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unravel. It's uniquely associated with hotels but so consistent that, if I'm with Jack, I've
developed a habit of always following, never leading. Otherwise, it's just so embarrassing
to be stopped at every turning.
“No, darling, it's
this
way,” he would tell me with a resigned chuckle.
And once again it seems I may not have taken proper notice of our room location. So
when I marched through the sliding doors to our room, still dripping and intently focussed
upon lecturing Sam, I was shocked to find myself at the bottom of 'our' bed and looking
directly at a couple of complete strangers.
They stared back, completely dumbfounded and made a scrambled grab for the duvet
which they quickly drew up to their chins. I was absolutely mortified. I hung on to Biff,
but as I raised my hands in an attempt to add gravity to my
désolés,
I accidentally let go of
Sam.
The sodding dog, completely drenched, immediately started motoring around the base
of the bed as he tried to dry himself against the valance.
“OUT!”
I screamed with no noticeable reaction from Sam but it elicited a clearly aud-
ible shriek from the lady in the bed. (Which, under the circumstances, was quite under-
standable.)
With her eyes popping out on stalks, she clutched her partner and slumped further
down in a desperate attempt to become invisible beneath the duvet. It was not our finest
hour.
Countless more
désolés
later and having finally ejected Sam, I crept back to what I felt
must be the correct pair of sliding doors, taking care to peep in first so I didn't repeat the
same mistake again. Jack unfortunately spotted this.
“Lost again, darling, or did you decide to take the dogs shopping?” he asked. “We
could have driven to
Paris
and back by now!”
In a magnificently cool moment I replied that I would not dignify such a question with
a response. Was it not in fact the man's job to race around a hotel swimming pool, chasing
after unruly dogs?
I would love to report that our breakfast was an eventual success but that would be a
lie. By the time one dog was dried off and the other had calmed down (and the wee mopped
up), the hot food was greasy and cold and the cold food was soggy. Croissants would have
been a better option.
Never mind
, I thought.
At least it was another matchless bright and sunny day and we
had our next domaine to look forward to
.
We finally gathered ourselves together, checked out as discreetly as possible and
set off for our morning appointment. Today's route would take us south-west toward the
Pyrénées and Spain. The closest main town was Ceret, but ItsWill had arranged for us to
meet his agent, Thierry de la Souza, in a small village en route to the property.
