A card, more than a year old surfaces in the clearout of a desk. There is baby Julie, born on February 23rd, 1999 at 16.45 hours, weighing just 3.270 kg. And equally stimulating to those who know them, there is an infant picture of the mother Pascale, born January 30th, 1969 and the father (October 12th, 1968), but not their weights. He is now a formidable six-footer. Lovely idea. It may be a common practice in France or indeed elsewhere, but it brought back to two expectant holidaymakers that they will hopefully see all three before the summer season is quite out. For the home of the three is a hotel in the Pyrenees Orientales. On the seashore with waves lapping 50 yards from your bedroom, in one of the sunniest, driest corners of Mediterranean France.
In Ireland that area became known recently as the home of the late Patrick O'Brian, the great romancier of Napoleonic sea warfare, who was seen on television being interviewed at his long-time home in Collioure, there in the heart of Catalan France. You saw him in his garden with his vines and briefly in a fishing boat. For fishing is a big part of the life around there, as is wine-making. The most obvious fishing around Collioure has long been known for anchovies, now unfortunately in decline. Still delectable when eaten, not canned but a couple of days after being caught and salted. Many other good fish around: loup de mer or bass on the menu. You can enjoy, in late August and after, on the streets even, purple-dusted nuts lying on the ground. The seeds of the Pinus pinea, or stone pine or umbrella pine. Crack them open and you have the pine kernels eaten with zest as confectionery, as decoration to cakes, etc. Collioure is perhaps best known as the town where the painters of the school of Fauvism, Matisse, Derain, Dufy and others were captivated by the light and the antiquity of the place. There is the 12th century Royal Castle of the Knights Templar, former summer residence of the Kings of Majorca - not far out to sea.
Lovely valleys running inland from what is called the Cote Vermeille. If the Little Yellow Train is still running from Perpignan, you can mount to a high plateau and a whole change of scenery, where, in winter, skiing is the thing. Sun, sea, food, wine and history. Further: this was the country of the would-be breakaway Christian sect the Albigensians of the 13th century, whose incredibly precariously sited defensive castles top the spiky mountains, and draw huge crowds of tourists.