Apparently, sometime in the past, I had promised Amanda that I would take her on a touring holiday through France. In 2013 I upheld that promise. I picked the second week in July so that the weather would, hopefully, be at its best and we’d be home before hoards of kids started arriving for the school holidays. After searching the internet I decided that it would be cheaper to camp as using hotels would make it a very expensive holiday! I had to meet Amanda’s expectations after our previous road trip. I had set a such high standard on that little jaunt I spent most of my spare time arranging our latest trip; from the campsites, to the ferries and even a busy itinerary for whilst we were there; there was no way we were going to be bored! Once again we were travelling in Cherry, my little MX5, so quite a bit of planning went into what we could take and how we would fit it all in. Especially as we had to get all the camping gear in as well. We knew from experience that both our small suitcases would fit in the boot and that we could stuff quite a bit around them. As for the rest of our stuff Paul had found a little luggage rack to fit on the boot which carried one of the old metal suitcases that Dad had had made before I was born. This contained our stove, pots, electric cable and assorted bits and bobs which were necessary to our trip. The tent went on the back parcel shelf along with two folding chairs and the saucepans. We then vacuum packed the sleeping bags and pillows and slotted them behind the seats; it’s a good job we’ve both got short legs; since it was a bit like playing Tetris to get it all in. Paul was a little worried that with all the weight we’d bottom out getting on the ferry!
So, the day of the holiday finally arrived and, typically, I was on a night shift the night before! I got home and went straight to bed leaving Paul to sort the car out. I had decided to leave home about mid afternoon, collect Amanda and set off as soon as we had loaded her stuff into the car so that we could get to our overnight hotel in time for a good sleep before our long trip south. Well that’s what I had planned. What actually happened bore no resemblance to my plan. Firstly, it took longer than I anticipated to leave home. I arrived at Amanda’s around tea time so we decided to have a bite to eat before setting off and at least then, we figured, we’d miss the rush hour traffic. In the end, what with people popping round to wish us luck and see us off, we didn’t leave until nearly seven o’clock. We filled up at the local petrol station, totally ignoring Paul’s advice to only half fill the tank to keep the weight down, and headed off down the A1 towards Dover. We were making very good time but just as we were nearing the Dartford Crossing Amanda decided she needed a pee break. Why, oh why couldn’t she have needed it at the previous services when I’d asked her? Now we had to go into Thurrock Services! I truly hate Thurrock Services, this family has a long history of nothing good ever coming from using them! And that’s apart from them being a total pig to get into and out of. Nevertheless, in we went and promptly decided to have something to eat whilst we were there since everywhere would be closed by the time we reached our hotel. After paying a final visit to the conveniences we returned to the car and headed back towards the Dartford Crossing toll. Which, whilst we had been consuming our burgers and fries, had been closed for overnight repairs and now four lanes of traffic was having to merge into two to go through the one remaining open tunnel. We followed the diversion signs which took us in a three mile circle to rejoin the queue for the crossing at the Thurrock junction. Back we went into the services where we worked out an alternative route across the Thames via the Blackwall Tunnel. I don’t think we were much quicker but at least we were moving. The whole experience meant that we had wasted over an hour messing about round Thurrock! See what I mean by it being nothing but trouble? It was nearly midnight by the time we arrived, tired and frustrated, at our hotel. We checked in and went straight to bed. I tossed and turned but just could not drop off to sleep and we had to be up and off for 5.30am!
I must have slept a little because I awoke at 5am all groggy and gritty eyed to greet a cool, misty morning. As we got dressed we could hear other people leaving their rooms and when we looked out of the window the car park looked like an anthill with people scurrying to their cars. We soon joined them, all heading towards Dover for our early morning ferries. We drove straight round to our ferry; and we didn’t bottom out! Once on the ferry we decided to upgrade to the club lounge so we didn’t have to put up with the several noisy school parties going to France for the day. In the lounge we were treated to complimentary champagne and had a nice breakfast and several cups of coffee in the most pleasant surroundings.
