Center Parcs – Tarzan, Piss and Tattooed Grannies

I slept soundly and felt very refreshed. Carolyn had not. Nor had the kids. Today we were going swimming. I dug out my old costume and put my panties over my costume so as not to forget them. Carolyn was still feeling quite ill. The girls were arguing over some crappy Peppa Pig toy and I just wanted to get the fuck out of here. I herded the girls outside and mounted the rickshaw. I fell off. I remounted and off we went. Carolyn rode her own mountain bike. I was a little jealous as I looked and felt a prize prat wobbling through the forest with my ginger ninjas screaming Giddy Up from the back. I ignored the smiles from passing parents and instead picked up pace and headed to the Dome of Stench!

It was busy, kids all over the place, frantic mothers rushing around looking for changing rooms. Fathers wishing they were anywhere but here. Wet floors, humid, chlorine smelling with a hint of cheap perfume. We entered the changing rooms and found somewhere to get changed. We could barely move, we had packed enough bags for a trip around Europe! Our ‘family changing room’ was a hot little shit hole in a cluster of shit holes within a dome full of shits. I so wanted to get the hell out. The girls were crying. Carolyn wanted to puke, and I was having a hot flush. I removed my outer layer and announced I was ready. I walked with my head held high, holding in my stomach, clutching the girls, as we made our way towards the pool. We walked passed a mirror and it was then I realised I was still wearing my panties over my costume! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!

I held in my tummy and waded into the pool of piss. Children were splashing around me, I pushed passed them to try and get to the deep end. There was no deep end. I swam around the mayhem when an almighty loud Tarzan call came over the loudspeakers. I swallowed a mouthful of warm water as suddenly the pool was full of ferocious waves. I was hit by a tidal wave so strong it pushed me into the shallower end. I wiped away the snot and pulled my costume out of my bottom and swam towards a small cave. Some stairs took me to a hidden hot tub outside. I swam out of the tub and followed an elderly granny into the outside pool, the current suddenly grabbed my ankles and before I could cry ruddy flipping hell I was being dragged down the white water rapids that circle the plaza. I screamed as I was plunged into waters so violent I thought I would drown. Just as I thought it could not get any worse I was thrust down a 20 foot slide and landed with my legs wrapped around the head of the poor granny I had seen earlier. Dear God in Heaven. I apologised profusely. She struggled to get out, I watched and noticed the rose tattoo on her arm. Mmmmmmm I felt no remorse at all after seeing that. Granny’s should not have tattoos! No ruddy way!

Center Parcs, The Dome and my Farmer Giles

Center Parcs – getting our bearings

We put the girls in their pram and walked. We had no idea where. The roads were busy with prams and bikes and happy looking families. I hated them all. After ten mins we noticed the rather large Dome. It smelt of food, chlorine and baby shit. Hundreds of bikes and trikes and trailers and prams were padlocked to railings around it. There was also a wild white water rapids stream running very fast around the outer edge in full view of everybody. I knew I was not going to like this. I popped another mint in my mouth and we walked into the stench dome! Our aim was to find Cafe Rouge, order food and wine, find a supermarket and go back to the lodge. Then park the car. Easy.

It was big and busy, with huge palm trees, a kind of sub tropical ‘Oracle’. Small streams ran through the plaza, housing the fattest koi carp I have ever seen. We hurried through the supermarket and stopped in the booze aisle. Pia d’Or, Lindemans, Blossom ruddy Hill. I eyeballed each and every bottle and decided they were all pants. I was gutted. As a non drinker Carolyn had no sympathy and hurried me out. I grabbed a small bottle of Peroni Beer on route and cradled it like a new born. Cafe Rouge was shut, however Hucks American Burger joint was about to open – how delightful! Hound Dog was playing loudly as we were seated in the empty restaurant. My head was pounding, Carolyn had stomach pains and Ruby had shat in her nappy. The spotty dick with a funny hat came to take our order. He smelt of Linx and fags and I decided I did not like him one little bit. We scoffed and legged it back to the lodge. Carolyn settled the girls while I offered to take the car to the car park.

