Rudely awoken at what seemed like a very early hour by a gang of screaming
children jumping on bed. Removed earplugs and eyeshield and crawled out of
bed and caromed into wall. Realisation that we had only a few hours to pack
and leave gradually dawned. At breakfast certain individuals were attempting
to disguise their self-inflicted suffering through bravado and there was no
time for a run to the boulangerie.
After several cups of black coffee, I endeavoured to strip beds, pack my bags
and clean the bathroom out. No particular plans had been formulated for the
evacuation of the property and needless to stay Angie ended up doing a lot of
it until Madam Hamon arrived to assist. In an inspired move the night before,
Nige had packed most of his kit into the Maestro, which had acquired
TARDIS-like qualities after he had removed the carpets from the boot, filling
every available cavity with cornichons wine and sausages. For subsequent
trips he bought a trailer!
Gavin set up stall in the yard outside the backdoor on a small card table and
started to prepare the final holiday accounts. Much counting of coins and
shuffling of chits, thats chits with a C, and income and expenditure analysis
followed. When the figures were reconciled and balanced, the masses were
summoned. Despite scant regard to the essentials of budgetary control during
the holiday, amazingly a rebate was issued to all concerned. Gavin must be
the Paul Daniels of accounting circles.
At that point the next family arrived and were perhaps a little intrigued to
be met by such a welcoming party with the head honcho sitting magisterially
at a table near the entrance dispensing largesse. It was good to hear a
common tongue again even if they were from Essex. Pleasantries were exchanged
but they had arrived too early so we turned them away and told them to come
back when we had gone. Eventually, after what seemed an age we were packed up
and ready to go.
Our ferry back to Plymouth was from Roscoff, but we were not due to sail
until the next day so we drove to St Pol de Leon which is close to Roscoff,
where we had planned to stay over for the night. There was an air of
irritability; everyone was weary from the bacchanalian excesses of the
previous evening and the nerve-fraying tension of leaving, this coupled to
the anticlimactic gloom of the end of the holiday.