Our last day in France and we decided to go to the local Auberge for lunch as it was recommended by the landlady of our petit maison du vacances. As per usual, we entered into the spirit fully, consulting the dictionaire and ordering stuff we'd never heard of. It was the worst food we had while we were in France and I got very sick.
Then we had the 3 hour drive back to the Ferry in the morning after a night of constant Ertha Kitts, interspersed with multicolour yawns into the great white telephone. When we arrived in Cherbourg I looked like this.
And then when we get across the channel, after travelling about 160 miles in France (about 3 hours) we have to go 80 miles on pony English roads - 3 hours. They may have poisoned us and they haven't fought a good war since Napoleon shuffled off this mortal coil, but by crickey, Johnny Frenchman knows how to sort out the traffic.
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