France, Writing, and the Caterpillar from James and the Giant Peach

I've just got back from the south of France, and it appears at a good time, too. I stopped off in lovely hotel in Dolancourt, just east of Troyes, on the way back, and the weather report showed lots of grey clouds and rain all over the country. Literally blanketing the place. It rained the whole way back until the white cliffs themselves, and now, as I sit here writing this, it's beautiful and sunny in England.

(It's probably beautiful and sunny in France now, too, but it's nice to pretend it's not.)

It was a good holiday. I treated it as a writing retreat, where I could at least, and am now the proud owner of one picture book manuscript, one children's book manuscript, and one other children's book WIP that I'm thoroughly excited about, which is about half way done. All of them are first drafts, of course, which means there's still a lot of work to do, but it's exciting stuff.

France is a beautiful country. I love the way you can be driving along, and you'll suddenly see an 8^th century castle up on a great, craggy mountain. Or a buzzard sitting on a fence, watching the cars speed by. There's also a lot of awesome Roman influence all over the place. I was strolling through Frejus, and saw these chaps on either side of a random door:

It's also a country of astonishing and very interesting wildlife. I found this dude in my swimming pool:

A caterpillar so big he could have come straight from James and the Giant Peach. He was right at the bottom of the pool, and it looked for all the world like he was dead. But a little sun restored life into the gooey limbs, and he soon wandered off. I think he made a full recovery. Unless he got eaten by a bird or carried away by ants or something. That could also explain the disappearance.

There is also a vast lizard army in France. They sometimes emerge when it's sunny, and sometimes emerge at night. There was a whopper above my table at a pizzeria munching on the moths that were brave or foolish enough to fly too close.

And the scenery is so fantastic that you get sights that you just can't get in the rolling, flat lands of England. The Gorges Du Verdon was amazing. Here is me looking down at the river, and although I don't think the picture quite does justice to how high it really is, you can get an idea. Pretty cool stuff:

Yes, it was a good time. And to wrap it all up, I came back to the news that my short story for kids, What Do Dogs Dream Of?, came third in its competition on Smories.com. So now, on its way in the post, is my very first cheque for a story! I've never had a pay cheque for writing before – it's always been electronic.

I'm tempted to frame it.