Flip Flops

I awoke to find Misty my faithful yet crusty cat perched upon my shoulder. With a wet nose, a purr so deep and breath so disgusting it brought back vivid memories of my trip to Cransac with Jolyon, my brother. We had consumed far too much wine and as I staggered through a passage of piss towards the hole in the ground I stumbled upon some used toilet tissue and fell into what they called a ‘toilet’. I called it a bloody French disgrace and with a hand against the wall and the other pinching my nose, I did what I had to do and legged it.

Since that trip I have been advised not to return. The locals did not take kindly to my blog it seems. To be frank, I never want to return again. Except perhaps to meet the cough mixture lady. She was a small round woman who resembled Susan Boyle. She drank up to 4 bottles of bronchial cough medicine daily. Her constant deep-throat wet and phlegmy cough was usually followed by a ball of phlegm being spat onto the pavement – this caused me to retch frequently. But I kind of liked the woman. I just had to avoid her phlegm balls hitting me.

But this morning as I lay in my pit, instead of cough mixture, I hear my twin girls guzzling their milk and watching Pippa Pig. I flick off Misty and sip my Earl Grey. I feel good. Rumour has it the sun will be out. And if that is the case, so will my feet.

I continue to sip my tea and catch up on Facebook. I can hear the girls screaming that they do not wish to go back to school. They hate it. Carolyn is trying to catch them, feed them breakfast, dress them, give them their reading lesson and then take them to school.

It’s tough being a parent I sigh and sip my tea once again.

All is quiet and I tip toe downstairs into the sitting room and pull out my treadmill. With a holiday on the horizon I need to exercise. A 30-minute power walk. After ten minutes my legs wobble. As I reach out to grab my glass of water my right leg gives way just as Vivien pops her head around the door to see what I’m doing. I didn’t mean to swear so loudly, in her direction, but I did. Her bottom lip dropped and quivered as she slowly turned around and left the sitting room. My water had dampened my tee shirt and my ankle hurt. I switched off the machine and pushed it back against the wall. I limped out. The girls were ready to leave. I helped get them dressed, brushed teeth and waved them goodbye. My work is done. I limped upstairs.

Misty was on my bed. My pillow. She was stretched out in full with her back legs slightly parted. Her head was tucked in her paw. She was snoring loudly. Like Cato I crept over to the bed. Her eyes were open yet she was asleep. She must have been as she did not move until I trod on Ruby’s Barbi doll and screamed so loudly Misty nearly crapped herself. As I fell to the floor I saw Misty back flip off the bed and run past me – her eyes wide, her tail so fluffed up it resembled my duster. She cantered past me meowing angrily.

I slowly got up. My foot was now throbbing. My head was throbbing and I was late for work.
No time to fuck about I needed to be in Reading for 9am this morning and it was nearly 8.30am. I found my white top and threw an iron over it. Trousers, make up and FLIP FLOPS.

I arrived at my work relieved. As I turned off the engine and placed one leg out of the car I noticed my feet.

Dear ruddy God in Heaven the sight caused me to shriek. My feet had not seen daylight for some considerable time. My nails had turned somewhat yellow and instead of perching upon my baby toes they wrapped themselves around each reptilian toe like a claw! They were not human. To top it all the skin on both feet had become hard and flaky and where I had fallen on my treadmill and again on the Barbi doll – my right foot was bruised, red and purple.

My feet were Horrid. They were alien. And I was in fucking flip flops for all to see.

Last day in France

 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.

Link

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.

Leaving the garage – on route to Excideuil

Jolyon sems to be constantly arguing with the sat nav and we end up near Paris!  We had just spent 450 Euros on getting the car fixed and we were still going around in circles. Both babies were now wide awake. Carolyn felt sick and faint. Jolyon was screaming at the sat nav and insisted we turn it off and follow our nose. I needed a drink.

Due to Carolyn feeling faint and wanting to vomit. The children shitting and vomming in the back, and my car sickness, it was down to Jolyon to continue the long drive to Perigeaux and beyond. His dismay at this (as he could not stop at the various wineries and sample their goods) was thwarted by my offering of an extra strong mint.

We slowly wobbled (the car steering was fu*&ed) through SW France. Destination:Excideuil – Mothers 70th Birthday Bash.

Unfortunately Carolyn’s health deteriorated on route. The girls followed through and Jolyon became sick of my extra strong mints.

Were we ever to arrive in time for the party? Did that last sign really say Spain? Did Jolyon just cough?

Bordeaux – the arrival.

