Middle-aged flash packers

I was in two minds as to whether to write about our last trip day. Usually it’s just a day of tedium – long drive, queue at the port, get on ferry, drive home: done.

But not today.

First of all, Steve found a spider in his ear. Ok, it wasn’t huge but it was a spider. I’m hoping it was a money spider as we got Charlie to buy a lottery ticket for tonight’s draw and it’s mega. S was a bit freaked out by the fact the spider could have been in there all night. I don’t blame him, I’d feel a bit like that too.

We had a very pleasant breakfast at our B and B and set off on our long drive well fortified.

We have decided, scarred by previous experiences, that the best way to drive through France is to use the autoroute and hang the expense. No toll roads are interesting for the first hour but take so much longer and have few facilities; it’s just not worth it.

We arrived at Calais ferry terminal 1.5 hours before our sailing with DFDS at 16.35. Quite difficult to find our way in there as the signposting is incredibly confusing but we made it. Loads of time.

But not when you have only two booths open to process tickets, then onwards to have your passports checked, only two booths open there as well. Our queue choosing was very poor with that annoying situation where the other queue ends up whizzing through while you sit there completely static.

An hour later and we were through. Great, but where do we go? Blithely setting off, thinking it would be relatively easy to find the DFDS ferry, it became obvious we had no idea where to go and we hadn’t been given a line number or in fact any information as to how to find it.

We followed another lost soul who located someone to ask. We asked the same person but ended up following the lost soul who it turned out was sailing with Irish Ferries. Damn it. Time was running out.

We ended up in the P&O lines which obviously wasn’t where we wanted to be either. I collared an employee who had no idea but suggested I might get help at the P&O ticket office at dock 8. We roared round the corner, past some bemused terminal police, in the direction of dock 8. I then spied the DFDS ferry but it looked too far away to get to in time.

It was at this point that S morphed into James Bond, squealing round corners and heading for the ferry in pretty much a straight line which didn’t conform to most of the road markings. He did keep saying “I don’t know where I’m going” which spoilt it a bit but it was all very heroic despite that. We drove through some bollards and appeared to be heading in the wrong direction along a road with lorries coming down it, but I could see that we were almost there. At 16.25 we screeched to a halt beside a DFDS employee as she was waving a load of lorries onto the ferry. I gabbled some nonsense at her and she directed us to a short queue of cars waiting to get on.

MADE IT!!

We were literally shaking and laughing hysterically. Within minutes we were on board.

What I can’t understand is why no one stopped us. S would have given Lewis Hamilton a run for his money and I swear we drove through areas that were prohibited. Lucky for us but might not be so great if someone’s got a bomb.

Pimping our ride again, we were handed a much needed glass of fizz when reached the premium lounge. Should have been a martini, shaken and stirred – but I’m not complaining.

The rest of our journey went as usual, tedious but uneventful. Thank God.

Now we are home, watching the sunset, and looking at the garden which has become a wilderness while we have been away. Our neighbour just asked if we’re planning our next trip – not yet, but give us a couple of days.

We didn’t take many photos today so I’ll end with a selection from our trip. And by the way, we didn’t win the lottery.