Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Jack obviously hadn't drunk enough wine so I left him to stew in his own misery.
We were en route to La Grillade in the Var. It was more or less in the middle of our
remaining Provence viewings so we would stay there for the next few nights. This was an
exciting prospect, for me at least, because it meant that I could actually unpack the suit-
cases and iron crumpled clothes, wash 'smalls' in the sink and properly relax. It would also
allow the dogs some decent walks in the country.
It had been highly recommended by an English man-and-wife team of estate agents
who were based in the area. The Potters had been extremely efficient and had kindly sug-
gested and then booked us into a dog-friendly hostelry. In fact they seemed altogether ex-
tremely normal and didn't even take umbrage at the idea that we might view
domaines
that
were not part of their portfolio. So I was as confident as I could be that we would not be
disappointed.
Our inter-departmental crossing south from Drome Provençal to the Var inevitably
began with a winding road which caused my estimation of an easy 'just over an hour and
a half nip down the autoroute' to be slightly inaccurate. But conditions were good and the
dogs, who had behaved impeccably throughout the day, were relaxed and snuggled up in
the back so I wasn't overly concerned.
Ignoring Jack's grumbles about the length of the journey I started a recap of the day's
events. It was a good opportunity to pin him down and anyway we did need to share our
thoughts. Just as I began Jack interrupted me.
“Before you start banging on for hours about today's properties let's be clear, neither
of them were any good. Quite apart from the fact that they didn't have enough land to plant
a cabbage in, the first one had catering facilities for coach parties. It also had more security
gates than Greenham Common so there's obviously some sort of a crime problem there;
although God knows where the criminals come from in that countryside. And as for the
second, if you think I'm going to live in a terrace made for cattle with a suspended loft con-
version and marijuana plantation, then you're severely mistaken. And, by the way, there
wasn't a
live
wild animal in sight at either of them. Apart from the rabbits and they don't
count.”
“Well, yes, that's about it then. I suppose I do agree. Shame about the first house
though, it was lovely. And the rabbits were definitely alive,” I responded defensively.
But he was right, there was no point continuing with either. Renewed anxieties flooded
my imagination. Would the rest be like these? Surely not. I was convinced that the next
one was a dead cert. But if for some unfathomable reason it wasn't, how long would it be
before Jack finally snapped and called it a day? Surely my research couldn't have been
so
badly flawed, could it? I couldn't bear the thought of throwing in the towel early, but the in-
terpersonal danger signals were there. The facial tick, for example, was always a precursor
to an explosion. Suppressing any further neurotic thoughts, and focussing on the promise
of the next visit, I got back to practical matters. I contacted both Charles (who was back
