Best foot forward

(Yes, I know we went south-east not west but the Pet Shop Boys didn’t record a song with that name.)

Oddly enough both Stephen and I managed to sleep and were woken by the alarm at some bizarre time shortly before 4 am. I have only ever been up this early when going on holiday, which I suppose this is a bit like only without the return journey.

What little room available in the car was filled with dog beds, an insulated bag with chilled drinks, two essential packets of sweets (wine gums for him, butter mintoes for me) and a final bag of rubbish to deposit (hopefully) in Dianne’s bins. All that was left was to lock the door for the final time and head to Prestwich to pick up our designated driver.

We were a bit earlier than we had told Chris but he was ready and waiting. After swapping the rubbish bag for one of sandwiches (thank you, Dianne) and a quick readjustment of the car to accommodate Chris’ backpack, we set off and were on the M62 for 5am.

The gods of travel were truly looking kindly on us all day, as both in Britain and France we had no problems on the roads and France in particular was remarkably quiet, traffic wise. We made such good time that we made our first stop at 9am after getting past London and were at the Channel Tunnel shortly after ten o’clock.

There was a signed delay, due to an ‘incident in the tunnel’ of 90 minutes, but this is where it showed that the extra money we paid for a Flexi Plus ticket may have been the best £100 we have ever spent as we sailed past the queues of lorries and cars in the special lane and pulled up at the cabin that was the executive lounge for we privileged travellers. I only had a coffee and took a newspaper for Stephen, who stayed in the car with the dogs, but Chris, after initial doubts that it really was all free, went to ask the nice ladies behind the food counter for a sandwich. To his clear delight, they gave him not only a small plastic platter of cheese and ham sandwiches but also a very nice hessian bag filled with other goodies, including a fine looking caramel éclair.

It was then we heard the train was boarding so we returned to the car and again headed past the queuing cars, slipped in at the front of the line and headed up the ramp onto the upper level of the train. And as easy as that we were, some forty minutes later, driving out of Calais and onto the French autoroute system. Well, not quite that easy because we did start going down the wrong access lane to the train and had a bit of difficulty backing up due to the two other cars that had followed us. Oh, and Harry took a bit of an exception to the officials wandering past the open car windows on the train but as we know, his bark is far worse than his bite.

As I said the autoroutes were very quiet and we again made good time. We stopped for lunch at a tree lined picnic/rest area, one of many that they have along their roads – a very good idea that would make travelling in Britain somewhat pleasanter. Mind you, they could think about the toileting facilities a bit more; I won’t go into details but maybe toilet bowls and soap might be a good idea. Just saying…

We had a slight hiccup with a toll ticket, which turned out to be illegible when we tried to pay, no matter how many times I put it in the machine. Stephen and Chris were very helpful with their suggestions that I should try different ways of presenting the ticket but I can assure you, I haven’t got where I am today without being able to understand where an arrow is pointing. Anyway, when we buzzed for assistance a very helpful man came on, took the number from us and rang up the fee – all in perfect English, another lesson for UKIP Britain.

We arrived at our hotel in Quetigny near Dijon around 7pm, which we thought was good going. However, we had our first real problem when, between the little English that the nice girl on reception had and our little French, we discovered that the hotel had not been paid by Expedia, who had also given them the incorrect credit card number, so we ended up having to pay twice. Stephen phoned the company when we got to the room while I checked the money had actually been debited (it had, weeks ago). The operative appeared to be helpful and promised to call reception, but when Stephen went down a coachload of Korean tourists were checking in and milling around so he realised there was little chance of getting any sense at that time – though when we asked later the receptionist said that no one had called. This is the last time we will ever use Expedia and advise anyone thinking of doing so to steer clear.

While this was happening, Harry investigated the hotel room – and on one of his sorties under the bed appeared with a sock in his mouth. Knowing where it had been but not on whose foot, we took it off of him in the spirit of health and safety, so he went back and appeared with another but not a matching one to the first. If we had the time we could have ended up with a whole new wardrobe each.

Anyway, it was time to eat and a short hop up the road took us to a fabulous place called Flunch. This was a sort of fast food/restaurant combination, which puzzled Chris and me for a while till a nice lady at the cash till sorted us out, going so far as to close her register and help us carry our trays, drinks, etc. outside where Stephen was waiting for the dogs. She even, when, on opening the door, the wind blew all my paper napkins on the floor, picked them up and went back inside to get us more. Now that’s service.

Then it was home to bed and an attempt at a good night’s sleep before another long drive – an attempt not made any easier due to Harry’s mooching and persistent attempts to sleep with Stephen and me rather than in his own bed.