unimpressed when I asked whether it would be easier to elope to Las Vegas. I suspect Guantanamo detainees are treated with more respect than she afforded us.

The trauma of the town hall behind us, we headed to a much more agreeable lunch by the port in Frejus – moules frites washed down with a couple of beers. After a brief stop to look at some decorations for the wedding, we were off to Brignoles for a quick chat with the woman coordinating the details at the chateau and a champagne tasting – and then on to ‘test drive’ the hotel and restaurant at the Abbaye de la Celle.

The hotel was absolutely beautiful, with genuinely warm service and a lovely room with our own private garden. We were greeted with two glasses of wine from the vineyard in the back. After we’d settled in, we went into the Alain Ducasse restaurant and had a lovely dinner of asparagus with kumquat sauce, grilled fish with roast potatoes, caramelised pork with stir-fried vegetables, cheese, and a chocolate fondant. The food lived up to the hype – it was a lovely evening. Stuffed to the seams, we trundled off to bed.