Notes from France

Future you needs a week in France to run, write and reflect 

Future you needs Notes from France.

A week of trail running in France.

A week of long dinners around long tables looking longingly at the Pyrenees. 

A week of writing, and reflecting. 

A week for you.

Hosted by runner and poet Josh Lynott and long-form storyteller Tom Reynolds at the sanctuary that is Zero Neuf – a converted farmhouse in the French Pyrenees. Josh has hosted retreats all over the world but the 2026 edition was his first in Europe and was a perfect pause from the relentlessness of daily life. A week of sanctuary in the form of shared daily movement, shared writing and personal development workshops, and shared family-style dinners. 

In 2027, Josh is hosting Notes from France for a second time and this time there are two options 

The workshop programme will be near-identical across the two trips – the main difference is in length. In terms of the number of nights (Retreat One is 5 nights, Retreat Two is 7 nights), but primarily in terms of the weekly running distance (40 km for Retreat 1 + 100 km for Retreat 2) 

RETREAT ONE

RETREAT TWO

Notes from France – In words

A meal shared is a problem halved

I’m sitting on a table outside a cafe in London daydreaming about France. It’s been a busy day. A busy few weeks in fact. As such, I’m finding it hard to immediately find the words to do justice to the beauty of Notes from France. 

It’s autumn now in London. The sun is low in the sky and the shadows are long. Despite the short, stout table I’m sitting on, the long shadows get me thinking about the long outdoor dining table that is our haven at NFF.

It was our place of communal sanctuary. A safe space to write and share. To daydream about the future and lock in on the present. A place to scribble ideas or just a place to quietly stare across the swimming pool in the foreground to the French Pyrenees in the distance. 

Lastly, and perhaps most important of all, it was a place to share meals. Write, run, eat. The perfect trio. I miss it. 

Back in London, with that wistful warmth in my body, I am struck by an involuntary urge when the barista asks me what I’d like to drink.

“An affogato please.”

The barista’s raised eyebrow makes their feelings clear. But I couldn’t care less. I’m locked into a moment of reverence. I’m longing to recreate a feeling. 

How do you convey a feeling? 

How do a few short paragraphs do justice to the warmth of long summer nights around an outdoor table with new friends? 

How do you resurrect the inspiration found through eating well, running well and allowing yourself a moment of retreat and reflection.

For me the answer is two-fold. An age-old Italian tradition (the affogato), and an ancient Welsh word – hwyl. 

Firstly, hwyl. To understand hwyl you first need to understand a little more about Zero Neuf, the converted French farmhouse in which Notes from France is hosted. 

ZN is owned by Joss and Mike Tucker. They met and married in London before ditching their high-pace, high-stress life in the city for the Arieges. 

Joss’ grandmother is French, and she brings all of that Gallic bloodline into every home-cooked, locally-sourced meal you eat at ZN. 

Mike, meanwhile, is the first face you see as you slowly sip your pre-run morning coffee. Before you wake, he’ll have let the animals out, and brought the fresh hen eggs in. He’ll also, likely, have spent a moment thinking wistfully about Wales – the land of his birth.

My mother is from Wales, so I too feel that same, semi-wistful kinship for it. 

The Welsh have a word that has no literal translation, but somehow perfectly sums up the ethos and approach of Notes from France, and of Mike and Joss at ZN.

That word is hwyl. A longing and a love for a place or a moment that is hard to quantify exactly but exists somewhere in the depths of your stomach, and your emotions. 

It’s hard to quantify, and hard to describe. But it’s there, and you carry it with you.   

Hwyl is what we try to create at Notes from France. From Mike’s brew and a gentle run as the sun comes up, to Joss’ puttanesca and pavloca as the sun goes down. 

it’s all hwyl. 

Some small pockets of beauty and meaning in our hectic lives.

Back in London my affogato has arrived. And as I quickly tuck into it I can’t help but think that it too demands top billing alongside hwyl in any attempt to prepare anyone for the magic of Notes from France.  

Not because ice cream makes everything better, which it does. Rather, it was because of the depths of its meaning.

An affogato is a small act of quiet indulgence and beautiful juxtapositions. 

The sharp, heat of the coffee set against the cold, sweetness of the ice cream. 

It’s luxurious but not over the top. It demands you slow down. It insists that you take a moment for yourself and sit and take it in. 

Life is busy. Hot drinks are far-too-often a means to an end. Our to-do list in literal form. Functional and prosaic. 

An affogato is a feeling. It’s an invitation to take a pause in our busy lives. 

A small moment of reflection and beauty in our hectic days. 

2026 has no doubt been a busy year for you I’m sure. 

2027 will likely be the same. And 2028 too. 

So, why should you book a running and writing retreat for 2027? 

Because your head needs a dose of hwyl. 

And your heart really wants an affogato.