Space. The Final Frontier, then more space...
These are the continuing voyages of the Flying-Brick ‘Gnome’. It's got a pointy hat...
Chapter 17: Leaving France
The story so far:
We had left home with a plan. A plan that was not so much set in stone, but more like a weather forecast. Changeable with a chance of just about any bloody thing, although rain would almost certainly be involved somewhere.
We needed to get to the UK. We needed to see our loved ones there, and to bring one of them back. Any of them would do. We had a small window of opportunity. We needed someone to care for my mum-in-law, animals, house and sanity. We needed to avoid infection with the dreaded plague. We needed a single safe abode in England (where we would have enforced quarantine) and we needed our other kids to get there (despite Welsh lockdown) to see us. For us to see them. To see, perchance to hug. If not hug, at least we could see each other from a safe distance of two hundred centimetres.
All these pieces of the jigsaw needed to fit together at the same time. Jigsaw pieces that were constantly morphing.
Time was ticking by. We needed to get to the Eurotunnel in Calais for boarding early that afternoon, so our trip around the port of Honfleur was short but definitely sweet.
A curfew had now been put in place over nearly all of France, this included everywhere we needed to go. We could only drive during the day so our return trip, booked for the middle of the night, could produce some interesting problems. But hey, problems were the name of this trip.
As we drove towards Calais, we reflected on all that was in play. We were apprehensive. If the Elf tested positive, where would we stay? If she had not received her results by the time we arrived later that afternoon, what would we do? Even if we stayed with them in Bristol, would we be able to see our other kids? Would the coffee machine still work?
Spoiler alert, coffee problems ahead...
The roads were getting busier as we approached our destination, the skies were getting darker, but the trip was smooth as were the roads themselves. The Gnome coped extremely well with strong side winds. This was surprising to me due to the Gnomes somewhat brick-like shape, I guess that there’s some kind of computer controlled compensation device that dealt with this. Good old Gnome.
French roads really are generally bloody good, although the French will complain about any pot-hole. That may be no different from the UK, the difference is that in France they get repaired. This was our last opportunity to appreciate the French roads before experiencing the pain to come.
We were soon arrived at Calais. With almost no delay (checking passports, checking for drugs, checking for illegal immigrants, everything except checking our tickets, this was again dealt with by the ubiquitous computers) we drove straight onto the train. No personal contact, no internal searches, all perfectly covid safe.
The trip, taking only half an hour, was smooth and uneventful, which was good as I expect that any ‘event’ might be quite catastrophic with a few billion tons of water above our heads.
We were soon to enter a different country. Almost a different world...
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