I thought the car park was nearby. It was not. I drove around and around for 20 minutes until I eventually found it. It was miles from our lodge. Fuck it!! I slammed the car door, pulled up my leggings and started the long walk back to Pine 405. I had my high heeled boots on, my feet hurt and my head still pounded. A bike headed my way and I had to jump to the left. I hate outdoorsy people!! As I walked a little further I saw a sign advertising bikes to rent. I paid the man and I hopped on the lady mountain bike with the trailer on the back and began to cycle. It hurt. I felt a prat. But it was the quickest way home. The bike picked up pace down the path to our lodge and the crash brought Carolyn to the front door. Her astonished look said it all. I dismounted. I poured a beer and took a headache pill.

Our lovely big double bed with the view of the forrest, and most beautiful en suite had the twins in it as they refused to sleep in the cots. Our room was a small twin. Carolyn still felt ill from a dodgy pizza the night before and said goodnight. I sat on the sofa wondering if the bike ride had aggitated my piles. I took to my bed and as I snuggled into my crisp white sheets I turned to face the en suite bathroom and heard Carolyn puking her guts up.

What a wonderful start to our holiday I thought. Tomorrow we take the girls swimming. Hurrah!?!?

Goodbye Cransac. It’s been fun!?

Tuesday 7th August – Goodbye Cransac  

Jolyon ordered a coffee and croissant and ate hastily in front of me. I watched my little brother as he was patted on the back by the locals – all of them quite clearly amazed that he was still alive after the Pastis drinking competition (Fred the alcoholic had still not been seen). Jolyon consumed the adoration with glee and his head became a medicine ball of proudness. I called him a dick and asked if he was ready to leave. He was, apart from something of importance he needed to collect from Jesse. I did not question this. For the first time since our arrival we all felt reasonably OK. Our heads were quite clear and I had no reason to vomit or retch. Jesse came and sat down with us. Our flight was late afternoon so Jesse would pick us up from the apartment at 2pm – he would also give Jolyon the ‘package’. Coco came over to our table and started chatting to me. I nodded and grinned.

We moved outside as the sun was out and took a last look at our surroundings. We agreed that this town was the strangest place we had set foot in. The people, albeit very nice, were clearly missing a brain cell. Most did not work and spent their days in the bar or buying scratch cards. Jolyon sat back and blew out a long cloud of smoke. Then he asked me to ‘trot’ to the newsagent and buy 10 scratch cards – I told him to bugger off and opened up my Ipad. As I wrote some of my thoughts down his grubby ET-like finger suddenly started poking at my screen as he questioned what I was doing and how it worked. In a matter of seconds he had managed to lose everything I had written. I snapped shut my Ipad just missing his finger and announced I was off back to the apartment to check we had packed everything.

The apartment revolted me more than I had ever been revolted before. Jolyon’s dirty smelly sheets adorned the floor. On the table there were piles of loose change, used scratch cards, a line of urine smelling 50 Euro notes and two large cheeses! I wrapped each cheese in a plastic bag and shoved them into his man bag. In the bathroom all his ‘man-stuff’ remained. I.e. his miniature toothpaste, miniature tooth brush, miniature shampoo, conditioner and soap. All stuff he had purchased at the airport. The sink was full of white liquid and whiskers. Without realising it I had stood on the soggy stinking shower towel on the floor. I had no shoes on. I wanted to pinch him.

Jolyon returned as I was just getting into the gymnastics. Jesse arrived on time and gave Jolyon a plastic bag. It contained a clean pair of boxers and trousers which had been washed and beautifully ironed by Coco. He threw them into his man bag on top of the cheese. I smirked.

