A holiday part one

So I came back this writing stuff down lark. It has been a while and I have been withdrawn, from most things really just getting by, not moving out of the comfort zone. So I did need to stop and think, five possibly six months further on and the world is to all intents and purposes the same as it was before only different.

A holiday is a good place to begin, camping abroad, seemed like a good idea at the time

I have not been camping properly since my childhood, apart from one night under canvas in a field in Scotland, but that is another adventure.

Our children, both pre-teen in age and high in attitude and chutzpah, are doing languages at school, the youngest French, the other German. It could have been worse, Japanese was a possibility. They could both practice on some other than us, their dutiful parents.

So onward, we left Birmingham at the ungodly hour of 5:00am taking breakfast with us and following the motorway, south, and increasingly east as we headed past London and towards Dover. We had aimed to be in Dover by 11:00am aiming for a 12:30 ferry factoring in delays, toilet breaks and traffic. Much to my surprise we arrived at the P and O check in at 10:05. Ok so we would have to wait, walk around, breath in the sea air and maybe even buy very expensive refreshments. No chance, “you’re on the 10:30 ferry” she breezed. “ Go to lane 212, thank you” and that was it . We drove down and within 10 mins we were being wedged on to the ferry. We were the last last vehicle on. As we climbed out of the car the doors were shutting behind us and the note of the engines was rising. We climbed the stairs to the lounge found a table and some seats and sat, in a way bewildered at the turn of events. Ok that probably last for maybe 5 possibly even 10 seconds before the universal call of the child in a new place crossed the table. “Mum, I need the toilet” brought reality crashing back in. So once toilets had been found and visited, we got an overpriced drink and sandwich. I suppose it is what to be expected. This was our holiday and to be honest I did not mind. The crossing, flat and uneventful , passed by and we soon found ourselves back in the car and venturing into another country, France and a whole new way of doing things.

Disembarking in Calais brought with it the first major trial of our holiday, and I failed at the first attempt. So driving on the other side of the road is easy, turning left or right is all wrong. At the first opportunity I turned left directly into oncoming traffic. Yes it was only one car and it was a long way off and the knowing look he gave me as he drove past after my rapid reverse and return to the beginning, It scared the ******** out of me and gave me that nagging doubt in my own judgement that just lurked in the back of my head for days afterward. Probably a good thing that kept me on the straight and narrow for several days.

Following instructions from our sat nav we journeyed south towards our overnight stop. Our two children had resumed their position in the back watching DVDs or their DSs. They were quiet and seemed reasonably happy.

Having given over our route to our sat nav we dutifully followed its instructions to come off the Peage and venture onto country lanes which gradually got smaller and smaller, until we found ourselves on a single track road with tall hedges on either side and no passing places. For us there was no oncoming traffic or tractor to follow.

There were mutterings from behind me that a break was needed, and we entered a small village with a railway station, whose name totally escapes me. There, sitting on the bend in the road just after the level crossing was a café. A “French” café, it almost jumped out and said, “STOP, yes, this is what you have been looking for”. So we obliged and did a late lunch. So it transpired that the owner was English who has come to find themselves and their “Art”, but until then they were providing hungry tourists and maybe even locals with a pit stop. Daughter No 1 took one look at the menu and turned her nose up. What do you do with an aspiring vegetarian whose only real experience of cheese is limited to Sainsbury Mild Cheddar.

Fortunately, we managed to get something that appealed to all palettes and a visit to the toilet we headed south towards Abbeville and our campsite.

A mix of chalets, caravans and tents around a core of permanent facilities, swimming pool, restaurant etc. we had a caravan for our first night. I found the shop, before it closed, and pulling from the compartment marked, “use occasionally in emergencies” I dragged my store of French kicking and screaming into the cold light of day and realised just how rusty it was. I managed with lots of help to be polite to the girl behind the till and ordered some bread for the morning. We then slowly collapsed as the length of the day slowly got to us all. A meal of fresh (ish) pasta with a tomato and mascarpone sauce and fresh bread. Yes I know pasta is from Italy (even from China) but my children will eat it and so will I. I washed up as my wife and children played, they were happy.

From memory the morning arrived bright and clear. After a going to collect our bread we sat down to breakfast. I had forgotten about freshly baked bread, still warm. Some butter, bousin and ham and I was gone. The girls stuck with what they knew, Cocopops and milk. I could have happily stayed put and indulged for the rest of the morning, perhaps even the rest of the day. Unfortunately we needed to move. Our next destination lay several hundred km to the east and we had to leave the site by 10:00am. So with a full but happy stomach we headed off eastwards.