It was gloriously warm and sunny as we drove off the ferry and the day just got hotter and hotter. The drive down through France was largely uneventful with only a slight hold up coming into Rouen for roadworks. Although, because I had already driven the diverted route on Google street view, we got through without any problems. Until Amanda took me down a wrong turn just before the one we should have taken. So out came the trusty iPhone and Google maps which, with the road signs, brought us out onto the road we wanted a little further along and missing out a rather complicated junction. We arrived at the campsite in Azay Le Rideau by late afternoon and were soon setting up camp. We had a bit of a search for our pitch, only to discover someone had already pitched there. Never mind, there was plenty of space so we chose a really nice pitch by the river. We got the tent up easily enough, it was the pegging out that was the problem. Firstly, the ground was solid and secondly, Paul had provided us with a mallet with a swivelling head which spun round every time you tried to hit the peg. In the end, after a few choice words and some very bent tent pegs, a very helpful German chap came and drilled holes for us. He’d got some of those really expensive screw in pegs; we really ought to get some! Once we were set up we headed off to the supermarket for supplies, which included a couple of torches since we’d forgotten to pack a lamp! Back at the tent Amanda set about preparing our supper on the “all-purpose” luggage rack/worktop/draining board on the back of the car. We had a nice relaxing evening eating our barbecued steak, peppers and courgettes and guzzling a bottle of wine. Well, about two-thirds of a bottle; we lost quite a bit when the cork shot off and we had a fountain of wine gushing out of the bottle. Whilst we were preparing supper one of the other campers came over and told us that there was a fireworks display in the town that night to celebrate Bastille day so after we’d eaten off we toddled off to join in the fun. We arrived in time to wander round the town and watch the parade which lead us back to the playing field for the fireworks. It wasn’t a bad little display either and the whole town had turned out to enjoy the night. Back at the site we were soon snuggled up in our sleeping bags for the night.
The next three scorching hot days were spent visiting the various chateaux in the area. Each day started with a leisurely breakfast, usually of fresh bread and cheese with a cup of coffee, whilst sat on the riverbank. Then we’d put the top down on the car and set off to wend our way along the country lanes to whichever chateaux we’d picked for that day. The gardens at Villandry were beautiful and a delight to wander around. We decided not to eat at the chateau since it looked a bit pricey and wandered into the village to see if there was anywhere cheaper. There wasn’t. We ended up at a greasy spoon bistro where we had the worst meal of the trip. We were seated at a table, covered in a sticky, plastic gingham tablecloth and so close to the road the back legs of my chair were in the gutter. It wasn’t a quiet road either and every time a tour bus went past we were shrouded in a cloud of diesel fumes and dust. We were served very small portions of a tepid meat stew of dubious origin; I think it was supposed to be rabbit; with canned vegetables swimming about in the thin gravy. Ussé was pretty but very pricey for what it was and they were certainly pushing the Sleeping Beauty angle. Although we did find the wife of the estate manager selling some really tasty wine, so we bought three bottles. Back at the site we managed to get to the local pool for a cooling swim before enjoying the very excellent one pot meal cooked by Amanda and the first bottle of our wine. I managed to trip over my own feet and spill my first cup of wine which landed in Amanda’s shoe so, once again, not a full bottle!
Langeais was very pleasant and it was in this town that we had one of our best meals. As we came out of the chateau we headed for a restaurant we’d spotted on the way in. We entered the gloomy hallway to be met by the most arrogant Maitre d’imaginable. He looked us up and down, sniffed and told us the restaurant was full before pushing past us and heading out of the door. We mustn’t have looked like we were the right sort of clientele. So, feeling a little insulted, we left and went in search of somewhere nicer. Which we found in a little cafe with its tables nestled around a tree in the shade of the chateau walls. We had a beautiful meal of stuffed globe courgettes followed by a lemon tart all served by a cheerful, good looking waiter with a gorgeous bum who wasn’t averse to a bit of flirting. Much better than our first choice.
Azay Le Rideau was our next port of call where we had fun hiding in the huge fireplaces around the chateau and strolling around the gardens where we spotted another gorgeous bum, this time in cycling shorts! And before anyone else says anything, no, I didn’t fall over! And it wasn’t a bum that made me fall over last time!! Another barbecue then back to the chateau for the Son et Lumiére followed by crêpes and wine in the bar which Paul and I had first found 35 years ago.
