I drove to the ferry a couple of weeks ago and stopped in a service station, not one with petrol and shop, just toilets and picnic tables. As I stood munching on my ryvita and cheese, followed by an apple, I watched the French unload their lunch. Out came tablecloths, real cutlery, china plates and serviettes, bowls of fresh salad, cheese, ham and the proverbial bread and wine. Yes they know how to travel in style. I read a book once about the British and French armies in North Africa. The British sat down any old place with a tin filled with corned beef while the French army set up tables, cutlery and all the trimmings and even candelabra. Well at least they seem to have ditched the candelabra.
My son, my sister and I went to Spain for a few days. It was challenging. My sister is terrified of everything that involves travel and technology, even putting a train ticket in the barrier to get in and out of a station defeated her. She has no sense of direction and managed to get lost in the hotel several times. Thank goodness my son who has learning difficulties was there to help me keep track of her. Shouldn't it be the other way round?
Meanwhile the Brits in the hotel were stretched out by the pool sunbathing by the time we finished breakfast and they were still there when we returned each day in the late afternoon. They were like beached whales, turning red and brown , seemingly oblivious to the skin cancer warnings and how boring. The majority weren't even reading a book or looking at the inevitable phone. By 5.30pm they had filled the bar at Happy Hour.
While the Brits were sunbathing the Dutch were off touring, always as a group. They swept in for breakfast en masse, gathered in the car park en masse and disappeared for the day, reappearing for dinner, again en masse. On the last day of our visit, a lady appeared for breakfast in high heeled shoes, a body hugging dress, pearls, a huge hat and black gloves, which she kept on while her husband? lover? waited on her. We observed from the next table and watched as she tried to shell a hard boiled egg. Finally defeated she took the gloves off to perform this task and elegantly put them on afterwards. The hat never left her head.
Back in the UK I decided to go to the little cinema to watch Dowton Abbey. I was sitting in my seat, minding my own business, waiting for the film to start when I was aware of two women standing next to me staring. One woman raised her stick and prodded me in the thigh. 'She is in my seat,' she said to her companion and prodded me again. 'I am not in your seat', I replied, 'and stop prodding me.' She raised her stick again and I quickly said, 'if you prod me again I shall call the management.' At this the other woman said she would go back to the ticket desk and check. Meanwhile the other one stood guard with her stick at the ready. Finally the woman came back and muttered that their seats were further down and went off to find them. No apology to me of course.
My son, my sister and I went to Spain for a few days. It was challenging. My sister is terrified of everything that involves travel and technology, even putting a train ticket in the barrier to get in and out of a station defeated her. She has no sense of direction and managed to get lost in the hotel several times. Thank goodness my son who has learning difficulties was there to help me keep track of her. Shouldn't it be the other way round?
Meanwhile the Brits in the hotel were stretched out by the pool sunbathing by the time we finished breakfast and they were still there when we returned each day in the late afternoon. They were like beached whales, turning red and brown , seemingly oblivious to the skin cancer warnings and how boring. The majority weren't even reading a book or looking at the inevitable phone. By 5.30pm they had filled the bar at Happy Hour.
While the Brits were sunbathing the Dutch were off touring, always as a group. They swept in for breakfast en masse, gathered in the car park en masse and disappeared for the day, reappearing for dinner, again en masse. On the last day of our visit, a lady appeared for breakfast in high heeled shoes, a body hugging dress, pearls, a huge hat and black gloves, which she kept on while her husband? lover? waited on her. We observed from the next table and watched as she tried to shell a hard boiled egg. Finally defeated she took the gloves off to perform this task and elegantly put them on afterwards. The hat never left her head.
Back in the UK I decided to go to the little cinema to watch Dowton Abbey. I was sitting in my seat, minding my own business, waiting for the film to start when I was aware of two women standing next to me staring. One woman raised her stick and prodded me in the thigh. 'She is in my seat,' she said to her companion and prodded me again. 'I am not in your seat', I replied, 'and stop prodding me.' She raised her stick again and I quickly said, 'if you prod me again I shall call the management.' At this the other woman said she would go back to the ticket desk and check. Meanwhile the other one stood guard with her stick at the ready. Finally the woman came back and muttered that their seats were further down and went off to find them. No apology to me of course.
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