France with a Four-year-old

My grandson, usually known in Blogland as The Boy, is now four years old, as he will tell you given the least provocation ("I am four you know, Gran!").  He is obsessed by trains, and the thought of a train that takes cars under the sea was irresistible.  So I said that we would take him to France for a day, so that we could go in a train that takes cars under the sea (aka Eurotunnel, of course). 

He spent the previous night with us, and on the Monday morning we were up early and away slightly later than planned, at 07:45, but still made our booked crossing, with no time to call in at the terminal.  The Boy found the subsequent wait rather boring (so did I!), but was enchanted when we had to drive on to the platform to get on the train!  It had not occurred to him that this would be necessary.  We were on the top floor, and he was just slightly nervous when we had got parked and it was time to get out, but he coped admirably, and enjoyed visiting the loo, and going into the compartment behind us with his grandfather - this was empty, so he could run around.  They also went downstairs to have a look.

The plan had been to shop first, then go to Cap Blanc-Nez to have a picnic lunch, then go to Boulogne to play on the beach and then walk - or scoot in the Boy's case - round the walls of the old city.  The first part went without a hitch; the weather was fine, and there was a lovely view across the Channel to the White Cliffs of Dover.

We had our lunch, and then headed off in the car to Boulogne.  The Boy fell asleep, despite my attempts to keep him awake with raisins - he woke up with them clasped in his  hand and said "Ooh, raisins!" surprised to find them there!

The beach, too, was lovely.  Even I, who don't like beaches much, enjoyed walking on the sand as there were so many different kinds of sand - dry, damp and firm, damp and squishy....  The Boy was fascinated by his own footprints, and by various other footprints there were, of dogs and birds and other people.

 

And there was paddling:

But then, sadly, it all went pear-shaped.  When we got back to the car, the Swan Whisperer couldn't find his key - and we realised that someone else had found it, and had stolen our satnav, all the charging leads (but not, oddly, the multi-charger that plugs into the one and only socket) and, worst of all, my beloved binoculars.  And the first-aid kit and warning triangle, so we were now illegal.  We were, of course, extremely lucky not to have lost the car, the shopping in the boot, and the Boy's beloved scooter.  I think what I mind most, apart from my binoculars, is the clever lead that plugged into the satnav which made it able to tell you where there were traffic jams.

We should, with hindsight, have called the police, but neither of us thought of it.  And we didn't like to move the car nearer the walls of the town in case the thief were following us - we just wanted to get away.  So often bad things happen to us in Boulogne - we have had a puncture there, I drove our previous car into a ditch with the Boy's mother when she was 8 months pregnant with him, we got caught in a serious blizzard (and I have never been so frightened, as the French are even worse about driving in the snow than we are in the UK - but the Swan Whisperer was marvellous, and actually enjoyed himself that time)... and now this.  No, we are never, ever going to Boulogne again, and our day-trips will either be in Calais itself (something I was reluctant to do this time as there has been some unrest among the would-be migrant community there) or north towards Dunkerque.  Which is where we headed.

I felt sorry for the Boy - if it had been just us, we could have driven round all day, or something, but with a four-year-old.  But he was very, very good.  I don't know how much he gathered of what had happened, but he didn't fuss or anything, and enjoyed a second walk/scoot with his Granda in some random seaside resort north of Calais.

Then it was time to start thinking of supper, so we drove back to Calais, got petrol (which we didn't need, and I didn't think was all that much cheaper, but still), and then went to the Buffalo Grill for an early supper - all the people there were British, having an early supper before going home, we were amused to note.  The Boy had a burger with rice (he chose that instead of chips, and ate most of it), followed by a scoop of chocolate ice-cream.  The waiter raised his eyebrows and asked if he wouldn't prefer the children's lolly that was part of the set meal, but no, he wanted a scoop of chocolate ice-cream, and I was pleased to note that this was allowed as a substitute.  He had orange juice to drink.  I had a steak with ratatouille and then a crème brulée, which I had been fancying  (it wasn't part of the set menu, so we had to pay extra, but the Swan Whisperer very kindly said that was all right), and beer to drink, and the SW also had steak (but a more expensive one) with chips followed by chocolate mousse, and also beer.  It was all very good, although the Boy steered clear of the starter salad they give you as a matter of course in that place. 

And then it was time to go back to the Eurotunnel, and again we didn't have to go to the terminal but went straight through.  The English passport control were far more stringent coming in than going out, and we had to produce the letter of authorisation that the Boy's parents had given us; his passport is now four years old, and he really doesn't look like that any more! 

He was most disappointed that we were on the upper level again, but we explained that you didn't have a choice, but had to go where you were told, and Granda took him down to see the lower level before taking him to find a loo that wasn't locked out of service (as the one in our compartment was) to clean his teeth before we got him into his pyjamas and snuggled in a blanket in the (vain) hope he would go to sleep on the way home.  Apparently another family were doing the exact same thing, so they had to wait while several lots of teeth were cleaned and final pennies spent....

Google navigation on my phone, while adequate, isn't quite as good as the satnav, and we got one or two wrong turnings on the way back to Walthamstow, but got there in the end.  A cup of tea later, and we set off on a remarkably painless drive home (it is so much quicker and easier to use public transport that we always do if at all possible), after what ought to have been - and mostly was - a lovely day.

