I’m in the final few days of my time on the Île de Ré, and have only partially mastered the art of doing nothing without worrying about it. Clearly, more practice is required. Yet the insistence of normality is already building in my mind.
My partner and I first came here two years ago. We always intended to return to this small island off the Atlantic coast. Some places feel finished when you leave them. Others instil an intuitive hold on you, to the point that to not return would somehow be a betrayal.
The island is connected to France by an impressive, curved bridge that opened in 1988.
