Isle of Wight – meeting Lord Miller (part 1)

It was raining. Cloudy. But there was a glimmer – we were off to collect Jolyon and Cath from Yarmouth, a mere 25 minute journey, and bring them back to Seaview for a fish lunch and plenty of chat and wine. Carolyn had many uses, her most used being the fact she is tee total and when I am a little giddy with alcohol consumption, she can drive.  Today she would drive Jolyon and Cath back to Yarmouth after our fish lunch.  A flutter of giddiness took me over.

I set the post code into my phone and grabbed a bottle of water.  The girls were excited. I was not. Carolyn’s driving was not to my liking. It was vomit inducing.  But I should not complain.  She tapped the post code into her phone and stuck it on the windscreen. I also tapped in the code to my own phone to ensure we were going in the right direction. And off we went.

10 minutes into the journey I was alarmed. My sat nav said we should turn left. Carolyn’s said straight on. What is this fuckery I hissed. Carolyn applied the brakes and with a look that could kill pulled into a side road. We agreed to follow her directions. I sat in silence. I had run out of mints and was sucking on a Halls Extra Strong Mentho-Lyptus sweet. My tongue was tingling. I liked it. For a brief moment I was back in Germany with a butch lezza called Helga.  And then I was back.

Rather than the sea route to Yarmouth, the road swung away from the coast and took us right into the armpit of the IOW. The roads became thinner, the bushes high, the people odd and the level of car sickness rose. After 15 minutes we were still nowhere near Yarmouth. Vivien and Ruby were now whimpering. I needed a snifter.  I turned up My Jamaican Guy and listened to Grace Jones until the girls announced they hated her.

40 minutes and there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Yes it was cloudy, it was raining, it was windy, I wanted to vomit, the girls were crying, and Carolyn was not talking to me.  But we were 6 miles from Yarmouth.  I sent a text to Jolyon and Cath announcing our arrival imminent.

Jolyon, my eccentric younger brother. Jolyon who has a title of Lord Miller. Jolyon who once shared a house in Spain with 25 feral cats. Jolyon who jested loudly on my arrival to our Spanish villa with new boyfriend that he had warts on his knob and could I go and purchase some Wart cream.  Jolyon who assumes the posture of a sergeant major, marches like Captain Mannering, drinks like Oliver Reed, cooks like Keith Floyd, smokes like a ruddy chimney and only dresses in Royal Blue.

We drove into Yarmouth and headed to the George Hotel. Jolyon likes the simple things in life, ie, not having to travel far. The Ferry terminal was literally attached to the George hotel, offering a mere 25ft walk from terminal to hotel bar.

I saw the smoke before I saw Jolyon. He marched in a semi-circle, looking a little flustered, and a tad hungover.

I needed to vacate the car before I vommed. I told Carolyn to pull over. I told her again. And then I shouted. I jumped out of the car and walked towards Jolyon and Cath greedily gulping  water and breathing deeply.  As the car sickness began to wear off  I went to kiss Jolyon  – he marched past me, blowing clouds of smoke in the air, to the boot of the car and announced we were to take his antiques back to Henley as they were too heavy for him to carry.  He handed the large plastic bags to me and sniggered as the weight dragged my arms down.  He sucked hard at his cigarette – his wheeze was crackly and loud.   I noticed he was attired from head to toe in royal blue Lazy Jacks sailing clothes, even down to a rather splendid pair of deck shoes. My snigger caused a bogey to drop.  I quickly wiped in the hope nobody saw. He marched over to the girls and bent down to kiss them. The subtle waft of stale cigarette and fresh wine hit my nostrils. The girls pulled away, Uncle Jolyon was smelly and his whiskers scratched their skin.

We all piled into the car to head back to Seaview, a journey I was not looking forward to.  We drove around Yarmouth for 10 minutes, and then parked. We had decided not to drive back to Seaview but instead to dine at Jolyon’s favourite establishment. A reservation was made and we made our merry way to Salty’s.

