I f you’ve ever watched 2016’s Bad Moms, starring Mila Kunis, you may remember a certain scene in a supermarket. Set to Icona Pop’s ‘I don’t care ..
. I love it’, it shows three over-worked, under-appreciated mothers storming the aisles of a supermarket being, in turns, suggestive, raucous, aggressive and frankly terrifying. At the checkout, one of them fondles an oversized saucisson in the face of a male cashier.
There were no such antics on a recent girls’ – indeed, ‘moms’ – trip to Moliets-et-Maa, located about an hour north of Biarritz . In the supermarket we were all too busy stocking up on rosé, cheeses, radishes (to be eaten raw and salted) and pâté – all served, grazing-style, on the outdoor table by the pool of our villa. It was a celebration, of sorts.
None of us knew whether we’d be wailing in a corner or crowing from the rooftops when results came out in a few weks – but for now, at least, the stress of A-Levels was over. As a group of women who met when our now-18-year-olds were four, we’ve formed friendships beyond the school gate, becoming invested in each other’s children, as well as in each other. Together, we’ve been through the bake sales, the seasonal plays, and the sports days.
The birthday parties and sleepovers, the romances, rows and revision. So although a few of us have been on holiday together before, it’s always been with our children. Wholesomeness has reigned, albeit with a few post-kids’ bedtime wines.
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