With James on a school geography trip to Iceland, and Will (supposedly) mid-A-Level revision, Eddie and I decided a trip away a deux was long overdue. At home we have a painting of Honfleur depicting the harbour as it would have been around two hundred years or so ago. Working out we could book Brittany Ferries from Portsmouth to Caen, and then it’s only a 30 minute drive to Honfleur, it was a done deal to pay our painting a visit.

We booked a cabin and took the 11pm ferry from Portsmouth which got us into Caen at 6.45am. There’s something about the overnight ferry and a cabin that makes me feel as though the holiday’s started even before I’ve got there. Plus I got the top bunk (I don’t think that’ll ever not be a thing). Early doors and fueled by a ferry-fantastic fry-up, we took the coast road along through Deauville and Trouville to Honfleur.

Accommodation

I’d found us a compact and bijou loft to stay in on airbnb which took up the second two floors of an old fisherman’s cottage. You could squeeze four into the space, but it was perfect for the two of us. The streets in Honfleur are narrow and cobbled, and in our case there was no parking outside, but we could park for free only ten minutes walk down the road which worked fine. Our host Muriel met us outside with a temporary park so we could offload the luggage without having to walk through town with it. She was really friendly, and a font of recommendations for places to visit and restaurants to try. There’s nothing worse than going away and having disappointing meals, so her suggestions were gratefully received, noted and tried.

Food and drink

The downside to getting into Honfleur so early, was that our check-in wasn’t until 3pm, so our first day was spent feeling pretty frazzled and without a base. Fortunately we were sustained by double Americanos in La Maison Bleu, which became our ‘local’ for the week when it came to coffees and sharpeners. Not recommended for food, however, we had a very mediocre petit dejeuner there; burnt croissant and dessicated baguette with butter so hard it cracked rather than spread. Liquid refreshment only.

Lunch at Le Corsaire was excellent. Six huitres, moules frites and a cidre set us up for the afternoon. With Muriel’s recommended restaurants saved on the phone, we tried L’homme du Bois for supper which was absolutely stonking and not to be missed! Foie gras, coquilles st jacques, fromage and creme brulee for me. Eddie the same, except he had oysters again to start and the most incredible steak for his main. A pair of twenty-five year old Calvados for digestifs and we waddled home. Me more than Eddie – don’t take heels to Honfleur. The cobbles are not kind.

Our second day was wild and windy, and we opted for takeaway pizzas to eat at the loft for lunch. Il Parasole did not disappoint. Delicious! Having defrosted, we headed out for sharpeners at Le Maison Bleu, then supper at Le Bistro du Port, getting out of the wind and into a warm restaurant. With the exception of a brief domestic over how to eat a crab, and a waiter who seemed very disappointed to have been lumped with the Brits, it was another standout supper.

On our last day, we meandered through Le Jardin de Tripot, stopping at Le Maison de Tripot for breakfast/brunch. Tucked away in a small side street and overlooking the garden, this was a highlight. The most esquisite breakfast you can imagine; smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, croissants, jam and baguette washed down with cups of black coffee, a glass of apple juice (for me) and pear juice (pour lui). I think if we could, we’d have stayed there all day. Later that afternoon, the sun shone for us, and while we waited for the Gallery Chaye to open, we sat outside looking across the harbour, our pale blue skins soaking up long-forgotten rays, and drank ice cold Leffes.

Now, for dinner. We went to L’Escale, another recommendation. High end and we were excited to try it. Dolled up and ready for great things, we’d just started on a Kir Royale and Gin & Tonic respectively, when a family came in tugging along a giant fluffy dog on the end of a rope. The smell of wet dog hit us like a spanner in the face. The creature and its owners proceeded to plonk themselves unceremoniously down on the floor and at the table respectively. It seems that in France, as in England, dogs are everywhere, under every table in every bar and restaurant. But when you’re spending quite a bit of money, effort and time to go out for a special meal, I resent having to share my space with a bloody dog. And I also don’t understand why people seem to have given up making any effort with their appearance. Is loungewear the new standard look whether you’re watching TV, walking your dog or going out for supper? Apparently so given the effort, or lackthereof, of the other restaurant clientele.

From Honfleur home

An eyewateringly early start at 6am to catch the 8.30am ferry from Ouistreham home. No cabin this time, but another fry-up and a recliner in the lounge meant we could get some sleep before we got into Portsmouth at 1.30pm. We were home by 3pm, washing on and a quick turnaround to collect James whose coach came in from his trip to Iceland at 4pm. Seamless!

For a quiet break where you don’t have to drive or fly miles, where the food is good and the people friendly, you can’t go far wrong with Honfleur. The only time we left the town, was to drive a couple of miles out to LeClerk to stock up on cheese and wine. Other than that there was plenty to keep us occupied without needing to drive or visit anywhere else. And for us, that’s rare!

Now when I look at my painting, I can say I’ve finally visited beautiful Honfleur, and given the chance, I’d be back again in a heartbeat.