Jolyon marched ahead, fag in hand, telling us how he had spent most of yesterday ‘ferry spotting’ from the bar in the garden of his hotel.  And that we will also partake in ferry spotting this afternoon. What ruddy joy I hissed.  The girls were still wiping away the smell of wine and fags from their faces as we strolled into the rustic restaurant.

There was a strong fish stench as we walked in. I started to tell my lesbian brothel joke but Carolyn told me no. Our table was ready. Jolyon ordered the wine. I ordered the girls drinks. Cath went to the balcony for a fag. Jolyon went out for a fag. And then we began.

 

 

 

Isle of Wight – day 3

Wednesday 26^th July – am

I was awoken by Vivien at 6am. I felt hot; my skin was red, and my forehead on fire. My left eye stuck shut, so I dipped my fingers in to my water and flicked the cool liquid onto my eyelid. I lay for a second wondering why we age. Why do we have this menopause? Why does my eye never open, what is the meaning of life and why the ruddy fuck is Vivien on a skateboard at 6am.

She whizzed into the bedroom and quickly scuttled out as I sat up and belted out a deep Noooooo from the depth of my stomach.  Carolyn shot up from her doze and looked left and right in a speedy movement I had not seen since Pans People danced on TOTP. Alas there was no sexy look upon her face – she was angry.  I pretended I was dozy and slowly lay my head upon the pillow and closed my eyes.  I heard her swear a little as she headed to the kitchen.  I coughed and asked in my ever so nice voice if she would make me a cup of hot water and lemon. She told me to bugger off.

I could hear the rustling of things in the kitchen and the faint noise coming from the sitting room TV.  I lay back and slipped into my mindfulness state.  Breathing deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. I tried to mentally ignore the noises from the kitchen, and instead focussed on my breathing. Boredom overtook me, I felt a bit light headed, giddy and panicky. I tried to control my breathing, visualising how our day would be today, sun, sea, snifter with Jolyon + Cath, I grinned a little until Vivien came whizzing up the corridor and into the bedroom  again crashing into the bedside table and spilling my water.  My one good eye opened wide as the left eye stung like fuck.  It was time to get up.

The girls were eating breakfast; their shoulders and faces were bright red after a day in the sun. We had not expected it to be so hot. Carolyn’s face was shiny red with little white circles where her glasses had sat. I ran into the bathroom and stared at my own face.  It was florid and patchy. My face resembled a baboon’s ass.

We decided to spend the day chillaxing. A word I hate but I thought I would throw it in.  The sky was grey. It was raining. The forecast for the week was no different.  To make matters worse I had only packed summer stuff.

I smothered the girls with more Hemp body cream as they watched some animated rubbish and thought about lunch today.  My eccentric brother Jolyon (Lord Miller to his family) and his g/f Cath were in Yarmouth for a few days.  The plan was to go collect them and bring them back to Seaview as we had booked a table at a rather nice restaurant.

We were all excited to go and see them.  The journey was no more than 25 minutes.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

Isle of Wight 2017 – a short break

Monday 24th July

Our lovely friends had offered us their holiday home for a week in the IOW.  We love Seaview and took up their kind offer without hesitation.  After what seems a long term for the kids a whole week with no work, no school drop off and pick up, no council meetings was just what we needed. The kids were beside themselves  – their excitement was becoming too much for me, I had to sit down and stroke Misty my faithful yet crusty cat. Her purr was deep and then it stopped. She looked at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine. I fear she knew we were going away, and she was fucked about it. I continued stroking, sucking at my extra strong mint and fingering her crustations that had gathered around her ear.

The hallway was packed. 2 suitcases, bags of food, bags of crap that the kids wanted to take. How the fuck is it possible that we will need all this ‘stuff’ for one week in England. I had nevertheless packed very conservatively. I had it on good authority the weather was to be good for the entire week; I had therefore packed my summer garments, and a cardi just in case.

Misty stared at me from the bedroom window as we packed the Landy. I felt a little sad for a second and then pulled myself together.  The furry fucker would be fine, my old mate Lou Lou was in charge of my pussy whilst I was away.

