Mondays

 Last Monday my son and daughter in law were due to catch the 8.15am ferry from Portsmouth to Caen.  It was 6.45am when I stepped out of the shower and heard my phone  going.  I snatched it up.  It was a video  call.  'Mum, we have big problems here,'  and before I could speak he thrust the phone into the hands of a Brittany ferries' staff member and said, 'Talk  to my mum.'  Barely conscious of my wet, tangled hair and trying to cover myself up with a  towel which thought gravity was fun, I asked what the problem was.  Apparently they had the wrong vaccination certificates and were being refused passage.  I asked what I could do and she said they could go and get a test and take a later ferry.  'Where is the nearest test centre in Portsmouth?'  I asked.  'There isn't one,' she replied, 'there  is one in Southampton, or Havant.'  What!  No test centre in Portsmouth?  They both have learning difficulties, don't drive and so I had to think fast, giving them instructions to get in a taxi to the  railway station and catch a train to Havant, telling them that I would call with the next instructions, which I did.   My son gave me the address he had been given for the testing centre but it wasn't in Havant, it was actually in another town called Emsworth.  I phoned another son, who was still in bed and asked him to book them a test on line and pay for it.  £65 each!  I phoned my son on the train and told him to find a cash machine in Havant then take a taxi to Emsworth.  I didn't want to think about any possibility of the tests being positive.  They weren't.  Then they had to repeat the whole journey again to get back to the ferry, all  the time dragging their luggage with them.  They arrived at 9.30pm at Caen and I was there to meet them, getting back home at 1.00am.

This Monday they flew back to the UK from Nantes.  The temperature according to the car was 43 degrees.  I left them at security and returned to my car for the two hour journey home.  The air conditioning wasn't working!  I hate Mondays.