Welcome to my campsite diaries. Much needed holiday coming my way. For some reason unknown to many I agreed to work on Friday morning on the first day of our holiday. As an early shift finishes at one I figured I would have no problems, but my work being my work meant a predicticably late start. This then meant a lovely afternoon crawling around the M25 and the arrival in Dover to a thick layer of fog. After a pretend gourmet meal in the over priced hotel of fish, chips and mushy peas we went on to a sleep rudely interrupted by the honking of the ferries which may have been very useful to all those who didn’t die because of it but meant a semi grumpy Lizzie the next day, especially when our ferry was deylayed for a hour!
The ferry journey itself was unremarkable. Breakfast and a caffeine injection cheered me greatly. I only embarrassed myself once when I got a little over excited about the discovery of an English-French health terms book. I’m not sure any of the passing by French speakers needed to know that I needed a prescription for cystitis.
The drive down France was thankfully easy going. The French appear in general not to be middle lane drivers. A fact my uncle would appreciate. Our overnight stop was in a little two star French b n b. Clean, nice breakfast, no ferry noises and a cat that looked and acted very much like our poor little Frodo. We imaginatively called him French Frodo. Dinner that night I have to mention the sausage delicacy that Helen and Lukas had. It looked and smelled a bit like intestines once cut into and I was very grateful to my fish choice. Apparently, if you are to believe them, it tasted nice. The jury remains open. Anyway even though we had another drive the next day it was a truly relaxing evening and my back wasn’t even hurting and though I cannot exclude the volterol and red wine in this I have however concluded it is due to holiday happiness. Onwards down France.
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