I was not going to make the same mistake twice; I had breakfast. Even ate a yoghurt I didn’t like. I looked even rougher than I felt – not good for those that had to face me in the lift and restaurant.
But day 2 was to be a far nicer journey. The Bitch done good. I spent the majority of my time on long straight roads passing through beautiful countryside and in a relatively direct manner. The countryside changed from fields of dying sunflowers, yellow all gone, heads heavy with seed unable to lift towards the sun, to fields of wheat, then vineyards and forests. I think there is no sadder sight on the flora side of nature than fields of dead sunflowers. Standing black, with heavy heads waiting for the executioner’s blade – gone is their sunny demeanour with beautiful, colourful heads held high facing the sun. It is a contrast most dramatic.
The vineyards of Bordeaux and Cognac offer a promise of sunny nights, their light green leaves hiding the bundles of grapes beneath. The forests offered the opportunity for perhaps the best lay-bys in Europe. When you enter an ‘Aire de Repose’ which has been promoted by signs depicting a picnic bench beneath a pine tree you are not disappointed. You cease to hear the main road. The one we stopped at had so much space for the boys to run about in. We spent 20 minutes with me throwing sticks at trees, as opposed to through the yawning gaps between them, and the boys running around finding new smells and generally having a fine old time. Nothing makes me happier on the fauna-side of Nature than seeing a happy dog. Their glinting eyes, lolling tongues and tail held high with a metronomic wag – it hits my soft spot.
Each of the different regions we entered was advertised with the activities that could be experienced there. The Bassin de Arachdon tantalised us with a beach, sailing and a Parque Ornothologique, but not for me a flamingo and sailing boat; Bayonne called. I was struck though by how energetic these activities were depicted as being – the chap on the beach was not lying prone, he was leaning up on an elbow, the sailing boat had a sail full of wind. I was particularly enthralled by the sign depicting fishing. Those of you who indulge in the sport of fishing probably would not have recognised yourself from the sign. Not for this chap the laid-back repose in his fishing chair, line slack in the water, fag in one hand and a can in the other. Oh no! This chap was engaged in reeling in the biggest carp this side of the Dordogne. His rod and line were taut and his back was arched as he struggled to land his gargantuan catch. Fishing in France is obviously a different kettle of fish altogether.
I made lots of other, and probably far more insightful, observations as I drove the most enjoyable drive I’ve had in many a year but as I was driving I was unable to note them down. I have subsequently forgotten them. If anybody is reading this prior to Christmas and is wondering what to buy a penniless writer…a Dictaphone please! Somebody will now probably tell me I’ve got one on my phone; I hope not, I’ll kick myself.
Formule 1 hotels are even farther down the food chain where hotels are concerned than Etap. I don’t even have a toilet in my room. However, it does have Spanish TV – yay! So far I have watched old footage of the British General Strike of 1926 with Spanish sub-titles and I have learned a new Spanish word – Huelga. I have translated this as strike as it was strike day in Spain. God was definitely smiling on me as I have to drive into Spain, past Madrid tomorrow and they will have returned to work. Result! It may have been a little more difficult if I had been travelling on strike day.
Charlie is now engaged in his favourite sport of Daddy-Longleg hunting which should keep him entertained for a while as 3 have made their way into the room. I on the other hand am going to find some sport of my own to watch and fall asleep to – Man Utd should do it!
P.S. A quick word on The Bitch. She can’t count. Thankfully I sussed this out early on and looked at the roundabout pictures rather than count the number of exits she suggested. She also had a couple of moments when she thought I’d left the road (my driving is not that bad) and got into a bit of a tizz; Follow the highlighted route. The vivid pink on the screen generally matched the ribbon of grey that lay in front of me. We were almost as one.
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