Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Mick was talking from the television in the corner of the room - French breakfast television
was showing a clip from the film
Looking For Eric
and it just happened to be the bit that
Mick was in. It was one of those absurd coincidences that life sometimes throws up and ad-
ded to the whole surreal nature of the previous twenty-four hours. Though at the time, being
alone and not knowing where I was, I found it quite scary!
The diagnosis was actually quite prosaic. The internal scar tissue of my old external ap-
pendix wound had wrapped itself around my intestines and finally my body had shut down,
unable to cope.
'It's very common,' said the doctor in Ruffeq. A sentiment echoed by our family doctor and
the sundry 'medicos' in Natalie's extended family too, 'very common'. For the last two years
I'd been poked, prodded, invaded and pumped full of drugs and apparently they'd missed the
obvious. Very common indeed! Bloody cheek!
Eventually I got home, a wounded, poorer individual and almost immediately the phone
rang. It was Julia.
'I've been thinking,' she mused before I could say anything. 'I think we should do a run of
shows over Christmas.' I gave her my reply, going completely against the advice of the doctor
who had warned me not to get agitated and to remain calm. I never heard from Julia again.
So we'd tried estate agency and running our own comedy shows; we'd also tried to make a
living from br
ocantes
, eBay, selling cushions and chutney. Now we needed a radical rethink.
'Why don't you both go away for a couple of days and think about things?' asked Natalie's
mum, immediately after Christmas. 'We can take care of the place, can't we, Brian?' Brian
looked a little sceptical to be fair, even for a couple of days three young boys and the frantic
hubbub of the menagerie wasn't something to be taken on lightly. We didn't give him chance
to object.
The city of Tours was once the medieval capital of France and it's one of my favourite
places. Less than an hour from where we live, its airport is a very useful Ryanair hub. Every
Christmas we go there with the boys to see the Christmas lights and they stuff themselves
silly on toffee apples and ba
rbe à papa
(candyfloss). This time was different though, Natalie
and I were on our own for two whole days. Taking advantage of Natalie's parents' generosity,
we gave brief instructions of how to feed, clean and care for the horses, dogs, cats and chil-
dren - and got out of there quick before they changed their minds.
A couple of days to ourselves in Tours was just what we needed. Natalie's life had become a
merry-go-round of various kinds of animal droppings and outdoor maintenance, so a chance
to go shopping in some of the more up-market French boutiques had her salivating before
we'd even got there - and I was eagerly anticipating spending two nights in a hotel and not
actually being on my own!
Tours is a cross between the bohemia of Brighton and the academia of Oxford or Cam-
bridge, with the ancient buildings of the medieval capital thrown in. Like any city it has its
