Up until the age of about 13, a very large portion of my summers were always spent on the Atlantic Coast of France, where my family has a quaint bungalow within 5 minutes walk from the longest beach in Europe. Take a look at France on Google maps and you’ll see that to the west of Bordeaux is the long expanse of sand (approx. 100km apparently), and it’s just there that we have our house. The fact that it’s so long means there’s an infinite amount of space, and you can easily find a stretch of beach will absolutely no one on it. The nearest village is a 15 minute walk away down the beach, and there are stables nearby to go riding in the waves.

         Beyond the age of 13 I got wanderlust and wanting to see other parts of the world. The bungalow we have was perfect for us as children, because it was such a safe area and we could play around on the beach and in the forest to our heart’s content. But once I grew up I got bored of the same old same old, even if it was an absolutely fabulous place to go.

         This image is actually not typical of the area, as there are remarkably few rocks anywhere along the beach. But the colours are simply superb! I’ll always hold it dear in my heart, even if I barely ever go there anymore.