Open Writing

And we headed south again to get the trailer. I went to attack the problem with gusto, but found to my despair that the new wheel, while the correct dimensions, had only three holes for bolts; our previous one had four. This new wheel would therefore not fit. Fortunately, we had kept the old wheel as a spare.

But we were now in serious difficulties. Nobody had any money left, and we were not even going to make the 5 pm ferry unless we could get moving. Furthermore, the garages all shut for two hours starting at 12 noon and we needed the new tyre on the old wheel.

“Right, guys!” I said. “It is time to go for the sympathy vote.”

I got them both out in their wheelchairs, and they sat and looked as pathetic as they could at the side of the road. It was not long before a couple stopped.

Now to explain the problem. We needed that tyre, but on that wheel. We needed it quickly because we had to catch a ferry…. The couple that had stopped left in a cloud of dust with our various tyres, wheels etcetera, obviously on a mission.

*

We were kicking our heels. I went for a short walk, for some space. I met a farmer, who indicated the trailer tent, and said, “I was up early this morning, and I saw your trailer, so I came back and said to my wife, someone has had a puncture.”

I had obviously been too angry for too long, because I remember distinctly thinking, “Gosh, there is a genius hiding in the backwoods of France,” – such was my frame of mind.

I responded amazingly graciously by saying that we had had problems since the middle of last night. He then asked “Would you like to come and wash your hands in my garden?”

I was very puzzled, not having had many invitations like this. It was obviously not in the same category as, “Would you like to come up and see my etchings?” My hands, I suddenly realised, were very dirty, what with tyres and wheels, so I agreed to go with him.

We entered his garden through an old wooden swing gate, and there in pride of place, surrounded by the most beautiful floral display, was an old hand pump. The water was lovely. He then asked if I had managed to have any breakfast. I had to confess that I had not. He produced three massive tomatoes – I had never seen anything like them – and instructed me to take them and share them with my friends.

*

So, I returned in a much better mood to find the French couple had returned, the mission had been accomplished, and they helped me to sort the wheel. I was so grateful, and we had so little to give them by way of thanks.

We set off yet again, this time very aware that the clock was ticking, and we had nothing left for food or drink. We had to make the ferry.

*

We screeched into the dock at Le Havre with five minutes to spare – but not good news. This meant we were the last car to load, and so were furthest away from the lifts. How were we going to manage? However, with help it was done.

We unloaded the wheelchairs, avoided all bonnets, bumpers, windscreens, while we lifted them towards the elevator. We got them open and ready and then we went back one by one to carry the guys over the same assault course.

Now, how were we going to co-ordinate getting off? This is the busiest time for the staff and the passengers. I suggested that we perhaps wait until the coast was clear of all other traffic, and then come down. This seemed to meet with general, if casual, agreement.

*

We arrived at Portsmouth absolutely exhausted. It had been impossible to get any rest, as the boat was extremely busy and noisy. Our exit strategy worked well, and we were just psyching ourselves up for the next part of the trip when the Customs flagged us down.

It is really difficult to explain now what I felt, apart from that I had somehow accidentally entered a comedy strip. Customs Officers need to be taken seriously, however, and everything had to come to bits. If I had had time I would simply have sat down and cried. I was very grateful that I had packed everything in the trailer tent, and the only thing in the boot was toiletries and wheelchairs.

I opened the boot, and the Customs Officer doing the inspection was immediately taken aback. He realised that the occupants could not exit the car.

“I’m sorry,” he explained, “but I am being overseen.”
He indicated the cctv camera. “I will make this as painless as possible.”

Once he had dismantled everything possible, prodded about in the petrol tank, asked an amazing range of questions, taken the cooker and trailer section apart, he let us go. He did help to put it all back again (door panels, etc.,), for which I was extremely grateful, because I know that strictly speaking they are not obliged to replace anything they remove.
*

We tried to make up lost time, but both drivers were too tired to be safe, and eventually pulled in to the side of the road for a sleep.

Then we took off again, keen to miss rush hours, but it was very slow going. Perhaps because of the levels of tiredness, neither driver was confident. We arrived home 48 hours after our departure. at 4 pm on Monday.

I don’t remember the journey to tell you about it. We were all totally exhausted, having spent not one of these 48 hours in a bed.

I do know that we wondered when we were going to get a holiday!

© Linda McLean