Center Parcs – the arrival

We were sandwiched between two trucks of toddlers. I noticed a small girl in the back seat of her car looking at me shyly. I stared her out and sucked hard at my mint. At last we were waved through by a thin ugly little man in a CP uniform. Thank God I shouted as we slowly drove into a dark forrest. I was about to water the garden when we had to pull in again as a blonde CP attendant tapped at my window and welcomed us to CP. I forced a smile and then she was gone. She returned with our keys and a map showing our lodge. Pine 405. We were to drive to our lodge, unpack, and then take the car to the main car park. Easy.

40 ruddy minutes later we are still searching. We found Pine 404, we found Pine 403, 402, and 406 but where the ruddy hell was Pine 405? This was a joke. We drove round and around the Parc narrowly missing sweaty faced families on their bikes and jogging Mothers pushing prams. I was now about to wet my panties. The girls were hungry and having tantrums. Carolyn wanted to go home. I sucked hard and then Carolyn hit the breaks and I got out. I walked along the road, hissing at the families, dodging bikes and buses and was about to tarzan scream in the face of a midget Chinese lady who gave me a funny look when I found it. Pine 405. We had arrived. Thank Fuck

We parked up and unloaded the girls. They were screaming. Carolyn’s face was florid with rage as I grasped my front bottom and dashed down the path to our lodge. I turned the key. I turned it again. It opened. As I sat on my throne I could hear the commotion outside. For a moment I just wanted to stay here, locked in the toilet. Carolyn screamed my name and I ran back towards the noise and noticed a duck eating a frog. Grotesque little fucker! Did ducks eat meat? I grabbed Ruby and we all headed back to the lodge.

The next 30 minutes was spent unloading the ‘stuff’. Cotbed. Buckets. Spades. Clothes. Food. more food. more clothes. And so on. I walked up and down that bloody path until we were finally in. We arrived at 2pm, it was now 3.30pm. The accommodation was fabulous but we needed to eat and get our bearings. It was time to check out the Parc. And I needed a large, chilled snifter!

Center Parcs – Here We Come

I’ve been up since 5am, it is now 9.30 and still we pack. Our plan is to feed the girls their lunch and then leave. They should sleep in the car. Mother is over from France to house sit and feed cats, in between the clicking of her knitting needles, the nibbling of her Rich Tea biscuits and slurping of Tea. The girls scream in excitement. Carolyn is screaming at the girls. Mother knits. Misty my faithful crusty cat sits on top of the fridge watching the chaos below. I have a bad feeling about this. I wish I was going to ruddy Egypt!

Carolyn’s stop start driving was about to make me puke all over her. My fists were clenched and I sucked furiously on my 3rd xtra strong mint. This journey was long and painful. Thankfully the girls had stopped singing twinkle twinkle and fallen asleep. As we approached Stonehenge we both stared in amazement as the car veered off into the bush. My mint hit the back of my mouth and I choked loudly as I cursed Carolyn for her bad driving. Ten minutes later we arrive and line up behind a ‘family car’ carrying what looks like immigrants and their bikes. I feel sick. The queue into the parc is forever. The girls are awake. Carolyn is still not talking to me and I need a piss.

The road is long…………

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 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.

Goodbye Henley

I decided to give Jolyon a ring to make sure he was ready for pick up.  The conversation went like this:

“Saz, what time is the taxi coming tomorrow”?
Me:  “You git, it’s today”
Jolyon: “Oh – so what time does it arrive”?
Me:  “15 minutes”.
Jolyon: “Oh – I better go and pack”

Friday 3rd August 2012 – On our way to France

I was delighted and somewhat amazed to see Jolyon cleaning his windows as our taxi slowed down outside the Row Barge Inn. He had managed to roll out of bed, shower and pack his case in 15 minutes. He jumped into the front seat, shook hands with Gilal (our friend and driver) and pointed his long dirty finger straight ahead. It was time to go.

We were off to France for 4 nights to see our brother Jesse who lived just outside Cransac in SW France. He’s not in good health and is due a rather serious operation later this year. A double transplant.  Our plan was to have a few quality days with him as we rarely see him. We did not envisage any heavy drinking due to his poor health.

As we drove over the bridge I offered Jolyon and Gilal an extra strong mint. Jolyon grunted. Gilal announced he was fasting. He was in his 3rd week. As we swerved onto the pavement and nearly drove into the Little Angel it occurred to me that he must be faint with hunger. Good God – would we actually make it to the airport?

After a few polite conversations Jolyon began snoring in the front seat.  I could see his head bobbing up and down as Gilal drove through Marlow.  As we gained speed I remembered the trip we had with my parents driving through France.  My mother had decided to drive as my Father wanted to have a few gin and tonics on route.  As we hit one of the many N roads my father nodded off.  My Mother, who was not used to driving a fast BMW hit 100 mph, at which time Jolyon decided to press the electric window on my Father’s passenger side.  The gush of wind that hit him in the face gave him a sudden middle parting, and a distorted and somewhat grotesque look. The quickness of his hand that managed to grab Jolyon and slap him around the head still amazes me today.  I snort-chuckled to myself and crunched my extra strong mint.

As we slowly approached the drop off zone Jolyon jumped out of the car and lit up the first of many cigarettes. Taking in deep breaths, wheezing and coughing, he managed to take out his wallet and pay Gilal.

Having just stubbed out his cigarette, Jolyon clutched his small leather weekend man-bag, marched to a small smelly area outside the departure terminal and lit up again. By the time I had dragged my luggage (it was full of gifts) to where he was standing, I could clearly hear him mutter to some Burberry wearing blonde lady how upset he was there was no armed forces parading outside the terminal with their sub machine guns. He then started coughing and wheezing again, I couldn’t stand it any longer and announced I was off to the ladies and then to check in my luggage.

As I trotted through the hall I could hear him again complain about the lack of armed forces. He was clearly very upset about this. I had no time to tell him to shut up as I gripped my front bottom and prayed I would not pee my pants!