Pandemic lockdown #11: in which we visit many more dead people

I have been doing some serious writing for work and am tired by the middle of the day and in need of a break in the outside air. The weather is still unbelievably beautiful here. Poppy and Ivy and I walked into Ferney and visited the local cemetery, next to Voltaire’s house.

Voltaire is not buried there, as there was a wee problem with taxes he owed and his body being stolen and similar. More on this later.

Everything is starting to burst into bloom, which makes our current situation slightly more bearable, but also so astonishingly odd.

The French are always celebrated for their sense of style and elegance, but I am here to tell you, their cemeteries are full of kitsch.

The cemetery is divided up into families, children, those killed in the wars, and other groups.

We paid homage to those who died for France, especially those in the Resistance.

My girls enjoyed the outing. I enjoyed being with them and those who went before us.


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