As Carolyn sat in the car, I could see her anger building as I was doing the last minute check of the house, my OCD kicking in once again. I grabbed my extra strong mints, my phone and bag and jumped into the car.  At last we were off.

The journey was horrid. Carolyn’s stop start driving made me feel quite sick. I sat in silence humming Jerusalem and praying our arrival imminent. Hurrah! We’ve arrived.

I watched the family in the car next door stuffing their florid faces with cheese sarnies and crisps as a slither of dribble took a journey down my newly hairy chin. Clearly a menopausal development. I wipe quickly, aware they have noticed me staring. I suck hard on my extra strong mint and hope to myself that the family to my left, right and in front are not staying anywhere near us. They are not my sort.

A sudden jolt and we’re boarding the ferry. Goodbye. For now.

 

 

I’m not in the ruddy mood

 

At 05.30am I was awoken by my ginger ninjas. They screeched and wailed in unison from their bedroom like banshees – I joined them screaming in pain as I found, to my despair, my left eyelid was stuck shut!! I tried to open it slowly but the pain was immense. I swore loudly. And then again. I believe this glue eye is a casualty of the menopause. Along with hot flushes, headaches, short fuse, dryness between your garden of Eden and a whole history of other ailments I won’t go into as it just makes me so ruddy angry!! I sprayed my eye with some special liquid I had purchased from Boots, it had cost me £7 ruddy quid, and continued to try and prise open my eye. Vivien, aged 4, sat staring at me. Ruby, her twin sister ignored me. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat was kneading me violently, her purr deep, her breath foul, and her scabs falling. I flicked them onto the floor, managed to open my gluey left eye and sipped my tea. Vivien was still staring at me. She announced sadly and in a whisper I could barely hear that I was not her friend. I was too old. I hissed, kicked off the cat and went to my bathroom to read Diva. I heard Carolyn scream I’d been on the loo for fucking ages and she was now leaving for London. I was informed, rather rudely may I say, that I needed to dress the children, feed the children, brush their teeth and take them to nursery. I cursed her silently as the front door slammed and sighed heavily. I couldn’t even have a shit in peace these days! Peppa Pig had been replaced with My Little Pony. I could hear Viv & Ruby squealing with delight as they jumped up and down on my bed. I approached the room as Misty shot out like a bat out of hell, eyes wide, tail fluffed up. I went to grab Ruby and trod on one of the wet pull up nappies on the floor. My reptilian toes squelched in their urine and I found myself skidding. I stopped myself head butting Ruby and pulled her off the bed to dress her. 30 ruddy minutes later we are all dressed and ready. I stuffed toast in their mouth. Brushed hair. Brushed teeth. Tripped over Misty. Drop kicked them into the car. Started the car. Turned off the car. Dragged them both back into the house. Sat both on potties. Back to the car. In car and off to nursery we go. At 08.10 I am driving to work. The sky is blue and the day looks promising. And then I hit Reading! The start of the Festival brings in all kinds of people, strange hippy type children who have never heard of America, Cat Stevens or Mr Dylan. Yet they wear the t-shirts proudly. I narrowly missed a dirty looking man with dreadlocks and a vicious looking dog who decided to cross the road in front of me. I had to apply the brakes and as I drove around him I wound down the window and called him a fecking Plonker! Feeling rather nervous and adrenalin pumped I wound up the window and hit the accelerator. 100 yards along the road the traffic light hit red. I hit the deck and made out I was searching for something as the dreadlocked man I had just abused slowly approached the car. I fingered the dirt on the car floor slowly and then hurrah I found an old extra strong mint which I popped into my mouth whilst praying to the Almighty me dreadlock man didn’t recognise the car. When I emerged he was by my window rolling a fag. He looked at me as he licked the rizzla. The lights turned green and the car behind me was tooting. I looked at the man, grinned, hit the volume on the radio and sped away to the sound of the Nolan’s singing I’m in the mood for ruddy dancing. I did not look cool and felt a prat! But I was alive.
I spent the next 20 minutes trying to avoid festival revellers and screaming abuse to all that got in my way. I really did not like Reading at all.  And I dont like Woodley but thats another story altogether.

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.

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?

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.