Yesterday we saw the small convoy of 3 cars reach Calais passport control following an incident free run north through the French countryside and you, the reader, maybe wondering what was the drama which I have so far avoided describing. Well, tonight I will let you all off the hook and tell all. The Judge has overturned the Super Injunction.
Dad was at the front of the queue coming into the port, with Mum passing the 2 2CVs as the guys stopped to retrieve passports and tickets from car boots and jacket pockets, but then dropping back to take up her position bringing up the rear. The three drivers each chose a different queue at passport control and pretty much trundled through abreast, with Dad's central queue possibly moving slightly faster. Relieved to have come back up through France in such old cars successfully, the boys are focussed on getting home, returning the Mmle car to its dry-store lock up.
Passports checked (twice) Dad trundles his car the few yards to check-in, noticing both Andy and then Mum following him across the gap a few moments later. Here Dad's middle queue is definitely moving faster and he notes both Mum and Andy swapping out of their lanes behind him to choose faster moving queues. Andy is 2 cars in front of Mum. Dad gets his boarding card - a small hooked piece of paper to hang over the rear view mirror reading X31, relaxes and heads off to find the lane number mentally ticking the lower-number lanes off as he drives forward.
He is expecting to happen exactly what always happens both outbound and inbound; all three cars end up in the lanes waiting 2 hours for the ferry to start boarding; all the humans get out, wander about, chat, find a coffee etc. Instead he sees that lane 31 is empty and the only vehicle in any lane is a white van in about 36. Ah well, he thinks - it is 2 hours till the ferry leaves. But no! Man-in-hi-viz-jacket waves an arm and says in heavily French-accented English "Straight on board - up the steep ramp to the upper deck, s'il vous plait"
Dad complies, happy to have passed one more milestone - "safely aboard ferry", he gets out of the car on the vehicle deck and is immediately approached by 2 well dressed French speaking business-men (Algerian?) who admire the 2CV, start talking about how much they love them and telling him about a Mehari (plastic bodied desert/beach variant of the 2CV) one of them owns. Dad tells them to wait a few minutes and an even older 2CV will come down the ramp, namely Mmle. Andy duly arrives a few minutes later smiling triumphantly and hugging Dad in a "we made it!" gesture.
Then the phone rings. Dad's (work) phone has not worked all the time they've been in France for calling out or sending texts but can receive both. "Where are you?" says a confused Mum. "On the ferry", say the boys. It seems that the vital 2 car difference between Mum and Andy on the check-in queue had been the point at which the kiosks stopped checking in cars for the earlier 18:40 ferry, and switched to the real booked 20:30 boat. Mum had got a boarding card saying T61 and was way over to the left of Dad's lane, first car sitting waiting the 2 hours while the queues built up and Dad and Andy's boat cast off and steamed away over the horizon.
Mum was understandably a bit dis-chuffed about this and about being 'abandoned', lost in France and there was, what I believe is called a 'frank and open discussion in which some robust views were aired'. Ahem. Up on deck, watching Calais become ever smaller behind the ferry, Dad borrowed Andy's phone to send another apologetic text and got one back about "the small figure raising a finger in the air is me!"
Long story short, the boys got home via depositing Mmle back in the lock up, about 20:30 UK time, by which time Mum would have been sailing an hour, and she returned safely about 22:00 with a few more choice words about driving like the Virgin Mary. Dad has had to eat plenty of humble pie and has had to buy fizz, chocolates, flowers and an apologetic card in order to restore things to normality. I suspect he may never drive through a passport control or a check-in in front of Mum ever again.
Ooops
Deefs
2 comments:
OK, now I really know I shouldn't laugh as your Mum would kill me (I beleive she is on the phone to Mrs S now while I read this, I think she heard me) but that is very funny, but rather your dad than me, I would have been expected to wait at Dover until the next ferry came in, in the cold, with hot humble pie waiting to be served on a silver platter with a brass band playing in the background.
I wouldn't expect Mr Silverwood to wait in Dover for me... I would expect him to jump off the boat and swim back to shore to be with me xxx
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