A full table

At the end of a full day. 
With the Artist-who-shall-not-be-named (and whose-face-cannot be seen) and his family, and my family. And it was all so easy. Ten years ago, the place would have been a scene of mayhem, and destruction, and cries, and flying snot and overflowing nappies. 
Nowadays we have a chat and a couple of glasses of wines, and we don't see or hear the kids for a few hours, and when they come back, they've made a film. A pretty decent one too. 
There was kayaking, and the Artist-who-shall-not-be-named got his arse a bit wet, but he had his swimming togs on, and that was a pretty rare sight. Then there was some sea swimming at the Vico, and it was great, just choppy enough to make it fun. Then there was some champagne to celebrate the new job, and lovely cheeses at room temperature, and pinot noir, and pâté de sanglier, and boeuf bourguifusion with home made gnocchi, and tarte aux mirabelles. 
A good day.