Thanks for popping in.
Very late this evening.
Just got in.
Boy oh boy. What a trip back from our little shopping excursion.
It was going quite well all the way through Germany, Holland, Belgium and France, despite the mental drivers, the sleet and rain, the wheel slurry from the juggernauts and virtually no visibility.
We made good time and were even loaded onto an early train at the Calais Eurotunnel.
Until the hydraulics seized up due to extreme cold temperatures and they had to cancel the one we were on.
“All off, follow the car in front of you”
Now call me sceptical if you like, but I didn’t like the sound of that. There were about 100 cars in front of us, so we had about 100 chances of going the wrong way.
Honestly, it was like something out of a Brits Abroad sketch.
We lost the first 90 cars at the first set of traffic lights.
The remaining 10 of us went round a roundabout about 10 times before the car directly in front of Mum and me got pissed off, and took off down the Autres Directions route. She was a miserable looking Brit with a little dog in the boot; never did see her again. We did a couple more circuits, laughed till we cried, and then – against my better judgement – we, the remaining last gaspers, also followed down the Autres Directions Route. I KNEW it would take us off the Channel Tunnel complex, and it did. We were headed back to Brussels! 10 miles we went before we could turn around!! And by this time there were only 5 of us! It was like a blimming jeopardy game!! So one hour after we had been ejected from the train, we were trying to get back into the HOUSE !!! And the French at the entrance didn’t want to believe we had already been on a train in first gear with the handbrake on! This went on for another 20 minutes, and the little convoy of displaced Brits was getting intense.
The French didn’t want to believe that we had been sent off with no marshal. Marshal ???? A martian with three heads and four tits would have been more useful than the French at the Eurotunnel today!!
Calm down Gray…..
So anyway, after 2 hours, a lot of arm flapping and plenty of gesticulating, we eventually managed to get on another train – a warm one – which had been sent over from England to get us.
It’s nice to be home I can tell you.
When we looked at the ticket, I couldn’t work out why it said
Fr 12 Dec
“But it’s Tuesday, not Friday, Mum.”
we both looked at it, then at each other….
Then Mum piped up
“FRANCE, not FRIDAY!”
Maybe it was Friday. Maybe that was the ETA.
Maybe the poor cow with the little dog in the back will make it by then!
Love & Hugs,