A three day drive through England, France and most of Spain wasn't top of my list of fun activities but with a couple of nights in pet friendly hotels and a comfortable seat (admittedly less comfortable after 6 hours straight driving) in the over filled car it wasn't so bad. The Boo, I would have to say, behaved impeccably and proved himself the perfect uncomplaining travel companion. Having never been one for reading whilst travelling by road I wasn't anticipating digging into the stache of books I'd packed but once we hit the quieter (and straighter) motorways of France and Spain I just sat back (the mister did all the driving) and enjoyed a couple of novels which certainly helped pass the time.
Our stay in Spain was puntuated by reading the remainder of the book pile plus a few extras (a couple of books deserve a post of their own), some gentle pottering (me) and odd jobbing around the house (him, though the services of Boris had to be secured to tidy up our palm tree which is now taller than the house), a lot of eating (including the obligatory churros y chocolate and now I really do need to lose some weight), a little shopping (we came across a shop selling hand carved Pinochios of various sizes) and a fair bit of quaffing of the red stuff.
Elaborate Semana Santa processions were in evidence over Easter, culminating locally in the Burial of the Sardine (yes, I did wonder if I'd heard that right) celebration with its strange mix of decorated floats each depicting the sardine and a Greek god, scantily clad Brazilian dance groups, Sardinero torch bearers in their tall, pointy hats and the throwing of thousands of toys to the crowds lining the streets before finally setting fire to the sardine. (No pictures, unfortunately.)
In his wisdom, the mister decided to drive home via a different route (up the left hand side of the map) with an overnight stay in Millau in the Mid Pyrenees, a town with an impressive viaduct and surrounded by the most stunning scenery. It was a pity we didn't have time to explore, especially the caves where the Roquefort is matured. Maybe next time.
En route to Calais the following day, the sat nav warned of stationary traffic ahead and advised a detour which we decided to take. Progress from then on was incredibly slow as we stopped/started through endless sets of traffic lights, hopeful of re-joining the motorway at some point.
Him: I wasn't expecting to be diverted through towns.
Me: Which seem to be getting bigger and busier.
Him: I have no idea where we are.
Me: Well, this road's called Avenue Victor Hugo.
Him: There's the Arc de Triomphe.
So it was.
Dead ahead.
Ever tried driving around Paris on a busy, rainy afternoon?
Thought not.
