all is quiet as I tap out this blog. The girls sleep soundly next door. Carolyn gurgles and softly snores. And Misty my faithful yet crusty cat is at the end of my bed, staring at me. No purr. No look of love in her dripping eyes. She knows we are off on holiday. And she is not ruddy happy. Carolyn twitches hard and Misty continues to stare. I point a reptilian toe in her direction and she swipes! Hard! I pull back shocked. Carolyn stirs, swallows, grunts and falls back to sleep.
I have just finished packing. Before that I took a shower and shaved the areas the VEET hair removal cream did not find. My inner thigh resembles a bad case of eczema. And my Brazilian a crop circle of psoriasis.
Earlier today I checked out my swimming attire. I eventually found my bikini. I slipped into the off white bottoms and I could see my raggedy hairs popping through the worn out material. The sight repulsed me and I flung them onto the floor. I then squeezed into my black Adidas swimming costume. As I pulled each strap over my shoulder it pulled tightly up my bottom, it was painful as I walked like John Wayne over to the mirror.
I feared for my Father Giles and removed it. Clearly I would have to purchase another bathing costume in Spain. And most probably some anusol – just in case.
So here I lay. Sore. Nivea cream over my red bits. Still Being stared at by that furry fucker sitting at the end of my bed. And furious that the moment I fall asleep it will be time to get up as some daft plonker booked a silly o’clock flight from Gatwick. Ruddy Gatwick. I hate the place.
Night night. I’ll be back before you can say Is It really 03.30am in the fucking morning?
Misty my faithful yet crusty cat has stepped in her own shit. My morning thus far has been spent locating and cleaning the shit paw prints that adorn my duvet, carpet and ruddy sofa trying to catch the furry fucker before the children become diseased! What fukkery is this?
I was rudely awoken at 5.30am, the kids were hungry and so our day started. Avis were sending a taxi at 08.30am to pick us all up and take to Bordeaux airport. We would probably arrive at the airport at 11am and then hang around until our flight home – at 6pm!! I heard Jolyon grunt and wheeze and once dressed we all went down into the kitchen for our final breakfast. Mum seemed very happy to help us pack as she hopped around the kitchen, pouring coffee and telling us what a fabulous day it was going to be!! The twins actually ate some bread, Carolyn was just happy to be leaving but Jolyon was not. He was ill again and did not want to go home as the sky was blue, and for the first time since arriving in France, it was going to be a sunny day!
By 7.30am all our bags were packed and outside the front door. We all sat around the little plastic table and drank our final coffee. At 8am a little black car turned into our drive, we all looked at the car, at each other, and then at the car. The chap got out and looked at us, our bags, our kids, and then his car. He was driving a small family Skoda. He had no baby seats. No room at all for us all, he told us it was illegal for him to drive us to the airport. But he did say they had a 7-seater taxi at his depot and that we could hire it to take us to the airport. It would cost about 300 Euros. He gave us his company details and then got back into his car and drove away. Jolyon was having a minor asthma attack and Mum was screaming at him to remove the cigarette from his mouth to enable him to breath. I sat back down and contemplated my first cigarette in 6 years while Carolyn strolled back into the house to call Avis.
Ten minutes later Carolyn emerged from the sitting room, a smile on her face. She had called Avis, who had called the taxi office and between them they had arranged for another taxi, with 7 seats and boosters for the twins to pick us up at 2.30 and take us to the airport. HURRAH!! We screamed. It was getting really warm now, and at the end of Mums road we could see the market being set up, it consisted of a fish stall and a vegetable stall. Jolyon decided to walk off his asthma attack and me, Carolyn and the girls decided to walk into the village. It was only 08.30am but we had time to relax and even have a bite of lunch before the taxi arrived. Things were looking good.
We pushed the pram passed the local bar and I heard the familiar coughing and wheezing of my brother. I popped my head in and saw Jolyon knocking back his coffee cognac!! It was 08.30am. He said it was medicinal. We grabbed a table outside in the sun and ordered coffee. Jolyon ordered another cognac, just to see if a second one would do the trick. It didn’t. The market was set up in the square – they had no customers. Feeling a bit sorry for them Jolyon purchased a kilo of prawns for lunch. I purchased something green and frizzy from a woman with a small moustache at the vegetable stall. At 09.45am it was getting really hot. Jolyon announced he was going to the supermarket to buy some wine for lunch. At 10.30am Jolyon uncorked the bottle to ‘breathe’. As our noses became redder and redder, Jolyon did something quite odd. He took off his jacket. He had not taken off his jacket for the entire trip to France. He rolled up his sleeves and decided it was time to pour the wine. He asked Mum to prepare the prawn salad lunch. By 1pm Jolyon was clearly pissed. I was sunburnt, Carolyn was reading some awful Henry 8th book and the girls were getting tired. It had been a long morning and we just wanted the taxi to arrive and take us to the airport. Jolyon was grunting that he was ill and sure he had sunstroke!
At 2.30 our chariot arrived, a monster of a car driven by a lovely French lady. We said our goodbyes and piled into the car. We made it to Bordeaux. We made it onto the plane.
