I am getting too old for the types of weekend I have just experienced, although I was where I prefer to be, France, but not in the best circumstances.
Anyway, we journeyed to Portsmouth from Sutton Coldfield on Friday night for the 23:00 crossing to Le Havre on LD Lines.
The ship was not too busy, so we made our way to the bar and had a few drinks and a chat before retiring to the sleeper seats I had booked.
Although it was a warm night the air-conditioning made it uncomfortable. Jean had taken a sleeping bag from the car, which I poo-pooed originally. Anyway, after an hour I went in search of and found a blanket. I slept remarkably well, considering.
The journey down to La Haute Oraille went well, crossing the Pont du Normandie was spectacular, clear sky, brilliant sunshine, La Seine many hundreds of feet below.
Francoise, our helpful neighbour had supplied fresh eggs, they were smaller than usual. She explained that that was because they were laid by "bebe poulet" following a visit by Reynard to their coup a few days earlier. She also told us she had found chicken breast really expensive at Le Clerc, the supermarche in Vire. I asked why she was buying chicken when she bred them, with a big toothless grin she explained that she could not eat her friends!
We addressed business at the house and retired to Le Triskell, our favourite restaurant in Vire. Not the most salubrious of menus but they have the best entrecote au poivre in town. The steak is served sur la planchette, with pomme frites and a small salad, superb. Jean ate a wholly un-french carbonara. We both finished with chocolat Liegeois, which normally I would not bother with, but it was a hot night and the ice cream provided a cold hit.
Interestingly there are many English voices in the restaurant, but we keep stum and talk only French to Roger, the new owner.
The drive back was stupendous, the stars around the house are just the best, particularly as there is zero light pollution, you can see the milky way and even watch satellites passing overhead.
Jean woke me after midnight to go to bed, I had fallen asleep on the sofa, a combination of tiredness, a heavy meal and a few glasses of vin rouge.
Plans for an early start went well, I was awoken around 4.30am by the birdsong. Plans then rapidly went downhill for an early start when I woke again at 10am!
We packed the car and locked the door just after 2pm on Sunday. As I left I noticed that the guttering above the downstairs shower room was loose, so, as I normally do, I use the corner of the concrete barbecue to boost myself up onto the woodstore, so as to access the guttering. There was an almighty crash as the barbecue totally disintegrated, cutting the back of my leg and arm. Fortunately it happened to me and not one of our (paying) guests.
We ran the usual poorly organised customs gauntlet at Portsmouth on our return, four open booths serving two discharging ferries, a disgrace.
I made it back to the house at 11:58. After unloading the car and getting things ready for work it was 2am. Nonetheless I beat the alarm and woke at 5:45 for another working week.
Tomorrow; Bolton, but that is another story!