The Gallic misadventures of a Milford village idiot abroad.
Sunday: My birthday! – and my wife has to be nice to me for one day. We had whole lobster in restaurant, for only £26! Amusingly, I asked if it was French lobster (I asked the waiter, not the lobster) and he said “Non, no one can afford to buy French lobsters!”
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Monday: Expecting our first guests, Tim (my wife’s Dad) and Eddie (Tim’s biker friend), we set off on a trip to the supermarket to get some food in, I was loitering & drooling around the patisserie when I was attacked like a deranged Legionnaire by my wife. “You don’t want any of that!” she exclaimed. I quickly replied; “I was looking for something for your Dad.” Top move on my part, and I was spared further pain when she replied; “Oh, that’s OK then, get him something nice.” What a Daddy’s girl!
Tim and Eddie arrived, it had been a good day for a motorcycle ride, only rained most of the way. Both were previously ‘CHIPS Style’ motorbike cops, so they had enthusiastically accepted the invitation to inspect the French road laws. Swathed in leather and looking severely bedraggled, they pulled into the drive. Not sure what the neighbours made of the two monster bikes with leather clad riders dismounting, but thankfully neither of them had their formerly large moustaches from the seventies and it wasn’t ‘Gay Pride Week’ in Deauville.
Tuesday-Wednesday: As the guys regularly do road trips, they have become a cross between a perfect married couple and The Chuckle Brothers. The boys spent their days with us exploring and playing on the ‘D-Day Beaches, as well as discovering unexpected parts of Normandy. Each evening they meticulously planned their routes, calculated journey times and discussed what to eat and where. Then, on leaving our drive promptly got lost each day.
Thursday: Before the guys set off for home the next day we decided to have a meal out in one of the many local restaurants. Eddie’s meal of ‘langoustines’ arrived, the giant prawns looked quite plump and ever so slightly vicious. Alongside Eddie’s plate the waiter had left a sachet with an image of a large lemon on. As we all tucked in, Eddie opened the sachet and started squeezing the wet wipe with what he thought was lemon juice for his prawns. My wife and her dad sat dumbstruck, and knowing it would be impolite to laugh, I simply exploded into a fit of giggles falling to the floor and writhing about uncontrollably. So as not to embarrass our guest, I quickly pretended I had just recalled a joke I had heard this morning about Paul McCartney’s first row with his new wife, apparently she is spending twice as much on shoes as his last wife.
Friday: Finished third book and twentieth baguette. Mum, brother & sister in law and two good friends arriving tomorrow. This is sure to be traumatic, hope Peter hasn’t bought his guitar!