The Big Pom

I probably like a pomegranate more than the next girl.

When I was little and living in Oman, we used to visit a village called Wakan, perched up high on the edge of the jauntily named Gubrah Bowl. (I've just Googled Wakan and slightly wish I hadn't ... the stony pathway up through the apricots, dates and pomegranates didn't used to have a handrail and neat steps or - heaven forfend - a tourist office...) My very favourite photo of my parents was taken under a powder-puff bower of pink pomegranate blossom above Wakan. I remember lining up the shot and saying please smile nicely. My Dad is super tanned and sporting his very own eternal brand of khaki-on-khaki chic and Mum is rocking a Pentax, an Hermes scarf and Jesus sandals. That photo has sat on my bedside table since I was 9.

Poor old Persephone always piqued my sympathy where most women in Greek myths left me cold. Who can resist a pomegranate, right? I think she did pretty well to stop at six seeds. If I'd been as hungry as she was, we definitely wouldn't have a Spring or a Summer.

Anyway, imagine my delight when I discovered that the name of my favourite fruit only means Apple of Granada!

And the people in charge really know how to celebrate their apple... it's all over the place.

What's going on here?

Is this turning into some kind of travel blog? Do you still have a job? Or are you just swanning about these days taking photos of a random selection of pale pink Berlinscapes and shells sloshing about on sandy white beaches?

Well you may ask.

I have got a job but I didn't for a whole 5 weeks in March and April and it was wonderful.

Here's the beginning of a lovely week in Granada with Federica, Joshua and their perfect treasure of a baby, Maya. The first almond blossoms were out, someone was learning to walk, I was learning to make vegetarian sushi (coated in rosemary blossoms) and the sun was warm but not burning.

A little bit of heaven

Although it's only 2 weeks since we got back, I actually found it a weeny bit painful looking back at these photos. Life was tough in the Indian Ocean. Which book shall I read today? Am I hot enough to justify having a swim even though it'll mean that I have to reapply my sun cream? Is it a pina colada or a daquiri kind of day? Is the sea sparkly enough to require a polariser lense?

Yup... it was a turquoise, sandy, shelly, sunny nightmare from start to finish.