Overnight booze-cruise

As we hadn't been to France yet this year, we had run out of all sorts of things that we normally buy there, either because they are cheaper (coffee, wine) or difficult/imposisble to get here.  And when I discovered that I could use my Tesco vouchers to get up to £30 off a Shuttle crossing, it was a bit of a no-brainer.  You can stay overnight for the same price as a day-return, so we decided to do that and have a mini-break.

Due entirely to my own innumeracy, we left slightly later than we meant.  The drive was not very pleasant, as it had been raining, and then the sun came out, which was in exactly the wrong place as it dazzled up from the wet road, and cars and lorries were sending up clouds of spray and the sun was catching them, too.  We were thankful when it went behind a cloud again!  We just made it to the crossing we were booked on - no time to go into the terminal, or even to stop in the loading queue!  The train left earlier than we expected and we arrived in France at about 11:45 local time.

First stop was at the garage just off the exit, as we wanted to buy yet another holder for our satnav, the one that the Swan Whisperer bought to replace the broken original had, in its turn, broken on our way to Folkestone (yes, we do know the way; the satnav in this instance is mainly for traffic purposes - it knows when there is a mega hold-up and will send you round a quicker way, if possible).  That  duly bought, plus coffee, we set off cross-country to St-Omer, where we found a random restaurant to have lunch in.  The SW had pork, chips and salad, and I had an omelette with chips and salad - massive amounts of chips and almost no salad, but never mind!

We drove to Arras and parked in the town square, which was very beautiful.  It was, I think, rebuilt after the first war, but not sure what was destroyed in the 2nd.  We were beginning to need petrol, so I cleverly programmed the Satnav to take us to a petrol station in a shopping centre en route to our hotel - last time I'd asked it where the nearest petrol station was, it had taken us to one in the opposite direction to where we had wanted to go, which was totally my fault, not its.  But I thought there must be a way, and there is - you click on "Browse maps", and then "Find" and one of the options is POI en route, so you click on that to find petrol or hotels or whatever that you want.  It also cleverly tells you how much of a detour, if any, it is, and then you click on "Navigate to" and it takes you there!

The hotel, however, turned out to have been a mistake.  It was a Campanile - we had so loved the one we stayed at in Luxembourg last year, we thought it would be nice to stay in one again, and given the price I was able to get, it was just about worth it.  But we were greeted by a very unfriendly young man at the check-in, who grunted something in French - I can usually follow well enough, but he mumbled!  Eventually realised that the reception and restaurant were in a separate building from the rest of the hotel, which was a kind of barrack-block across the car park. 

There was a kettle, which was nice, but no tea-bags, only sachets of instant coffee and tisanes of various kinds, and disposable cups so you could only use them once.  Fortunately I had brought my own stash of teabags and our travel cups!  In the bathroom there were no hand-towels, and nowhere to put your used towels - there was one hook, but it was obscured by the notice telling you to hang up your towels if you wanted to re-use them.  There was no hair-dryer, either.  There were no heavy curtains, only net ones and shutters (I hate shutters), and although we were not overlooked, people probably walked past.  And being on the ground floor your couldn't have the window open overnight, either, and I couldn't see if there was air-conditioning or how to make it work.  Not doing that again!

We ate in the hotel restaurant; the starter buffet looked a bit meh, so we ordered the plat du jour, which was blanquette de veau.  Quite nice.  Then we had the dessert buffet, which was lovely, and the SW had coffee. 

Breakfast next morning was good, although I could have wished for a hard-boiled egg with mine. Still, bread and cheese and ham and stuff like that.... not bad! 

We set off at about 09:00 and first went into the centre of Douai, being amused by how very quiet everywhere was once people had gone to work or school or wherever.  The centre was okay, but we didn't linger.  Instead, we drove to Cambrai.

Now, that is a lovely town!  I should have liked to have done more of the tourist-walk they provide (we picked up guides from the tourist-office), but my leg isn't up to much walking.  We did see the old belfry, one of the city gates and the cathedral, though.  The cathedral is not the original cathedral, not built as such, so it is as small as Southwark cathedral.  Apparently the original was torn down during the French revolution!  And the present building was all but destroyed in both wars.  Sigh....

We discovered too late, too late that it is free parking on a Monday morning!  Still, that came in handy when, just as we pulled away, we saw signs for a public loo, so we were able to park again and use it before heading off to Lens.

Lens was a very disappointing town after Cambrai, so we didn't bother to linger but headed to the nearest commercial centre for shopping purposes.  And bought up most of Cora.... which didn't have any harissa or buckwheat flour, so we had to go to Carrefour in Cité Europe to get those, what a hardship!

We had a rather late lunch in the local Flunch (mistake, really, as lunch was obviously Over, and they had very few choices left, although we had a very nice steak), and then it was time to head back to the coast.  As I said, we popped into Carrefour and bought the last few things (and some more wine!).  We had wanted to go to the Tesco there to get some wine, but it had changed hands and is now a fairly posh wine place.

We had half an hour to spare in the Eurotunnel terminal before our shuttle, which we spent eating ice-cream and relaxing, and then home.

But, tragically (well, not really, but sad, anyway) when we got there we found that somehow the rhubarb tart the SW had bought for himself, and the strawberry tarts he'd bought for me, hadn't come with us!  Nor, alas, had the cream cheese.... oh well, don't know what happened, they must have been left at the checkout.  But what a waste, and what a sad ending to a pleasant weekend!