Next day we visited Fontevraude abbey and Chateau De Brézé. Fontrevaude has to be one of the most peaceful and serene places I’ve ever visited; it oozes spirituality. Until you arrive at the little chapel with the depictions of the crucifixion where the mural depicting the ascension of Christ made me giggle and I had to wonder if the monks had a sense of humour. Chateau De Brézé was quite interesting as well since most of the visit is in the caves underneath. Indeed, in one of the caves there was a lady making little breadcakes in the oven, which you could taste, for free! In England they’d probably charge you!! That evening we ventured out for a meal in one of the restaurants near the site. A very tasty meal it was too, but we upset the Maitre d’ when we declined pudding AND coffee. He actually hissed at us before heading off to fetch our bill, muttering in disbelief all the way.
We were up early the next morning to break camp, which was a bit of a struggle as our German friend had left the day before and we had to get the pegs out by hand. After an easy journey up to Chateau Des Marais campsite we had a much easier time pitching the tent as the ground was much softer. We had a lovely little pitch with just enough shade to keep the tent cool in the evenings. I did have to go and borrow an adapter for the electric hookup as Paul had forgotten to put ours in.
Again, the next three days were spent sightseeing and the weather remained scorching hot. First up was Clos Lucé, the last home of Leonardo Da Vinci. After strolling around the grounds and looking at an exhibition of copies of Leonardos work (a bit of a rip off we thought), we had another pleasant lunch in the shady courtyard. I was very taken with the cider being served in soup bowls. After lunch we wended our way into the town of Amboise where I had to buy a pair of shoes; the Birkenstock type, one of Amanda’s pet hates; because my foot had swollen up to the size of a small planet. Once I was more comfortable we headed for Chateau D”Amboise which had Amanda declaring she was sure she’d been there before and when she saw the covered driveway sweeping up in a grand spiral from the town below; to allow visitors to the chateau to drive their carriages right up to the entrance; she remembered when she had been there.
The following day we had a very leisurely start to our day before visiting Chambord, with its double twisted staircase designed by Leonardo Da Vinci. We spent a quite a while there, finding our way around it’s unusual layout. On our way back to the campsite we stopped off in the village where we found a little butcher’s shop and bought some delicious sausage meat with peppers to go into our stuffed courgettes. We also went into the grocers for a few bits and whilst we were there we asked the woman behind the counter if she could recommend a restaurant, which she did, giving us a choice of two local ones. We drove around to check them out and decided on the second of the two “La Chanterelle” and booked a table for the following evening as it was our last before heading home. From there we dove into Mer to try to find a petrol station but kept getting lost. We never did find it. That evening we had our first rain and a thunderstorm.
The sun was back for our last day, and since we were, by now, completely chateau-ed out, we decided to pack a picnic and take a walk along one of the forest trails around the chateau. We had a pleasant walk but both of us ended up with loads of mozzie bites, which we had managed to avoid all week with a generous application of spray. We had a leisurely picnic back at the car before heading back to the tent to get ready for our meal out. And what a meal! We chose the five course option starting with the mise en bouche, a cold tomatoey thing followed by escargots wrapped in choux pastry which melted in your mouth. Each subsequent course was to die for, each looking like very small portions but which were really quite filling, but at the same time not leaving you too stuffed for the next course. Would I go back there? You bet I would! Back at the tent and feeling very satisfied we started to pack our bags by torchlight as the rain spattered gently on the tent.
