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?

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!

Misty – my crusty faithful cat

Picture this. Late last night Misty my crusty faithful cat decided to lick my eye. I rolled over, kicked off the duvet and my big toe found something wet. I disregarded this a fell back to sleep. I awoke to kids screaming. It’s 6am. I jump out of bed and notice the cat vomit on the bed. My big toe is brown. I rush to the girls room and skid on another small brown puddle of vomit. I get up and head to the girls room. Vivien is drowning in snot. Ruby is screaming. My life has become a sea of cat shit, snot, baby poo and vomit. Good morning world!!

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.