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When the birds and the bees come to dragon-flies

Throw yourself back to the 70's and listen to little girls singing Abba songs, with Mama Mia CD in car - at top of their voices, with water bottles as mics. Marvel at how they know all the words. But realise that, actually, you know them all too.

On the way down a long, bend-strewn road, to canoeing.

Then picture this -

26 deg warm ... little girl, sun cream basted, bit of a reluctant water rat, tooth still wobbly ... singing songs at the top of her voice - a bit of Adele and Michael Buble, some Flanders and Swan, a little Les Mis; just the river, ancient cliffs, and trees as audience ... learning how to paddle the canoe - cut into the water and pull ... marvelling at the speedy water skaters and the electric blue dragon flies (oblivious to the fact that they are all engaged in a mass dragon-fly copulation-fest) ... complaining about the heat ... and in charge of the picnic (apricots and cinnamon cake).







Pretty successful expedition down the Veserre (?sp), but certain that she doesn't want to do the eight hour trip down the Dordogne, tomorrow.

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