France. The Final Destination.
These are the continuing voyages of the Flying-Brick ‘Gnome’. Small on the outside, astroGnomical on the inside.
Chapter 23: Wetting the bed.
We arrived in the small village of Chenonceaux too late to visit the chateau, so we settled down just outside the grounds in a small area dedicated to motor homes, camper-vans and various gnome-like creatures.
It was just next to a small railway station, which worried me slightly until we saw how infrequent and small the trains were, and we knew that after the curfew at 9pm all would be silent.
I cooked us an unforgettable meal of, er, hmmm.... something, then transmogrified the van into a luxurious bedroom. Ish. Then, after checking out the news, the latest Twitter feed, and other bog standard things that campers do, I spiralled down into the nether regions of sleepdom....
I was startled awake by an extraordinarily humongous noise. Quite clearly there was an enormous jet plane in trouble and it was heading directly towards us. The sound was earth shattering and Gnome quivered in fear. This was it. This was the end. There was no possible escape. There was no possible place for a plane to land except directly on top of us.
Amazingly the plane missed us by... er... shit. It wasn’t a plane, it was a bloody TGV (ultra high speed train) flying past us at immense speed. I nearly wet my pyjamas that I wasn’t wearing. As it disappeared into the far distance, we wept in relief and attempted to revisit dreamland. Just as we were nearly there, another plane attempted to land on our roof.
It was not a good night...
We had intended staying there two nights. No chance matey. We dragged ourselves out of bed with heads in a state of disrepair. We were to visit the Chateau de Chenonceau.
We were to discover a superb chateau.
We were to discover why the attempts of the French government to stem the tide of the pandemic were doomed to failure.
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