The day dawned hot and clear and luckily the tent had dried out. The couple on the next pitch were intrigued as to how we were going to get everything packed into our small car. We were packed up and ready to go in record time so, as we were hot and sweaty, we headed off for a shower before leaving around 10.30. We made excellent time to Paris and were in high spirits since it looked like we maybe making an earlier ferry home when disaster struck. We were heading round the peripherique in quite heavy traffic when I heard a strange rattling coming from the engine. I glanced at the temperature and saw that we were overheating so I decided to pull in at the next service area, but taking the wrong exit, we ended up in a suburb of Paris instead. As we rattled our way down the slip road away from the motorway the engine gave one last shudder before conking out altogether forcing us to glide to a halt on the hard shoulder. Out came the red triangle and the high vis jackets before popping up the bonnet to investigate. There was so much steam coming from the engine you’d have thought it was coal powered! So there we were, stuck in bloody Paris, with an overheated car. Annoyingly I could see the services we needed but couldn’t get to them. I delegated Amanda to stay with the car whilst I headed off to try to find water for the radiator. We appeared to have stopped at some sort of interchange, but since it was deserted I followed a footpath which eventually took me to a small retail park where I found a restaurant. I went in and; in pidgin French accompanied by much gesticulating; explained my predicament. The waiter very kindly let me have two carafes of water which I carefully carried back to the car. Whilst I had been away Amanda had attracted the attentions of some nutter (who wouldn’t have gone amiss in a backwoods Redneck movie) trying to sell her some dodgy sunglasses from a filthy carrier bag, and a well meaning couple who were trying to protect her from his wiles whilst trying to assist with the car problem. When I got back to the car the nutter promptly took one of the bottles of water from me and poured it all over the engine and wandered off! The couple stayed to help but since; thanks to the nutter; we had now used all the water so we were still going nowhere. To our dismay the nutter returned and tried to haul me off towards the service area to which he said he’d show me the way. As it turned out the service area could be accessed by a set of steps. I bought some fluid and filled up the radiator and tried to start the car. Thankfully it started and we headed a few hundred yards down the road to where we found another garage! If only I’d walked that way I’d have found it and saved myself a lot of effort!! If only the car had made it that extra few yards!!! At this point I tried to phone Paul, fat chance of him answering his phone! So I rang PJ instead who advised me what to do and said it sounded like my thermostat was stuck. After letting it cool down we got it going and headed back to the motorway. Only for the rattling to reappear as we were passing under the Charles De Gaulle airport runways just outside Paris. Now, I knew there was and Aire just a few miles further on so I decided to try to get the car there, but, about 100 metres from the Aire, the engine finally gave up the ghost. Out came the triangle and the high vis jackets again as we sat on the grass verge trying to decide what to do. In the end we decided to try and push the car those last few metres into the Aire. So there we were, two middle aged women, in the blazing heat, pushing a car up the hard shoulder of a French motorway, me trying to keep it from straying back onto the motorway and Amanda at the back wearing a really short dress! How we didn’t cause an accident is beyond me. Just as we were struggling the last few yards, uphill, to the slip road onto the Aire, we were joined by a knight in shining armour, from Liverpool, who helped push us the rest of the way and gave us a bottle of frozen water. Which was much appreciated as, by now, we were both sweating like pigs and feeling a little overheated ourselves. I tried to turn the engine, but alas, this time it was definitely not playing. It was now time to play the damsel in distress and phone the boys again. But before I did anything else I had to change into something cooler than my traveling clothes; which turned out to be my pyjamas since they were the only things I could reach; before walking all the way back down the hard shoulder to where we’d left the red triangle, cursing and swearing all the way, especially as we should have been in Calais by now! Then came five hours of sheer torture! The Aire had no shade to speak of since it looked like it had recently been modernised and replanted and the trees were little more than saplings. There was no grass either. There were picnic tables but they were in the full sun, which, by now, was at its hottest, so we didn’t want to sit at them. We spread a beach towel out in the 3 foot patch of shade beneath the sapling nearest to the car and kept moving round it to keep up with the shade. Even taking only small sips we had soon drunk all our water and had to make do with the rammy water from the tap near the loos. After talking to Paul it was time to accept defeat and phone the RAC. After being put on hold and cut off several times I was getting a little angry and phoned the boys back. PJ then gave me the European number, which, incidentally, is NOT on the card, and I eventually got through to a very pleasant Irish guy called Martin, who explained what I needed to do. Apparently I had to find the SOS box and talk to the motorway rescue service so they could sent a tow truck out. So off I poddled towards the loos where a big sign said there was an emergency phone. I looked all round the building, but could I find the phone? I then set off down the exit slip road to see if it was there before stomping angrily back to Amanda. And right in mid rant I had a light bulb moment. How could I have been so stupid? Heat exhaustion and dehydration were my excuse. Perhaps it was actually on the hard shoulder of the motorway. So I headed into the bushes which separated the Aire from the road and there it was! Thankfully I got in touch with the rescue people and repeated what Martin of the RAC had told me to say. That done we now had to sit and wait for the tow truck. And wait. And wait……. Martin kept in touch and was trying to find us a hire car so we could get to the ferry that evening so Amanda could get home to start her new job. And, bless him, he did. Eventually the tow truck arrived and, since they don’t do roadside repairs in France, loaded us up. He told us that he had been very busy that day with overheated cars and, indeed, when we arrived at his compound, it did appear to be very full and there were several families in the office filling out paperwork. We took everything we didn’t want to leave out of the car and put all the camping gear in the boot before going to sign our paperwork, with Martin on the phone talking to the rescue people to make sure everything was done properly.
