Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
he had become incontinent and despite running a battery of tests there seemed to be nothing
physically wrong with him other than the ravages of old age. The vet had prescribed some
eye drops to fix the problem, which sounds bizarre but apparently, according to the chemist,
the old folk around here swear by the stuff. They didn't work, however, which meant we had
to move his bed into a large cage at night so that we didn't wake up to his mess everywhere
in the morning. It seemed a little cruel and undignified, but as he was also by now practically
blind as well he wasn't really aware of that either.
His loss of senses (other than the one that told him it's feeding time) meant that he was re-
lying more heavily on Toby, and that surely must have been the final indignity. Toby's judge-
ment at the best of times would compare unfavourably with that of a drunk twelve-year-
old boy in possession of a chainsaw, so to watch poor old Pierrot hanging by his side, like
Donald Pleasance did with James Garner in
The Great Escape
, was pitiful. And Toby is no
James Garner - he specialises more in hapless, clueless and world-class stupidity (occasion-
ally barking at passing clouds) and even Pierrot, laid low as he was, recognised the absurdity
of that.
Despite Toby's noble efforts, however, Pierrot was getting worse. I had been in England for
only a couple of days when Natalie phoned to tell me that Pierrot had suffered a series of
strokes that left him briefly paralysed and completely disorientated. He had even sought com-
fort with Natalie and the boys, something he hadn't done with any of us since he arrived. I
made a decision to cancel the rest of my trip. There are many advantages to operating below
the 'showbiz' radar, but one of the best is that a replacement can easily be found at short notice
and very few people mind. And I definitely wanted to go home. I will never forget Eddie's
last night; I stayed up with her all the way through it as slowly each of her organs failed, but
she battled on to the morning when I was able to take her to the vet's for the last time. Pierrot
isn't Eddie and it was naive of me to think he could be and an unfair pressure to put on him,
but he's family and the old pervert deserved the best.
I decided to run the gauntlet of the London to Paris bus, partly because it was by far the
cheaper mode of transport at such short notice but also it meant that I could definitely be
home for late morning. It was, however, the most uncomfortable option especially as a couple
of young, aggressive-looking North Africans were trying to intimidate and threaten some of
the other passengers. The Spanish driver, who spoke neither English nor French, steadfastly
refused to get involved so by the time they decided to pick on me they felt pretty much invin-
cible. I had been sitting behind them the whole journey yet it was only now, with an hour or
so to go, that they thought my attire was worthy of comment. I wasn't in the mood for it. I am
not a hard man, far from it, but I refuse to be bullied and just laughed at their rather childish
attempts to intimidate me, which only made them angrier. 'Wait until we get to Paris...' they
said darkly, to which I just laughed again and they settled down to bide their time.