Jesse got the car and parked outside. I was relieved to see it was his own car. We threw in our belongings and I was kicked to the back seat. We drove 50 yards and then stopped outside the bar so we could wave goodbye to everyone. Fred was there at last and he came out to kiss us goodbye and pat Jolyon on the shoulder. The cough mixture lady waved and then started to cough so violently I thought we may have to call the paramedics. I saw Loola the gypsy swaying from side to side as he walked out of the bar and headed to work in the park. And the man-woman in the oily overalls was managing to smoke and eat her lunch at the same time. Coco rushed over and kissed us all 3 times and said something. I grinned and nodded. And then we set off to the airport.

We arrived and jumped out. The plan was to check in and then have a last snifter with Jesse at the bar. I dragged my heavy bag with all the wine to the check in – Jolyon completely oblivious to the fact I could barely carry it. Jolyon waiting outside the terminal smoking and chatting to Jesse. I prayed my case would go through. It did. The camp French man told me I should hurry up to the departure terminal as the flight was ready to leave. I rushed out to Jolyon and told him we needed to go through now. He was astonished and amazed and utterly distraught that we could not have a final snifter.

We made it through and into the departure lounge. We had to wait 40 minutes for our flight which infuriated Jolyon.

The flight was quick.  We managed to consume two glasses of red and then sleep for the journey.  Before I could say tie me to the side of a pig and roll me in the mud, we had arrived.

As I slowly walked to the baggage reclaim, Jolyon sprinted pasted me like John Cleese on route to a smoking area and to meet Gilal our driver.  Once again I was left to pick up the luggage and carry it back to the car.

I dragged my heavy case along the long corridors and thru passport control, out the door and onto the road where I found Jolyon and Gilal . The sweat was dripping down my cheeks as Jolyon made a menopausal joke. I told him to fuck off and gave my bag to him.

As we drove out of Standsted and headed home I took out a mint and sucked hard. Gilal was still fasting and was so thin I thought he would faint at the wheel. I gently tapped on Jolyon’s shoulder and said that I thought Jesse had really enjoyed our company and that I hoped and prayed his operation would be ok. Jolyon’s response was a grunt and a snore and a wheeze and sneeze so foul I thought he had sprayed the dashboard.

I sat back and fell into sleep until Henley Bridge.  I waved at Midge and Graham as we drove passed the Angel on the Bridge, they did not see me. 

As I walked through the door I could hear the children screaming.  Home Sweet Home.  I love Henley!

Fini

 

Bunting, Piss and Cheese

Monday 6th August – Bunting, Piss and Cheese

We sat outside the bar surveying the interbreds. Jesse made us some pasta which was tasty, and eased my funny tummy for a moment. And then it didn’t. I rushed back to the apartment clutching my Gary glitter and praying I would make it. I did. A huge sigh of relief was followed by utter despair – we had no toilet paper. As I started to rip out pages from Jolyon’s classic car magazine he arrived home. He found some tissues in the kitchen and kicked them into the toilet.

As I walked out Jolyon rushed in and slammed the door. He screamed as he realised I had used the tissues he had given to me. After giggling to myself I rang Jesse. I was watching the synchronized swimming when I heard a French man say something out loud and then ducked as a toilet paper was thrown into the apartment. It reminded me of feeding time at the zoo. I grabbed the roll and threw it into Jolyon. It was too late. Classic Car Magazine had bitten the dust!!

It was time to pack. I carefully wrapped each bottle of wine with a pair of my knickers and other clothes. I then placed each bottle and item of clothing in a bag and then wrapped bubble wrap around it (thankfully Jesse had some in his kitchen). Jolyon threw his three damp items of clothing into his man bag and carried on watching TV. He took down the Euro bunting and tucked it into his wallet.

