Bord-D’Oh…

Had one of the best days of 2017 so far (and certainly of 2016 too, which had little to rival anything) last Wed.

Landed in Bordeaux with Janine, and headed to Les Sources de Caudalie, a vinotherapy based spa hotel in incredible grounds, which we last went to as a girly group of 5 for Jane's 40th. We'd estimated it had been about 6 years ago, but apparently it was a full decade, so we were well overdue a return visit.

Easy taxi drive from l'aeroport to the hotel and within 20 mins, we were on sunbeds by the spa pool in 27 degree glorious sunshine. Had it all to ourselves for several hours, paperbacks and snoozing all lined up. Simple, quiet and a huge, huge treat. Followed by a fantastic dinner outside, watching the very late sunset light up the huge metal giant hare, one of its signature sculptures around the grounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ross and Mr H arrived on cue the next morning, with the furry hounds in our car, and off we headed to our Airbnb on the edges of Bordeaux. It was about 2 miles before we got there, that there was suddenly a loud bang, and the back of the car sank down, then started to chuck us from side to side. Yep, the whole suspension system had inexplicably exploded. Disinterested French bloke came to collect the car Thurs eve and throw it in a car park for the holiday weekend, no chance of getting their lazy continental asses to fix that before our planned Sunday return.

Nor was there any chance of us, getting a hire car on Thurs, Fri, Sat nor Sun, so it transpired. Despite Bordeaux being the second biggest city in France (who knew?) not one car hire place had the sweet combination of being open or having any wheels to rent. So we were housebound and seeing the vineyards and Arcachon were no longer going to happen. Boo-ordeaux.

Luckily the house was lovely and crucially had a pool. Which Little Miss Scrumpy quickly made her own, once she'd worked out where the steps were to get back out again. Endless flying leaps of doggy joy into her new pale blue lake, much to daddy's delight. Luckily there were daily drops of olive leaves in there to be scooped up, so any white fur was also easily removed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flossy was less sure, falling in once as she over balanced to reach a ball in the water, and not fancying a return visit. So I chased her with the hose each afternoon, as it was waaaaaay too hot for a woolly black dog-goat otherwise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We made the most of it, barbecuing delights from the local Traiteur and with one dinner out in Bordeaux which was top notch. Ticked all the intended scoffing boxes – fruits de mer, fois gras, metres of crusty bread, stinky fromage, huge crab claws – although garlic snails evaded me this time round, to everyone else's good fortune.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Had to slog by foot to the nearest vets with the dogs as if you are in France for more than 5 days, they need to be seen and wormed – job creation for frog vets or what. Flossy went in an was an angel, eating her worming tablet like a good girl. Scrumpy is older and wiser and wasn't having any of it. I started off holding her, then the vet assistant came in to help, then H had to prise her jaws open as the vet thought she would bite him. Eventually she succumbed – 43 euros later we were stamped and certificated, and only slightly mortified at her strength and determination not to open her mouth.

J and I flew back on Sun, leaving the boys spending an extra night there, before finally securing a hire car back to Calais. John Nurse then kindly drove our other car across with a chum, via an overnight fun stop in Le Touquet, to pick up 2 men and 2 dogs and return them all to Blighty. Apparently the insurance didn't cover that bit and you couldn't take dogs as foot passengers on the ferry or LeTunnel, so international rescue was required.

No sign of the car as yet – here's hoping it reappears soon as having to taxi to and from Parkside this week has been a ball ache. I managed to catch a monster cold/probable flu and have been feeling dreadful, unable to do the slightest little chore. Hence have watched every episode of BGTalent and am very 'up' on the finalist array.

Yesterday afternoon, at last, the antibiotics and excellent French Sudofed finally kicked in, and I have stopped sweating and shaking and coughing my guts up, just in time for dinner guests tonight. Thank god – we had to cancel this very same group of lovely chums last year at the last minute as I was ill, and I just couldn't believe that it was going to happen again, all because my bloody state of health can't be trusted.

Hawksey was trying to cheer me up as he left for work yesterday morning, saying 'it's June today – three weeks till we go to Croatia' but instead of that being nice, my immediate feeling was fear. Fear that I'd still be ill, or would get something else that would ruin it. It's pretty crap when that's your first reaction, and with good reason.

But today, Mojo has poked me awake at 5am and I'm definitely much better. Got up to go downstairs and neck today's antibiotics and tablets as soon as poss, so they can get working. And to now write this, back in bed at 5.30am, as it's been a few days since I have been well enough to.

Cheers to Lyds for being the turning point. I drove up to Putney Heath with dogbeast yesterday to meet her for a very gentle walk and pub lunch. Couldn't eat much – the tuna tasted fishy, was it my tastebuds or genuinely a dodgy sandwich? – who knows. Anyway, fab to catch up with a top bird and even better to be back in the land of the living. Soooooo much nicer than feeling like death warmed up, and just a pile of shopping and prep to do today before we finally repay much hospitality today night x