Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Perhaps Jack's threat to ItsWill's route-finding manhood had been premature because,
after weaving around a couple more narrow lanes, we came to an abrupt halt. We had ar-
rived at the designated lay-by.
“Good gracious! Take a look at
that
, darling.”
Jack's reference to 'that' was a severely battered (of course) Peugeot 206 leaning
heavily over to the left and out of which was emerging, or rather falling, a very large lady.
I have always been of the opinion that many French women seem to naturally exude
sex-appeal. There are exceptions and without being too unkind, this lady was one.
Madame
Rougé was definitely not an example of the
femme fatale
that so often glides down the
rues
of
la France
.
In trying to describe her there are many things I could say but probably the easiest
coverall would be that she was a very hefty lady. She was also resplendently dressed in a
variety of long flowing dark robes and a pair of stout, sensible shoes which further added
to the general impression of comfortable bulk. This was the sort of person who fascinated
Jack. He stared at her goggle-eyed.
“She's a big girl, isn't she? And she's got hair like a haystack.”
“No, darling, it's supposed to be like that. It's a perm.”
“Well, she needs to go back and get it finished then. It looks a bit
avant garde
to me,
but perhaps it's windy where she lives. Oh no, now look!”
“What?”
“Poor car! Now that she's out, it's at least six inches higher on the driver's side.”
As we sat there admiring this waddling personification of the suffragette movement, it
suddenly became clear that all was not well. She came nose to nose with ItsWill and star-
ted yelling. Then they were both yelling. Violent gesticulations and finger-wagging added
further colour to the process and in no time at all, Biff, brave-but-dim, decided this hullaba-
loo was an issue requiring his attention. He started simultaneously yelping and scratching
frantically at the car window ledge.
Sam, on the other hand, hadn't heard a thing and was still snoring gently next to him,
cosily snuggled up in his nook. I could understand why Biff might behave like this but Jack
couldn't. He was far more concerned by the ripping sounds of the car upholstery and sum-
marily cuffed him on the backside to curb his enthusiasm.
Back to the humans and this was becoming a truly gripping exchange. The finale
of which was when
madame
plunged a great paw into her tiny car and produced a well-
thumbed ring-bound road atlas. She leafed through a few hundred pages, momentarily
looked puzzled, then leafed through a few more, located the relevant map and triumphantly
thrust it under ItsWill's nose. With a vicious stare, she then raised and dropped the tome
from quite a height onto the bonnet of his lovely old Merc.
Bang!
“Gosh! Road atlases at dawn,” whispered Jack under his breath, now thoroughly im-
pressed.