After a quick shower we headed back to the bar for our last night. Fred the alcoholic had still not been since his drinking competition with Jolyon which worried some of the locals, mostly Jesse as he was a good customer. The cough mixture woman was sitting in the corner coughing up balls of phlegm and loudly spitting them into the street. The man-woman with the oily overalls, short hair and moustache was smoking Gitanes and talking to a red-headed woman with tattoos and hairy nostrils. Sergio drove past and waved.

We dodged the ball of phlegm and took a seat at the bar.

Jesse and Coco joined us as we opened a bottle of Rose. We discussed Jesse’s imminent organ transfer and hoped our little visit had helped in some way take his mind of it. He remained silent. Coco took pictures and sat down to speak to me. I nodded and grinned. I have never understood anything Coco has said to me. We ordered another bottle and asked for the bill. Jesse and Coco disappeared. And then returned with a wad of paper. I was scared.

The bill brought tears to my eyes and a glint in Jesse’s. I could not believe how much we had spent in only 4 days – it worked out to nearly £100 per day. Jesse however thought it was Christmas and grinned like a Cheshire cat. I watched as Jolyon pulled out his damp stinky wallet. He pulled each Euro note out individually and placed it on the table for Jesse. Instead of the crisp texture usually associated with a note, these were flimsy and damp and smelt wretched. Jesse picked up the notes, his nostrils were wide and quivering, and for a moment I thought I saw him retch. Job done. We continued drinking.

Coco was still talking to me and my neck was beginning to ache with all the nodding I was doing. I noticed a rather large ugly man walked in with a midget like woman. He smelt mouldy. Coco jumped up and went to speak to him. After ten minutes she took the large man outside and returned with two bags which she gave to me and Jolyon. In pigeon English she announced that these were presents for us both. We opened the bags and our nostrils were assaulted by the smell of the largest piece of mouldy cheese I have ever set eyes on. It was the size of a Frisbee. I felt a little faint, and thought I might vomit on her. Jolyon had suddenly lost his colour. We thanked Coco and placed the cheese in the bag. Then legged it.

At the apartment I watched as the shutter ascended. Jolyon was swaying his bag of cheese in the moonlight and I was wondering how on earth we would get it home. The cough mixture lady walked past and we witnessed the most grotesque ball of phlegm leave her mouth and hit the wall aside the shutter. She then delved into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a small bottle of cough mixture. I watched her guzzle the liquid greedily and then cough loudly.

I walked with haste through the sitting room trying not to inhale my brother’s fumes and leapt into bed. I read a chapter of my book and took a final suck on my mint which resulted in me coughing so hard I front-bottom dribbled. I rearranged my pillow and resumed sleep. Just as I was nodding off I heard Jolyon sneeze three times and then fart. I had a sudden empathy for Cath his girlfriend. The poor poor woman. I wiped away the lonely tear and fell asleep.

Countdown to hometime.

I awoke to a glorious day. I walked into the sitting room and rushed to open the window and shutter. He lay in his pit, on his back, wheezing. An overflowing ashtray was on the floor alongside a pair of his trousers and one lonesome black sock. All around me was putrid and smelly. We had no milk or water and the fruit I had purchased a few days ago had gone off. The smell from the cheese and Jolyon was too much for me to take. I grabbed my bag and went outside.

I walked over the road and into the park. It was beautiful and just as I sat down to update my blog I heard a loud rumbling noise. It was getting closer and closer and I thought for a moment the sky was falling on my head. But no, it was Loola the gypsy. Apparently he is employed by the Council in Cransac to mow the lawns in the park. He was riding a sit on mower and looked as if he’d had a few pastis already. He saw me and headed my way in a zig zagged way. I jumped up and ran for my life. This was too dangerous. I made it to the bar, slipped on some phlegm, heard the cough mixture lady grunt and found a table at the far end.

His shadow hit me like a slap in the face and he sat down at the table and ordered a coffee.

Good morning Jolyon.

