It was quicker to fly in and out of the UK for my Berlin soiree, so I arrived back at Heathrow quite late in the evening. The comfortable Sofitel is oh so convenient in Terminal 5. Was a super easy transfer over early in the morning to Terminal 3 for my Toulouse flight. Nothing like a good English BA lounge breakfast to start the day. Make that, also to end the day, as always so hearty you don’t need to eat again.
My flight to Toulouse was once again so civilised. A very warm welcome as a QFF and have been so lucky so far with all BA flights, always my own row. There was hardly time to read a few pages of my latest dragon soft porn before an easy landing into Toulouse in brilliant sunshine.
Oh, the joy though of picking up a car. What a saga. I was worried about driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road as haven’t done it for a while, but that was the least of my problems. I just needed a car that would drive. The car I had booked they couldn’t find (??? not sure how you can lose a car). Second choice was a little mini with racing stripes (I will really stand out in Montcuq). Lovely Avis man kept telling me it was electric, but why would it have a fuel tank ?? Got in the mini (definitely petrol), figured out how to drive it (sort of) and headed out of the carpark (amazing that I remembered the code to get out). Next thing, the car is screaming at me in French, and it was like no driving I have ever experienced. Figured out (OMG) which side I had to park on, and yes, tyre completely flat. I have no idea how I managed to get the car back into the carpark. By this time, I was feeling slightly stressed. Man scratched his head as they had no more cars. He did point at a hire bus to me, but no French was needed – he could tell I was unimpressed by my massive finger waving – Non Non Non. He sighed, shrugged, and said I would have to take a new car. I was so relieved to be tossed the keys to a new little hatch with 30kms on the clock. When I got in and the Apple CarPlay worked, I thanked every French Saint I could remember – of course, Saint Joan of Arc first (I do love Orléans).
My last visit to Montcuq – never been forgotten. Totally lost in the dark with four children. Credit card wouldn’t work, no petrol, no fuel station that would take cash, gendarme in Montauban, drive down dark, terrifying lane, Lyd convinced we were about to be murdered. This time, drive through Montauban in brilliant sunshine. Of course, I drove like a grandma – well a respectable 100km an hour, but still had cars whizzing past so damn fast I couldn’t tell the colour.
My last encounter with French toll roads was terrifying (four kids in the car fighting made it more terrifying). Dutifully collected my ticket, drove the 50km or so to the next barrier. Put my ticket in, tapped my credit card, barrier went up. No charge on my credit card which has me slightly worried, but lovely Kate and John who were walking their Bichon in the Montcuq fading light reassured me that barrier doesn’t ever move if payment not OK.
I worship at the Chapel of Apple and the lovely CarPlay directed me to the beautiful village in the Lot. The massive key worked and once I had the shutters open and the kettle on, I felt slightly more human. I have not slept more than three hours at a time without constant waking up but my first night cosseted away in the dark with the shutters closed to the world – woke up maybe ten hours later to the church bells. The sun reflecting off the beautiful limestone, the super quiet tiny village (I think I am the only one here), and the spectacular countryside out the window – the world seemed slightly more on its axis (before I turned on BBC news and then the world felt like a scary place – I quickly turned it off).
Sleeping under the stars 