The French Connection: Part One

Its currently 26c and I’m sat outside a renovated French farmhouse (Below), quite literally in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in rural western France.  My ginger skin has taken its usually course of turning beetroot red and the Jam-eater is a hyperactive gibbering wreck.  We have been joined on holiday by Emma’s sister, Sarah and her  4-year-old girl Autumn.  I finished work at 8pm on the day we were travelling and after a quick KFC we were on the road starting the long arse  journey to our destination.  Joy. 

Originally I had imagined this post being about the nightmare journey with the little girls being Arseholes, Emma and Sarah being stressed out and me being stuck in the middle of it all like a UN peacekeeper.  But no, turns out the girls were impeccably behaved, Emma drove us here like a legend, Sarah kept the girls occupied in the back and me…well, I decided to get a sickness bug / KFC related nausea somewhere outside Wetherby which cumulated in me vomiting 7 hours later into a Marks and Spencer carrier bag while on. Train under the English Channel. 

Oh yeah, this also followed the fact that I’d bought the wrong bastard tickets for travel, it turned out our tickets were booked to travel from Calais to Folkestone and not Folkestone to Calais.  I admit it, I’m a right dickhead.  

The Frenchman working in Folkestone looked like he was trying to shit out a parsnip when I told him this embarrassing news and was close to charging us £220 to change the travel details.  I think Emma must have flashed him a bit of side boob at some point though as he soon decided there would be no charge and allowed us to proceed with only a 40 minute delay. I managed to amuse Sarah slightly as she  saw me all nauseous and confused wandering around the car park for several minutes unable to locate the hire car  even though I was only stood ten feet away from it. 

The rest of the journey down to the holiday home was around 8 hours, but again the girls were so well behaved it, frankly it amazed me.  Well apart from the whole ‘Are we there yet?’ question which I thought was a myth, nope turns out it’s a real life pain the arse and I think we must have heard it around 400 times between Calais and our destination.

Having Autumn,  on holiday is a brilliant thing as it doesn’t half have ease the burden of a usually clingy Jam-eater and allows for a bit more relaxation than usual, hence I’m now sat outside in the garden while the little girls play with Lego and Emma and Sarah read their books.  I’m sure there will be no end of fun and games to come so I will keep you posted as and when ( although when you read this I will be home again and it will be posted when I have nothing entertaining to write, the joys of scheduling) 

Right, must dash.  I have a busy afternoon of having a BBQ and organising drinks to be getting on with. 



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