Wine Tasting and Hangovers

Monday 6th August – Wine Tasting & Hangovers

I sat at the bar and swallowed two Nurofen. I felt shocking. My head hurt and my stomach was making strange noises. Jesse & Coco were in the kitchen prepping for lunch, the smell made me queasy. The cough mixture lady was sitting at the bar. Her top was tucked into her leggings and she kept sticking her tongue through the gap in her teeth. I watched her arm fat flapping as she tried to swat a fly. I ordered another coffee and people watched. They were all quite odd. Possibly interbred. I bit into the biscuit and for some reason sucked in the air – the biscuit hit the back of my throat and I coughed so hard my eyes & front bottom watered. A strange looking man with a strawberry nose got me some water.

Our trip to date had been an utter disaster. Our intention was to come and see our Brother before his double transplant. Our plan was to spend some quality time with him, have a bit of family bonding. What actually happened is Jolyon got drunk and fell asleep in his dinner on day one, got drunk on day 2 and last night he got so drunk he pissed himself.

My head was throbbing. Jolyon had still not emerged from the apartment so I assumed he was not coming. My stomach was making funny rumbling noises and I prayed I wouldn’t get caught short. Jesse came out with Sergio who was driving us to the Chateaux above Marcillac for the wine tasting. I was not looking forward to this.

I sat in the back of his car swaying from left to right, trying hard not to vomit. The Black Crows were playing very loudly. He drove like a possessed man through the French countryside, occasionally mounting the verge. Jesse sat in the front rolling his cigarette and speaking French. I tried to converse, but as my only sentence in French was, “another large one please,” I kept quiet. At one point I thought I was going to puke and pass a poo at the same time. Wind was building up but I could not let it go in the car – I had to hold on until we reached the Chateaux. I was in pain.

We took a corner and drove up into the hills. The roads got thinner, I felt sicker, and Sergio drove faster. I prayed we would arrive shortly. I pulled an extra strong mint out of my bag and sucked violently. Right now, I wanted to be anywhere but in the back of this car. It was hot, with no aircon. My head hurt, I had wind, and possibly a runny bottom. This was the kind of recipe that ended in disaster. I wanted to go home.

At last the car slowed as we drove up a bumpy lane and into the grounds of the most exquisite Chateaux. As I surveyed the beauty and lusciousness around me I suddenly had the urge to puke. I leant out of the window and noticed a dead dog on the gravel. I shouted to Serge to stop the car. As we pulled to a sudden halt a ruddy faced man with long furry sideburns rushed out and picked up the dog and placed him in the barn. The dog was not dead. Just old and crusty. And so smelly I retched.

Michael Durand was the proprietor and chief wine maker. He owned the chateaux with his brother and between them made wonderful red wine that the supermarkets had just found out about. I asked for the WC and ran like the wind. As I threw my tanner lady into the bin I surveyed the room. Thankfully it was a toilet, but it was grubby and old fashioned. I walked out and thru an equally old fashioned kitchen. Michael Durand the proprietor was standing outside talking to Jesse and Serge. It was about 33 degrees.  My stomach was making strange noises again and the stinky dog has its nose in my front bottom. I joined the boys and tried to look interested as I carefully kneed the dog away. I had no idea what they were talking about so I laughed when everybody else laughed and this made him talk directly to me.

40 minutes later the wine tasting starts.  We move to a barn and down some stairs. And then we all turn around and walk back up the stairs. I am given a grubby plastic cup. I am poured a thimble full of wine and take a sip. Fucking horrible!! I looked at the boys around me as they swirled it around their mouth and then swallowed. They were all nodding their heads and clearly enjoying it. I could barely swallow the stuff. We were then given another thimble full of wine. This was lovely. I smiled at Mr Blusher and he started talking to me again. I suppressed a yawn and looked at Jesse in despair. I pushed the dog out of my ass again and decided to walk towards the car. I whispered to Jesse I liked the second taster we had and would like to purchase half a dozen bottles. And could we hurry up. I felt sick. I wanted to go home. And that godforsaken dog was pissing me off.