As we guzzled down our gin & tonic, the moans from Jolyon and Carolyn as the pressure build up in our ears grew more fierce. I dug around in my pocket for my Extra Strong Mints and handed them around. We finally landed in windy Gatwick. Jolyon rushed off to collect his luggage leaving me and Carolyn carrying the girls and all the changing bags.
Outside the North Terminal we were met by our meet & greet company and said our goodbyes to Jolyon who was now on his 2nd cigarette waiting for Mr Thomas to collect him.
As we drove home I thought how fucking awful our trip had been. Of course there were good bits, seeing my Mother and having the family around her on her 70th Birthday. But apart from that, so much illness, so much vomit. And such bad luck.
I sucked on another mint and thanked Gawd our next trip abroad wasn’t until July when we plan to be in Greece for the wedding of the year. And what a fantabulous wedding that was Patsy & Pedders!
One more day to go I thought as I walked downstairs into the kitchen. I heard Jolyon coughing and wheezing outside, a cigarette in one hand and his ventilator in another. He announced he was not very well, that he felt ‘broken’ and needed to walk it off around the lakes. He grabbed his cigarettes and ventilator and proceeded to march through the village like Captain Mannering on a mission. I was also feeling pretty horrid and after a strong coffee and some croissant I lay down on Mum’s bed to rest. Because of her broken leg & ankle (another story) she had made up a small bed downstairs. Her kindly neighbours also gave her a pulley to lift herself in and out of bed and a Zimmer frame!! Her sitting room and dining room resembled a hospital ward.
An hour or so into my rest I heard Jolyon march into the kitchen announcing he was feeling much better and could he now order scrambled eggs on toast and coffee. Clearly he had forgotten Mum was practically crippled, and I made it known to him by screaming from my sick bed what a lazy git he was and he should cook it himself!! I then fell back to sleep until I was rudely awoken by the girls who decided it was rather fun to stick their little fingers up my nose. At this point I realised I would never get any rest and got up. Somebody had to ring Avis to arrange for a taxi to collect us and take us back to Bordeaux airport tomorrow. The number on the Avis contract was dead and I had to call their Paris office. After 20 minutes of holding and listening to various recorded messages I was beginning to get very annoyed. At last I was put through to Shona who assured me a taxi would arrive at our house at 08.30am, it would be big enough for 3 adults and 2 children, and also have child seats.
Our flight was 6pm, but we just wanted to get to the airport and Avis were not willing to send a taxi any later in the day. Relieved that we were all sorted Carolyn and me took the girls for a walk around the one small supermarket in the village – Maxi! It was closed. So we walked back to Mum’s and watched Dickinsons Deal with Jolyon.
That evening we all decided to hit the hay early in order to be ready for the taxi. It had been a nice day, at least Carolyn and the twins were feeling better. As I closed the shutters I could hear Jolyon coughing and wheezing below. He was sitting in his little plastic chair outside the kitchen having his final fag and snifter. Mum’s pulley was slowly placing her head on her pillow and the girls were grunting like a couple of piglets. One more sleep to go and then off home.
The hire car was not safe to drive and we didn’t want to get a taxi all the way back to Perigeaux to collect another one from the AVIS office. We called Mum and she sent ENO to pick us up. Eno is Mum’s companion. He is Danish, he likes to drink red wine, smoke B&H and talk very loudly, and very rudely. His Gold car pulled up and Eno got out of the car, walked into the house and told us to get in. We followed him like lost little ducklings. We had to fit 3 suitcases, a double pram, the twins, and us three into his car. As we drove out of Kate’s hamlet, with the double pram sticking out of the boot, a suitcase in the back seat in between me and Carolyn, a twin on our knees and Jolyon in the front, I wondered if this was a good idea. Eno had clearly been drinking. The journey was long and bumpy; we were driving through the dog end of France with its winding roads and empty villages. Eno was driving too fast. The radio was playing Brown Girl in the Ring, and I really wanted to get out and walk. Every half hour Eno would announce the exact amount of Kilometres we had to go before arriving at Mum’s house. 2 hours later we arrived, shaken, car sick, but alive. Mum opened the door and we could smell the mince and garlic bubbling in the pan. Jolyon poured himself a drink whilst we all went up to bed. It had been a long day and we were shattered. As I fell into a deep sleep, I could hear Jolyon, Mum and Eno drinking and laughing in the kitchen. It was a good sound. I was delightfully comfortable in our big French bed and just as sleep came my way Vivien started crying, followed by Ruby. And then Eno’s voice got louder and louder from below and my Mother started speaking with a lisp (this happens after a few bottles). And just as I thought it couldn’t get any louder, I heard Jolyon bang the toilet door shut and hum Jerusalem as he sat on his throne for 26 minutes.
Please God let us all sleep! Only tomorrow and then we go home.
