The blog of a romance novelist and poet. Semi-nomadic between England and France, a curious curtsey to cuisine and country.
Thursday, 22 September 2011
Wheels within wheels
We awoke at 5am. At least there was Breakfast at Brittany's to look forward to. I try to avoid anything too healthy. I always go for the salmon, the boiled eggs and the ham. I knew that an ordeal lay ahead. The broken down car was sitting sullenly on the car deck. They had put us with the lorries, expecting to tow us off the ship. Gilles had other ideas. He suspected that once the gearbox fluid had cooled it would produce enough friction to get us moving at tick-over revs. If we could sneak out with the trucks and clear immigration we could break down in comfort. And so it was that we found ourselves without transmission about 500 metres (that's 546 British yards) on the safe side of the border. A security guy starts shouting and waving. We shrug in a kinda Gallo-Anglo manner. The guard approaches.
"Thirty years Sir - thirty years I've been in Security Madame - I've seen so much bad parking Sir- Dear me- so much anger....I didn't mean to shout Madame....but you have to.....so much anger Sir ....I just see so much of it. Just yesterday Madame, I was on routine patrol in the terminal building. Anger Sir- yes, a man assailed me. Frustration - that's what it is Madame. Frustration leading to anger Sir." The guy was an absolute gent and something of an English eccentric. We offered confusing hands to shake. Well - we are foreign.
We awaited the tow truck. The AA arrived. The car went to the Mercedes dealer. We unloaded all the gear and at about lunchtime arrived at my new home in a breakdown truck. I saw an old guy peer round the gate and then scurry away before he had to kiss and shake hands. Um - no, they don't do that do they. He probably went off to tell the neighbours that a load of pikeys (semi nomadic scrap metal dealers and asphalt contractors) were moving in and they drive around in a lorry.
Well, the house has green grass and an oak tree filled with gorgeous black crows. It's all quite posh really. I keep staring at the red clay bricks - I had forgotten bricks! The house is on a rental contract and Gilles will be taking the train to London. He indulged me by coming to the Test Valley so that I can see Rosina. The area looks like the sort of place where they have the Women's Institute and the Rotary club. To be honest I feel very out of place. I'm gonna make friends with the crows. At first sight there are 2 colonies in 2 separate trees. I have missed garden birds in Charentes.
Emma thinx: Who imagined that tree you're looking at?
Labels:
AA,
Brittany Ferries,
Cars,
Emma Calin,
English Working Class Life,
gearbox,
Test Valley
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Thanks so much for stopping by. Always so happy to get your feedback. Emma x