Finally the deal was done and we left. We cruised into Cransac and jumped out at the bar. No sign of Jolyon yet. No sign of Fred the alcoholic.

The cough mixture woman was eating her lunch. It was a disgusting sight to see the food swirling around in her mouth and then flying out onto the table. I decided to head back to the apartment to see if Jolyon was still alive.

The Cough Mixture Lady and Synchronized Swimming

 Saturday 4th August – Cransac

The alarm clock on his phone woke me up at 6am, then again at 6.05am, 6.10am, 6.15am, 6.20am – at 6.30am I jumped out of bed, ran into the sitting room and threw his phone on the floor. It stopped. Jolyon was on the sofa bed, head down, fully clothed. His breathing was heavy and staggered, like a wild boar slowly dying in the wilderness. He was lying diagonally with his stinky feet over the edge of the bed. By his mouth was a puddle of dribble. The stale cigarette stench, alcohol fumes and ageing bottom burps hit my nostrils and I found myself once more with my cupped hand over my mouth.

Our apartment was on the road and to enter it one had to slip a key into a keyhole, twist it, and watch as a heavy grey metal shutter slowly ascended. Therefore you could not open the window at night to air the place – I had to suffer the stench of my brother for another 3 nights. I shuddered at the thought.

I needed air and opened up the shutter and walked up to the bar for breakfast. I bumped into the stinky woman with no teeth. She gave me a funny look and grunted bonjour. She wore a rag on her head, an old dress over a pair of leggings and boots – it was a hot day! She would sit in the bar and cough, deep gut wrenching coughs that would usually end up with her bent over double and then spitting something out onto the pavement. She never drank alcohol though – instead she was addicted to cough mixture and drank up to 4 bottles a day.

I finished my coffee and took a walk into the town. It was empty. No shops, no supermarkets, no nothing. It was eerily quiet. I power walked back to the bar and wrote my blog.

At the apartment Jolyon remained in exactly the same position – face down. He woke as I came out of the shower and asked me to look at his feet. He seemed concerned that Cath (his girlfriend) had noticed blemishes and the odd lump. As he peeled off his sweaty socks I saw the claws poke through and stepped back making a cross sign with my fingers. The sight and smell of what lived in his socks was too much – I retreated to my room and sucked hard on a mint, I looked in the mirror and thought for a brief second my mouth resembled my cat’s ass. I had to get out of this place.

We headed back to the bar for midday and had the plat du jour. Like Jolyon, Jesse is a great cook and has treated the locals to some fabulous dishes. The wine was ordered, the food came and went. We stared at the strange array of nutters entering the bar. I assumed there must be a hospital for ‘special’ people somewhere. Fred the alcoholic arrived in his usual attire – military trousers, military tee-shirt and boots. He kissed me and laughed out loud at Jolyon. With nothing more to do we purchased scratch cards for the afternoon and lost a small fortune. I went back to the apartment to watch the synchronised swimming. Jolyon did not.

The text said Help Saz. Joe pissed. Can you come and get him. As I closed the shutters I could hear the sound of Wild Rover – yet the lyrics were not as I knew them. As I neared the bar I realised it was Jolyon singing. I walked in and found him with one arm around the toothless cough mixture womanr and one arm around Loola. Coco was filling his glass with Hendricks. He was banging the bar with his hands and stamping his feet. He called me sweet pea and I gagged. He grabbed me to him and started singing again, but the words were random. He said Ho Ho Ho and I said Time to Go! We carried him home and once again he was thrown onto the sofa bed face down where he remained until morning.

Could I really cope with another 2 nights of this? I sprayed some of my perfume in the sitting room and went to bed. Tomorrow I was going to the market with Jesse and then we were having lunch in the next town.

As I fell into sleep, I replayed in my head the Spanish synchronised swimming team until I was rudely interrupted by a grunt and groan from the stench pit next door. And then nothing.