At Last

·     Mon.12.11.07. At 5.00am on Monday morning there were only three remaining cars that departed for the Dover Calais ferry. Paul had let the Doc down at 9.30pm on Sunday night without warning very unfairly, wrapped up in the guise of some feeble fairytale about an expired passport. Responsibility was never his strong point, there had always been a sense of inevitability about Paul’s lack of commitment to the trip. Consequently ‘Doc’ had turned to the bottle only crawling into his pit at midnight. After almost breaking down the door of the pub in an effort to raise the comatose landlord he emerged tired, confused utterly bewildered. Soon after digging his fist into the till dragging out the nights takings the convoy set off no later than 5.30am. 

                       The Beaujolais Run.

The group now consisted of just seven people, instead of the original ten. Kenny and Norma Brooks the lager louts, Dave and Julie Young, friends of Kenny (Dave is probably the tallest man in the world, soft and dryly spoken, his wife Julie from Sheffield thoughtful, honest and caring) the ‘Doc’, Jo and I now made up the Wigan compliment. David and Julie Green planned to join the rest of the group in Beaujeu on Wednesday for dinner then continue with us to Buxy for the gourmet meal at ‘Aux AnneesVins’. 

Cockney Mick had previously poured cold water upon our ETA at the docks claiming that we would not, as hoped, catch the earlier ferry of 12.15. “You’ve no fackin’ chawnce, you’ve gotta set orf at free firty if you wanna get to Landon befoa mornin’. My bruvva sets orf at five an’ only gets into work at ‘arf too. Me, I sets orf at ‘free firty an’ I’m on site at foa forty”.

Even so we did manage to be on the docks by 10.30 which meant we easily caught the 12.15pm arriving at Calais for 2.30pm local time. A small problem whilst checking in was shrewdly averted when the customs officer queried the names of the passengers. I had previously booked our passage on line but realised half way through the transaction that I didn’t possess every ones surname. Thinking on my feet staring glass eyed at the screen I entered the first handles racing through my empty mind. Kenny and Norma became Mr and Mrs Loggins, Dave and Julie Young translated to Green, Alan was Sugar, Paul’s girlfriend Julie Andrews. Conveniently my car was adjacent to passport control so I was able to explain the very recent changes in personnel. Being a charitable event, as displayed by our new promotional Polo shirts, it was necessary to keep the party fluid, work commitments, child minding, parole violations, ASBO’s and tagging were recited as the main causes for change. By 6.30pm we had checked into the De la Tour in Honfleur, we were quickly enjoying the first red at 7.00pm.

Later in the evening we found ourselves wandering around the picturesque quayside in search of a bistro dinner. We settled for a quaint busy, very French, ‘Billy’ restaurant. The first collective meal of moules, oysters, entrecote, poulet and cabaillourd, proved to be a great impromptu success. The service had been extremely pleasant, the food simple, wholesome but tasty the setting by the harbour was an instant hit with everyone. Well into the night we enjoyed welcome and deserved late drinks in another quayside bar, we had spent far too much money but no one seemed to care; we had made a super start to the trip. Having said that, Honfleur seems to have turned into ‘billy town’ in the last 15 years? I cannot think why.