06-09-2018, 08:24 AM
Nick and Judy live in what can best be described as bohemian heaven - their house is crammed with artworks and old furniture. We were given the entire upper floor to use and made very welcome indeed.
The girls enjoyed feeding the chickens, the horses and their dogs - arriving at this point I remember sitting in the courtyard and looking over at the Pearl, we had 70 miles to go but had come near enough 2500. The car had performed incredibly well, coped with all we had thrown at it. When undertaking such journeys there is a dread that hangs over you, at any moment it could all go horribly wrong. Every nut and bolt was put together by me and I often visualised them whizzing around, a nagging in my head that one might let go and it would be game over. Yet, here we were in Pas De Calais, I raised my glass towards the car - cheers!
The girls got to spend the day at the beach during which we lost Poppy for 10 minutes, it was absolutely terrifying. Coastguards went out on quads hunting and I eventually found her though binoculars, being led by a man towards us. She had told him (in French) that she was Scottish and he brought her to the station - perhaps the longest 10 minutes of our life, quite a lot of tears and a family conference followed...
We needed cheering up that night and a visit to the seafood market helped!
The next morning we dragged our heals leaving - this was our last full day in France of the trip and I don't think any of us were ready to admit it. We travelled through the backroads ending up north west of St Omer, my father had booked us a mobile home to stay in - we were the first occupants and had a view across the canal and into the waterways of the natural wetlands. It was perfect for us, quiet and clean - we had a night to reflect on our trip and look at the route we had taken.
Next morning we left early and arrived a short while later in Calais - it took over 2 hours to get through immigration and security but we made our boat on time. As we touched down in England there, at the side of the road, was Robert, waving - I could have cried! He led us, with his Ulster, through busy Dover, onto the backroads of Kent and back to our tow car which he had kindly stored, along with my transporter trailer, for 5 weeks.
The girls enjoyed feeding the chickens, the horses and their dogs - arriving at this point I remember sitting in the courtyard and looking over at the Pearl, we had 70 miles to go but had come near enough 2500. The car had performed incredibly well, coped with all we had thrown at it. When undertaking such journeys there is a dread that hangs over you, at any moment it could all go horribly wrong. Every nut and bolt was put together by me and I often visualised them whizzing around, a nagging in my head that one might let go and it would be game over. Yet, here we were in Pas De Calais, I raised my glass towards the car - cheers!
The girls got to spend the day at the beach during which we lost Poppy for 10 minutes, it was absolutely terrifying. Coastguards went out on quads hunting and I eventually found her though binoculars, being led by a man towards us. She had told him (in French) that she was Scottish and he brought her to the station - perhaps the longest 10 minutes of our life, quite a lot of tears and a family conference followed...
We needed cheering up that night and a visit to the seafood market helped!
The next morning we dragged our heals leaving - this was our last full day in France of the trip and I don't think any of us were ready to admit it. We travelled through the backroads ending up north west of St Omer, my father had booked us a mobile home to stay in - we were the first occupants and had a view across the canal and into the waterways of the natural wetlands. It was perfect for us, quiet and clean - we had a night to reflect on our trip and look at the route we had taken.
Next morning we left early and arrived a short while later in Calais - it took over 2 hours to get through immigration and security but we made our boat on time. As we touched down in England there, at the side of the road, was Robert, waving - I could have cried! He led us, with his Ulster, through busy Dover, onto the backroads of Kent and back to our tow car which he had kindly stored, along with my transporter trailer, for 5 weeks.