MY UNUSUALLY LONG ABSENCE from writing has coincided with an equally unusual period of otioseness punctuated by yet another enforced trek across Europe by land which contained all of the upsetting details as outlined in Sunday Morning of June 2010 (We’ll Always Have Paris and The Smell of the Continent), except this time with the family in tow and with a ferry from Dover to Calais to boot.
FORTUNATELY, THE TRIP IS NOW little more than a memory; that is, it is a recurring nightmare, containing scenes reminiscent of Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner series, but taking place in France at railway stations, quaysides and cafés and with dialogue by Harold Pinter. For those who are ignorant of the series – or indeed of France – a crash course in how to complicate life à la française follows: (this takes place in the impeccable French spoken by my good lady wife and I, although my youngest son’s serious interest in the language was halted after he learnt that “Oui oui” was French for “yes”).
EXT/INT – FERRY RECEPTION OFFICE, CALAIS. DAY
Three passengers (GENTLEMAN, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN and YOUNG BOY) dragging luggage enter the brightly-lit reception office having alighted from the P&O cross channel ferry boat we see in the background. The GENTLEMAN approaches an information office to speak to a UNIFORMED FRENCH OFFICIAL.
GENTLEMAN
Good morning. Where do we get the advertised free shuttle bus to Calais-Fréthun to get the High Speed Train to Paris, please?
OFFICIAL
The bus doesn’t run anymore.
GENTLEMAN
I see. So where can we get a taxi?
OFFICIAL
There are no taxis here. Everyone used to get the free bus, so the taxis stopped coming and the local council removed the taxi rank sign. Now they are not allowed to come here.
GENTLEMAN
I see. So how can I get a taxi, please?
OFFICIAL
I don’t know. Maybe you should phone.
GENTLEMAN
Indeed. Might you know a number?
OFFICIAL
Yes. (Long pause while OFFICIAL picks nose)
GENTLEMAN (Preparing mobile phone)
And could you perhaps give it to me?
OFFICIAL
You cannot use a mobile phone at a frontier station.
GENTLEMAN
Of course. Well could you perhaps phone for a taxi for me? I’ll give you the money.
OFFICIAL
We cannot accept money.
The GENTLEMAN is joined by the BEAUTIFUL WOMAN at the information desk. In the background the YOUNG BOY is enjoying himself skipping about in circles dragging his luggage, unaware of the drama taking place.
BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (to GENTLEMAN)
What is the problem, honey?
GENTLEMAN
We are in France.
BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (To OFFICIAL)
Can you phone a taxi, please?
OFFICIAL
Oui, oui, madame! Why did you not ask?
Similar content was repeated over the next couple of days. Back to Europe.
