All things North

It's weird how we choose a photo to represent our day.  

It could have been the one of a sunlit valley in the high pyrennees with a deep blue sky above and, foreground, a herd of belled cows.

It could have been the one of our three passprts (Irish, French, British) as we approached the Andorran border.

It could have been the one of Bernie emerging entirely brown from a cowpat swamp at the botttom of a mountain.

It could have been Tierna and Gabby with their arms around each other on the terrace of a café, or the photo of the shopping list I wrote out on a paper napkin; Washing up liquid, toilet paper, Gauloises, gin, Ricard.


At some beautiful moment the wind shifted and turned the arrow towards the North.  The temperature dropped and the mountains around us disappeared.