26 March 2013

And so our family trip to SW France had arrived. Filled with much excitement, and in Jolyon’s case, much wine, we flew in style to Bordeaux where we collected our car and proceeded to drive out of the carpark. After an hour of navigating the car park and understanding the sat nav we made it on a road out of Bordeaux. As we surveyed (or regarded) the Chateaux we did not notice the road getting thinner, and promptly crashed the car in a lovely little town just outside of Bordeaux.

Our nightmare had only just begun.

Center Parcs

We decided to go on a family holiday. Horrah I thought as I rushed upstairs to wipe the dust of my Ambre Solaire oil and try in vain to squeeze into my kini (last worn in Corfu). I checked out where was hot and decided Canary Islands or Egypt. We would stay in a 5 star hotel and I would spend all day by the sea soaking up the sun while Carolyn would tend to the children. I had it all worked out. Sun HERE I RUDDY COME. And then my dream was shattered. Carolyn announced she had booked 4 days in Center Parcs in Longleat, with our 2 year old twins, Ruby & Vivien. We leave on Monday. Back on Friday. I gather we live in a shack in the woods under a dome with other ‘families’. And we cycle everywhere. God ruddy help me.

Follow my blog to find out exactly how our holiday went.

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.

Bunting, Piss and the moustached French Lady

Monday 6th August – Bunting, Piss and the moustached French lady

I walked into a nightmare!

The shutter was half open and I had to crawl into the apartment. As I slowly straightened myself I was first hit by the smell. The appalling odour pervading the room reminded me of the shit hole they call a toilet at Jesse’s bar. I gagged for a second and then I saw it, the BUNTING, Euros and Sterling notes hanging from every corner of the apartment. Soggy urine drenched notes which Jolyon was drying off. Why Jolyon had decided to bring over £800 pounds for a 3 day trip I will never know. But right now, it was all hanging around me like Christmas Day.

Jolyon was still in his pit he called a bed. I had to rush to the toilet as my stomach was about to explode. When I returned he was beginning to wake. For a brief second I felt relief knowing he was alive. Then utter disgust! I stood staring at him as his eyes slowly opened. He smacked his lips and surveyed the room. He had woken when I had left to go wine tasting and removed the urine sodden notes from his wallet and hung them around the apartment. He had then resumed his sleep. I kicked him and he sat up. He could not remember anything about last night. He refused to believe he had pissed in the shower but was thoroughly delighted to hear he had beaten Fred the alcoholic in the drinking competition. Unfortunately he also had a rather sicky stomach and before I could say anymore he rushed past me and slammed the toilet door. I heard him groan and then flick the pages of his Classic Car magazine. 15 minutes later he came out grumbling there was no toilet paper and something about a gravy pot. I shuddered and carried my wine into my room.

I lay on the bed and noticed a couple of soggy stinking Euros hanging from my window. I jumped up and pulled them down. I threw them at Jolyon and then washed my hands. I washed them again. And one more time to be safe. I walked into the sitting room and sprayed it with Joe Malone. Two flies fell to the floor. I grabbed my iPad, my mints and told Jolyon we should go pay the bar bill. He said he felt sick but would meet me at the bar after he had showered.

I walked slowly up the road to the bar. I felt rotten. Fred the alcoholic had still not surfaced. Loola the gypsy was at the bar reading a paper and the cough mixture lady was arguing with a small fat woman who had a moustache and dressed like a man. She was smoking Gitanes and the smell made me faint. I moved to a table at the end of the bar and ordered a diet coke. Coco came over and said something. I nodded my head and grinned. I sipped my drink and noticed the man-woman smoking the Gitanes staring at me. I looked up and she gave me a wide grin. Her teeth were black and jagged and I saw bits of food festering in the gaps. I turned away.  I like a lady, but she was something else!!

In Cransac everybody kisses you three times. I did not want this woman coming anywhere near me. The third kiss was the worst. I felt her bristles. She had hairy nostrils and her blue overalls were covered in car oil. She moved back to her table and lit up another Gitanes. I opened up my ipad and felt violated.

I saw his head first, looking out of the shutters like a monkey surveying the land before coming out. He crawled out, closed the shutter and marched towards the bar. I looked at him and was suddenly taken back 30 years to when he was a little boy practising to be a magician. With his top hat, his plastic chicken and wand, he used to run thru the house naked, pouncing on guests like Cato. I hummed the Dad’s Army tune to myself as he approached and could see he was not feeling good.

I suggested we eat something. We both felt sick and had runny bottoms. Jolyon seemed a little pale in colour. He ordered a glass of wine and his colour returned. I also ordered a glass of wine and nearly puked. Only one sleep to go and then home.

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.