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.