With an aching head I made my way through the sitting room to the bathroom. Both brothers and the dog Pudsy were flat out on the sofa. A half drunk bottle of brandy on the table, and a smell so vile I retched. Once up we made our way back into Exideuil to the restaurant to meet Mum for a hearty bread breakfast. Carolyn had had a terrible night (again) and she and the girls had still not eaten solids since we arrived in France so we made a visit to the doctor on route. Kate made a list in French of all Carolyn’s problems to give to the doctor. In France you just drop in and wait to be seen, then pay. After half an hour Carolyn emerged with a folder of prescriptions to take to the pharmacy. I asked her what was wrong, she had no idea, she couldn’t understand the Doctor! After a rather disappointing breakfast – due to us all feeling shit – we kissed Mum goodbye. With a broken leg and ankle and clutching her cards and flowers, we waved goodbye as she hobbled into Eno’s (her Dutch companion) car on route to her home outside Limoges. We planned to drive there that afternoon once we had taken the car to the garage for a quick check over and get the wheels balanced. We all rushed back to Kate’s house to pack. We were really excited to be staying with Mum for a few days. The cases were in the kitchen. The twins were all packed up and Carolyn had managed not to throw up for an hour, things were looking good. Until Jolyon rang to say the mechanic could not allow us to drive the car as it was a death trap. He needed to order a part which ‘may’ arrive tomorrow. It was raining. We all felt terrible and we were stranded. Kate and Serge’s house was in a small Hamlet in the middle of nowhere. They were working so could not help us. The twins started to cry. Carolyn rushed to the toilet. I poured a small wine and Jolyon announced he hated France and the French.
Mum arrived at the bar at 6pm. Kate, Serge (her husband) and the kids met her and wished her Happy Birthday. I had spoken to her a week earlier explaining that we would call her when she arrived at the Bar, little did she know we would be outside in the car park when we made the call. At 6.15pm I called her to wish her a very Happy Birthday. She was delighted I called, but then I told her Vivien was sick and put the phone down on her. As we did that, we all got out of the car and walked into the bar just as Mother was furiously explaining to Kate that I had put the phone down on her. And on her Birthday as well!! We all walked in and sang Happy Birthday – she was gobsmacked!! She stood up to welcome us, tears in her eyes. The twins were quite scared at this moment and clung to my leg. Jolyon had said a quick hello to Mum and gone to the bar. And then to Mum’s shock our other brother Jesse who we very rarely see walked in and at this time we thought Mother may have another heart attack, or fall off her crutch. Thankfully she remained on her good leg to greet him. We drank and laughed in the bar before eating in the restaurant. By this time Ruby had gone a strange colour. As we sat down at the long table Ruby decided to vomit on Carolyn, me and the table, just missing my prawn cocktail. Carolyn also began to feel very sick again and announced she was heading home with the kids. I felt I should stay at the party to help make the B52s and also sample the delightful red wines on offer. It was a lovely evening. Mother was made up and over the moon to be staying in the Bridal Suite at the hotel.
At midnight we watched Mum and her crutch stagger to the Hotel . I don’t recall how I got home but I do remember it being a fantastic evening.
As I pulled away from the toilet and wiped my mouth I remembered that we were meeting Mum for breakfast at 9am and then driving to her house for 2 days. I couldn’t wait. And then I threw up again.
Our evening at Kate’s was hectic and stressful, but fun. There were 5 adults, 2 children,3 babies and Pudsey the dog in a 3 bedroomed house. Thankfully Jolyon was able to sleep where he passed out. We were cooked a duck and drank some fine red wine. Our only concern was when the phone rang and we all had to suddenly keep quiet just in case Mother rang and found out we were in France. Unfortunately the phone rang quite a few times that evening and when the kids answered it we had to fight them for the phone. After much crying, musical statues and in Jolyon’s case, fisty cuffs, it was time to sleep.
We had arrived at my sister’s restaurant all in one piece, apart from the car. We all stumbled out and gathered our belongings. By the time we had reached the bar Jolyon was ordering his second Bordeaux Superior (Grand). Relief and happiness soon turned into dismay (the car was fucked, we were 450 Euros down and we needed to get it fixed again so we could drive on to Mothers after the surprise party). The plan was to stay with her for a few days and then drive back to Bordeaux to catch the flight home. The twins had now reached an alarmingly high temperature and were refusing all food. Carolyn was the same. My head was pounding and Jolyon had coughed again. But my sister Kate was delighted we had made it and fetched us food and drink before we all headed to her home for a good kip. On route to Kate’s we picked up our Niece and Nephew (Hannah and Thomas) from school much to Jolyons annoyance. He didn’t want to see any more children that day and refused to speak to any of them. Jolyon then descended into a man strop for the journey home and didn’t speak to any of us. Was our plan to give our Mother the ‘Mother’ of all heart attacks going to work? Would the Miller family be united in France for her 70th? Would Carolyn stop throwing up? Would Ruby & Vivien feel better? Was I coming down with something as well? Mother’s surprise Party was tomorrow evening and she had no idea we were in France. Gawd Bless Her. I sucked hard on my mint and prayed!
I feared for my Father Giles and removed it. Clearly I would have to purchase another bathing costume in Spain. And most probably some anusol – just in case.
myfamilyandothermillers 