Center Parcs – Tarzan, Piss and Tattooed Grannies

I slept soundly and felt very refreshed. Carolyn had not. Nor had the kids. Today we were going swimming. I dug out my old costume and put my panties over my costume so as not to forget them. Carolyn was still feeling quite ill. The girls were arguing over some crappy Peppa Pig toy and I just wanted to get the fuck out of here. I herded the girls outside and mounted the rickshaw. I fell off. I remounted and off we went. Carolyn rode her own mountain bike. I was a little jealous as I looked and felt a prize prat wobbling through the forest with my ginger ninjas screaming Giddy Up from the back. I ignored the smiles from passing parents and instead picked up pace and headed to the Dome of Stench!

It was busy, kids all over the place, frantic mothers rushing around looking for changing rooms. Fathers wishing they were anywhere but here. Wet floors, humid, chlorine smelling with a hint of cheap perfume. We entered the changing rooms and found somewhere to get changed. We could barely move, we had packed enough bags for a trip around Europe! Our ‘family changing room’ was a hot little shit hole in a cluster of shit holes within a dome full of shits. I so wanted to get the hell out. The girls were crying. Carolyn wanted to puke, and I was having a hot flush. I removed my outer layer and announced I was ready. I walked with my head held high, holding in my stomach, clutching the girls, as we made our way towards the pool. We walked passed a mirror and it was then I realised I was still wearing my panties over my costume! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!

I held in my tummy and waded into the pool of piss. Children were splashing around me, I pushed passed them to try and get to the deep end. There was no deep end. I swam around the mayhem when an almighty loud Tarzan call came over the loudspeakers. I swallowed a mouthful of warm water as suddenly the pool was full of ferocious waves. I was hit by a tidal wave so strong it pushed me into the shallower end. I wiped away the snot and pulled my costume out of my bottom and swam towards a small cave. Some stairs took me to a hidden hot tub outside. I swam out of the tub and followed an elderly granny into the outside pool, the current suddenly grabbed my ankles and before I could cry ruddy flipping hell I was being dragged down the white water rapids that circle the plaza. I screamed as I was plunged into waters so violent I thought I would drown. Just as I thought it could not get any worse I was thrust down a 20 foot slide and landed with my legs wrapped around the head of the poor granny I had seen earlier. Dear God in Heaven. I apologised profusely. She struggled to get out, I watched and noticed the rose tattoo on her arm. Mmmmmmm I felt no remorse at all after seeing that. Granny’s should not have tattoos! No ruddy way!

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.

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.

The Cough Mixture Lady and Synchronized Swimming

 Saturday 4th August – Cransac

The alarm clock on his phone woke me up at 6am, then again at 6.05am, 6.10am, 6.15am, 6.20am – at 6.30am I jumped out of bed, ran into the sitting room and threw his phone on the floor. It stopped. Jolyon was on the sofa bed, head down, fully clothed. His breathing was heavy and staggered, like a wild boar slowly dying in the wilderness. He was lying diagonally with his stinky feet over the edge of the bed. By his mouth was a puddle of dribble. The stale cigarette stench, alcohol fumes and ageing bottom burps hit my nostrils and I found myself once more with my cupped hand over my mouth.

Our apartment was on the road and to enter it one had to slip a key into a keyhole, twist it, and watch as a heavy grey metal shutter slowly ascended. Therefore you could not open the window at night to air the place – I had to suffer the stench of my brother for another 3 nights. I shuddered at the thought.

I needed air and opened up the shutter and walked up to the bar for breakfast. I bumped into the stinky woman with no teeth. She gave me a funny look and grunted bonjour. She wore a rag on her head, an old dress over a pair of leggings and boots – it was a hot day! She would sit in the bar and cough, deep gut wrenching coughs that would usually end up with her bent over double and then spitting something out onto the pavement. She never drank alcohol though – instead she was addicted to cough mixture and drank up to 4 bottles a day.

I finished my coffee and took a walk into the town. It was empty. No shops, no supermarkets, no nothing. It was eerily quiet. I power walked back to the bar and wrote my blog.

At the apartment Jolyon remained in exactly the same position – face down. He woke as I came out of the shower and asked me to look at his feet. He seemed concerned that Cath (his girlfriend) had noticed blemishes and the odd lump. As he peeled off his sweaty socks I saw the claws poke through and stepped back making a cross sign with my fingers. The sight and smell of what lived in his socks was too much – I retreated to my room and sucked hard on a mint, I looked in the mirror and thought for a brief second my mouth resembled my cat’s ass. I had to get out of this place.

We headed back to the bar for midday and had the plat du jour. Like Jolyon, Jesse is a great cook and has treated the locals to some fabulous dishes. The wine was ordered, the food came and went. We stared at the strange array of nutters entering the bar. I assumed there must be a hospital for ‘special’ people somewhere. Fred the alcoholic arrived in his usual attire – military trousers, military tee-shirt and boots. He kissed me and laughed out loud at Jolyon. With nothing more to do we purchased scratch cards for the afternoon and lost a small fortune. I went back to the apartment to watch the synchronised swimming. Jolyon did not.

The text said Help Saz. Joe pissed. Can you come and get him. As I closed the shutters I could hear the sound of Wild Rover – yet the lyrics were not as I knew them. As I neared the bar I realised it was Jolyon singing. I walked in and found him with one arm around the toothless cough mixture womanr and one arm around Loola. Coco was filling his glass with Hendricks. He was banging the bar with his hands and stamping his feet. He called me sweet pea and I gagged. He grabbed me to him and started singing again, but the words were random. He said Ho Ho Ho and I said Time to Go! We carried him home and once again he was thrown onto the sofa bed face down where he remained until morning.

Could I really cope with another 2 nights of this? I sprayed some of my perfume in the sitting room and went to bed. Tomorrow I was going to the market with Jesse and then we were having lunch in the next town.

As I fell into sleep, I replayed in my head the Spanish synchronised swimming team until I was rudely interrupted by a grunt and groan from the stench pit next door. And then nothing.

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!