Tourist time

This morning the Canadian Smiths and Mr Smith are off to golf. Tempting though it is to stay in bed and read my book followed by a little plunge in the rooftop swimming pool and poolside snooze, I shall walk to the lighthouse, up the 248 steps and be too frightened to look out - I am not great with heights but always forget or feel I will get over it. Then I am to find us an eatery for ce soir. I will never please all the people so I am quite prepared for my choice to be poo pooed due to price or culinary speciality. But he/she doesn't like fish, Spanish, pizza, sausages, garlic ... Or whatever it is. I am pretty easy going as long as vast amounts of alcohol are involved. Oooooh I absolutely love holidays.