Having been of the front lines in Normandy for the last three weeks sorting out the gite accommodation and the new business, the time had come for me to return to England for some rest and relaxation. It wouldn’t be rest and relaxation but I can’t help using the military expressions now I am living in Normandy.
I had the tickets booked to travel by train from Carentan, via Paris and London to get to our English home in the Midlands. Actually, over the last few days, I am starting to wonder where home is. I never thought that I would feel this mixed up so soon. My dad always said that when you make your bed, you must lie in it. I have made two beds and this makes the whole story that bit more complicated.
I have a daughter from a previous long term relationship called Georgia and this is the second bed I am referring to. It is extremely difficult for us to be separate and I try my best see her as much as possible. Now that I am in Normandy with my wife and other children, this has become even harder. Never the less, I have made the beds and I have to lie in them as much as I can.
Last night, I explained to my two boys that I had to leave for England and my eldest son, Yoann, found this hard to accept. He is very sensitive and was very close to tears. I had to try hard not to shed a tear myself, especially when he gave me so many convincing arguments to stay. I explained that I need to see Georgia and his answer was to let her come here; good point. I explained that I need to go back to work to earn money, to which he replied, the man who stayed in the gite just gave us some money; good point. I tried to make him understand that we need the money for clothes and food; to which he replied, we have just eaten and we have got some clothes already. His responses made me think more and more about what is important in life. His naivety made life seem so simple and I started thinking that I wish it was this simple.
Just before 6am the next morning, it was time to leave for the station. I went up stairs to give my sleeping boys a kiss before I left and this made me very emotional. I think my wife was feeling the same too.
The journey from Carentan to Paris was really uneventful; however, I am sure that I would have found some funny things to write about if I were in a better mood.
The Eurostar train from Paris to London was quite busy for a Monday morning and I found myself sitting at a table seat with three other women; probably in their early twenties. I couldn’t help listen to the conversation and it was funny to listen to their stories and their experiences. I am sure I was the same at their age and already knew most things about life. I couldn’t help thinking that they were a little deluded about life and that they would be in for a few shocks as they got older. Anyway, who am I to say, so I just sat there taking it all in. It is a bit hard not to when you have three excitable young ladies putting the world to rights right in your ear hole.
One of the young ladies had one of those annoying sympathetic voices and every time one of the others made a point, she would say “yeahhhhhhhhhhhh” and “uuuummmmmmmmm”. These two pronunciations were that long, to occupy the time and to stop myself from screaming in pain, I would count how many seconds each “yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh” would last; I had suddenly become autistic. I was now analysing the words to find trends in the length of there duration. By the time we had exited the tunnel and arrived back on English soil, the word “yeahhhhhhh”, now started to sound like someone dragging their fingers down a chalk board. I couldn’t stand it any longer and wished them a good day and went to sit somewhere else. This was greeted with a, “uuuuuummmmmmmmmm, yeahhhhhhhh. Byeeeeeeeeeeee”. Now the other words had caught this disease!
The train from London to the Midlands from St.Pancras, arrived near enough the time it should have departed. As the time for departure grew nearer, you could sense the atmosphere; the passengers starting to get into the siege mentality mind set. People would nudge closer and closer to the ticket barrier and you could hear other people muttering, they are pushing in. “George, do something about it”, an old lady whined. By the look on George’s face, it looked as if that something he would have liked to do would be to leave his wife.
When we were finally allowed to board the train, it was like a gigantic funnel and this hoard of people were trying to fit through one ticket barrier. The siege mentality had changed to sheep mentality. There were about four or five barriers but everyone seemed hell bent on passing through just one; at the same time! I thought the idea of the ticket barriers was to keep people without tickets from boarding trains. The sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed the one man on the barrier and I imagined that he would be trampled to near death if he had tried to stop anyone.
As I had suddenly become autistic, I started doing a survey of how much luggage people were carrying. In my carriage, it appeared that the average for each person was 2 super size suitcases, 1 arctic exploration rucksack with integrated tent and camping stove, a wide screen laptop and an Ipod.
Watching people trying to store luggage on a train would make great TV. The scene in my carriage resembled the barricade in Les Miserables. At each end of the coach, there were passengers struggling to force their super size cases into the over head luggage racks. Anything bigger than a packet of cigarettes would not fit; however, these brave travellers were not deterred.
To add insult to injury, the Train Manager made an announcement. The monotone voice stated “welcome on board. I kindly ask all passengers to store their luggage in the space provided”. I wondered where this space was. Perhaps there was a removals truck on the platform that was waiting to whisk the bags of to their home addresses. This was followed by, “please keep all isles clear of luggage to allow our at seat trolley service to pass through the train”. I couldn’t help thinking that this trolley must at least be four wheel drive and equipped with a battering ram. It would certainly need that to get through Jean Val Jean and his barricade in coach D.
After about 30 minutes into the journey, the anti suitcase assault vehicle, or at seat trolley service as it is better known as, passed through the train. The poor man pulling it had his work cut out and already had a sweat on. Sensing the resentment from the passengers as he asked them to move the cases, he made no offer to sell anything. I think he wanted to abort the mission and returned to base; however, it appeared that he crashed and burned. His May Day alert advised us that, “due to the trolley being unable to pass through the train, the trolley service has been terminated at coach C”. I half expected to hear the words “a replacement bus trolley service will be provided”. To top it all, we were kindly told that, “The trolley is now stuck in coach C so if you would like any refreshments, please rendezvous there. May Day, May Day, we have a man down in coach C”.
At least all this action has made the journey pass by quicker. I am almost at my destination, 8 hours after leaving Carentan. I had better get used to this as it looks as if I will be doing this journey and the one back to Carentan, every week from now on in! “Bon voyage” as they say in French, or in English, “are you bloody mad!”
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