Then another long wait, in a rather less than salubrious area, for our taxi back to Charles De Gaulle airport, where we were picking up the car. I finally had my issy fit in the back of the taxi, so Amanda had to tell the driver our woes and when he dropped us off he gave me a big hug and said at least we’d only broken down and not been in an accident. Which put things in a bit more perspective but didn’t make me feel any less upset. Off we went to the car rental office to be told that they knew nothing about us picking up a car from them. Well that was it, I started to kick off at this stunned bimbo behind the counter; I was filthy, hot, sweaty and in my pyjamas and this was the last straw. Amanda phoned Martin again, who spoke to girl behind the counter and sorted it all out. After which we were taken to our hire car and were soon on our way again. It had only taken us seven hours to get away from Paris. I’m beginning to feel the same way about Paris as I do about Thurrock! Which is why we’d gone down via Rouen in the first place. Whilst we had been going through our ordeal Paul and PJ had been sorting out their rescue mission. At first we thought we could get on the ferry as foot passengers and they could pick us up at Dover, but apparently, you can’t be a foot passenger after 10pm! So they decided that they would come over to Calais and rescue us. We arrived in Calais around midnight, and as the boys wouldn’t be there until about 3.30am we decided to park in the car-park and get a bit of kip before going to find petrol and handing the keys back in. Only on setting off to find petrol we found we couldn’t get out of the car-park! We arrived at the barrier, put our ticket in and it told us what we owed. Amanda put her bank card in the slot only for it to be spat back at her along with the ticket, the barrier staying firmly in place. We tried several times and with different bank cards, all with the same result. It was at this point Amanda had her issy fit. She jumped out of the car, went over to the barrier and tried to heave it up manually whilst screaming and swearing at it! Needless to say, it didn’t work!!! We had re-parked the car before we noticed one of those prepay machines over in another car park. So over she went to investigate, and yes, we were supposed to have used that machine! So why have card and cash slots in the machines at the barrier? And why not have any signs up saying where to pay? Because we’re in bloody France I ranted. By now the boys were nearly with us so we didn’t have time to drive around looking for petrol. In the end we decided to leave the car at the drop off point and hand in the keys. Only the office was closed until 9.00am and all we could do was post them through the grille before going to stand in the car park waiting for the boys. What a relief it was when they arrived. I really began to feel like our ordeal was over. But, oooooh no! The final irritation was yet to come, the straw that broke the camels back. We only had a brief check at passport control since they recognised the boys and apparently knew our story. But customs was a different kettle of fish. They insisted we take all our luggage back out and put it through the scanners. Well, at this point I really had had enough and completely lost it with the two ginormous customs women (neither of whom would look amiss in a sumo wrestling contest) and went into full meltdown mode telling them exactly what I thought of the French. And none of it was good. Paul forcibly ushered me back to the car before they arrested me for being abusive! We finally made it onto the ferry after being followed along the docks by a police car. Making sure I left probably!
Epilogue
I picked up a speeding fine in our rush to get to Calais in the hire car.
Amanda made her job but was finished after only a week!
Cherry the Mazda arrived home in a fancy truck two weeks later and it was more than the thermostat, the engine was completely fried. She was sold to a bloke in Nottingham a few weeks later.