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Hotel showers and French Arrivals

Day 2

So – 9.5 out of 10 for the Heathrow T5 Holiday Inn Express shower.
Power, heat and a detachable head, along with free shampoo and shower gel.
It negated the pain of the 3am alarm call 

Also towels that fit the body and not just the size of a cloth handkerchief.

 I do not give shower praise lightly.

From here, we shuttle bussed it to Heathrow. I love Terminal 5. I feel like I’m in a space port.

I’ve never been in a space port, but my imagination is fabulous.

I was bewildered by the array of breakfasts on offer at Giraffe, and, in a panic, ordered porridge. It was bloody lovely, but the arrival at the next table of 16 “stags” and their English breakfasts accompanied with “the first beers of five days of fucked-up-ness” ensured our hasty departure. They did look like they were having a great time, but I’m a mother now, and little people have keen ears.

We caught the train to our departure gate (in the manner of princess Leah or similar) and boarded our flights. We were the front row of the Cattle Class  Euro Traveller, and so seated just behind the four rows of business class. As far as I could see, for their extra dollar, they got a tray with their breakfast and the curtain just in front of my seat got closed for the duration of the flight. Presumably so they wouldn’t have to look at our poverty-stricken pauper faces, or catch some skint from us.

There was no one in the seat in front anyway. So arses to your segregational curtain, BA!

Almost before we took off, we were descending. Paris is not far. And as we looked out of the window, we saw the Eiffel Tower. I was more excited by this than is reasonable, really. I don’t know what I was expecting to see or not see out of the plane window as it flew over Central Paris, but it did make me happy.

Two trains and a 3 mile walk later (it looked closer on the map) we arrived at Paris Est Camping, in bright beautiful sunshine. Kelly, the world’s least rushed woman, eventually got her head round checking us in, and led us to our holiday home. 

Her conversation with me went like this:

Me: beautiful day isn’t it? Really quite warm.

Kelly: yes

Me: looks like we picked a good week

Kelly: yes. And it did rain


Kelly: where are you from? England?

Me: yes. Nottingham

Kelly: oh.


Kelly: This is yours. We live on site, so….. Bye

She is English, by the way.

Anyway, the thought of catching a train back into Paris gave us the shakes, so we decided to brave the supermarket. Joinville le pont is really lovely and has a lot of bread in it.

But then we are in France now.

Also – French crisps. Bravo

I’m guessing the rest of today is going to involve sleeping.

Nigh night 


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