A little about me.
Just what is the normal habitat of a travel writer? Trudging from five-star to five-star, whooshing down ski slopes, splashing round azure blue waters. Lovely though that is, there comes a time when stretching oneself ought to mean more than an intermediate Pilates class.
Mooo-ve over decadence, here comes pastoral bliss.
This summer I have thrown away my blow dryer, cancelled my Netflix, and vowed to stop complaining about the thread count on my sheets.
This is The Life of a Bovine Au Pair.
HAPPY CANADA DAY!!
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