Today was all about driving. About 400 miles in fact. Poor John and Darren. It was like it was never going to stop. But it did. Eventually. And, along the way, there was much fun to be had.
For instance, at one point, Jon read out some of the boating on the canal book which informed us that jetskis and other diabolical contraptions were not to be used on the water.
Leaving at 7am, we headed for the channel tunnel where we were magically transported to France. Though not before spotting this possibly mislaid celebrity in lane five of the Chunnel entry.
Once in La Belle France, we headed to a bottle shop to buy some English beer (this is for the boat) and then supplies for today’s lunch. The food came from a horrendously huge supermarket which stocked everything in the world.
Sadly we joined a queue at the checkout where a French family was determined to pay for their €1400 shopping in nothing but small coins. It took a very long time.
While the rest of us waited we watched a very mysterious chap buying 11 cartons of German beer. I posited that perhaps he was a spy and the 11 cartons indicated that all was safe for the drop. Had he purchased 12 cartons it would mean the jig was up and they needed to make tracks back to the Soviet bloc.
Of course he may just have bought 11 cases because that’s all there was on the shelves.
While the run down to lunch was fine…
…the same cannot be said for the journey around Rouen. Darren, Lorna and Anthea went racing away while we were forced, by excessively rude truck drivers to follow the road through the burbs, catching every single red light possible. Plus a few more.
Strangely we wound up ahead of the other car and waited quite a few miles before they caught up with us.
The trip was long and took its toll on us all but none more so than Jon in the back seat who was spotted on more than one occasion clutching a paper based navigation aid, as if it was his childhood teddy bear, while snoring lightly as we trundled along.
Eventually we left the remorseless stream of anonymous motorway and found our way to the Domaine de Mestre. It might have been the luxury or the quiet or maybe just the fact that we could walk, but the place was heaven sent.
We all headed for our rooms before meeting up for a beer before dining.
And what a meal. Buffet entree followed by a delicious pork and turnip dish then cheese (or sweet things for those that prefer it) and a calvados to finish. Perfect Weasel repast.
And, of course lots of interesting dinner time talk like what a mole tastes like. Tomorrow, Fontvraud.