We’re off…5 bags in the hall, one for sheets and towels, one for summer gear, one known only as the bag of bags, and the Book bag - 6 books each - that should do.  I’ve made the tea, N is awake.  It’s 5.30, a high summer day in June.  Little cat Kitty must be kissed a few times on her dear head and told we are coming back.  Oh the picnic bag - a couple of apples each - the frozen banana sandwiches, and Nick will make the thermos of coffee.  We’re up and dressed.  Nick is already putting the bags in our red VW - hood down, plus the two maps - one down to Dover - just in case, and our oldest and best Michelin.  Our key to the whole of France.  A neighbour sees us and waves.


Through the Blackwall Tunnel, out the other side, and we’re on the Dover Road.  Drive drive drive….see the castle and the sea.  Of course we’re early, we always are.  The good man gives us early crossing tickets and our lane number.  There is time to tweak our GB plates, and our headlamp reflectors.  Up the ramp and into the belly of the boat, park where we are told.  Hood up and seal the car, check our whereabouts on the deck and up the stairs, and the wider spaces.  We’re going Club Class of course - always do.  Ten quid more and we get a whole padded bench each and as many coffees and croissants as we want.  Nick gets a good sleep.  I check the White Cliffs…Our boat is called ‘The Pride of Kent’.


Soon we’re in Calais with its difficult routings.  Not difficult for Nick, he remembers it all, and is anyway a Navigator and a Reader of Maps Extraordinaire.  I have page 32 open.  Have I missed the turning and ruined the whole holiday?  Of course not!  For although N is driving on the French side of the road, his sensitive fingers have found that junction by touch alone on the map and he is now directing us towards the ‘correct’ way of by-passing Rheims:  Can we pronounce it?  Yes we can!  We need the A344  Got it!  Where are these Luberon Mountains?  


This year we have taken a small apartment in Bonnieux.  But wherever we’ve been we must eventually go back.


A month has passed.  We’re heading for Paris.  Our old friend the Peripherique has begun to show its face.  But it’s ok!  We just want the great Porte d’Italie.  No trouble for the Map Meister.  Now the Place d’Italie and Rue Pascale.  Our best friends in Paris live here;  Geraldine and Jean-Philippe Postel.  Now we are safely gathered in and can explain to them the wonders of France - its history and Geography.  They seem grateful to be told…Well, they’re here today - we can ask them.