Hi Everybody,
Well I'm back to find over 27000 members here and some people have changed their names. We've been out of England a bit over five months and I'm a little nervous about coming back on the site to be honest.
We spent some time in Northern Spain, driven north into southern France by high temperatures but that didn't last and we had temperatures up to 38 degrees so towards the end of July we moved up to Brittany and spent almost two months there. No nudist beaches in Finisterre so although I have an all over tan there are some bits a bit paler than others.
I have lots of stuff to pass on if anybody is interested and I see there is a "stickie" for travellers' tales but I don't think the stuff I could pass on - aires de services, E111 (and it's replacement), breakdown services and so on is suitable for that thread so I'll see how it goes. I might try telling some things here and see if I get moved.
The Germans have a saying - "Wann jemand eine Reise tut, dann kann er was erzählen" - which translates loosely as "Travellers tell Tales". Literally it's "When someone makes a journey, then what can he tell".
In any case we just got back late on Sunday and I still have a mountain of mail to get through and I might not contribute much for the next few days. Our threesome is still stable and we had some time together in Spain and France.
In some ways it's nice to be back but wearing clothes again is quite unpleasant.
Anyway - nice to see you all again
Mollie
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Maid in England
Welcome back Mollie 
Blimey, five months away from this lot..... how did you cope
Anyway, I'm sure the Cafe hasn't changed too much, still a lot of old faces around (Postie, Happy Cats) and lots of new ones too..... you'll soon get back into the :swingingchair: of things I'm sure :thumbup:
J
Blimey, five months away from this lot..... how did you cope
Anyway, I'm sure the Cafe hasn't changed too much, still a lot of old faces around (Postie, Happy Cats) and lots of new ones too..... you'll soon get back into the :swingingchair: of things I'm sure :thumbup:
J
Thanks John,
I'm going to be very busy over the next few days but I'm sure you're right and I'll be more comfortable after a few days. I have a 26 yr old daughter still at home and when we got back on Sunday the house had a look of just being spring cleaned - but the garden hadn't so I'm still going to be quite busy for while.
Here's a little Traveller's Tale. If it gets moved it gets moved. It's about Patrick who is a chef in a posh hotel in Biarritz but lives in a campervan and we got friendly over the weeks we were there. He has the French knack of making me feel I'm the nicest thing that's happened to him all day. Lots of French men seem to be born with this knack and keep it into old age. He's about 30 and I'm now 54.
One morning he put his arm round Tom and said "Tom, you are so lucky to be an Englishman in France. All French girls want an Englishman. They never say no to and Englishman". He was talking to Tom but I knew the words were meant for me and my brain was whispering, "Ask me Patrick, I won't say No". Actually, I would have said No but I would have dearly liked to say yes.
But I began to notice that it's true what Patrick said. So very often - in the street, in supermarkets, on the beach and so on - girls and women would flirt with him. The latest time was in Finisterre and we were crossing a pavement when an elderly lady was walking along it. Tom said, "Madame, s'il vous plait" and made that universal gesture that says "After You".
We soon caught up with her and she grabbed him. She grabbed him and they walked along arm in arm while I trailed along behind. My French isn't all that good but good enough to get the gist of what she was gushing to him. "Oh, there is no gentlemen like an English gentlemen. We don't see enough of them in this town. When our boys get to 16 we should send them to England to see how to behave" and so on. She wants to live where I live and she'd soon change her mind. Eventually, I was able to prise them apart but it wasn't easy.
However, the moral of this particular tale is that if you are a guy down on his luck with women then maybe you should try holidaying in France and you might find your luck changes. There might be anothe moral for the women - don't let your man go to France.
Mollie
I'm going to be very busy over the next few days but I'm sure you're right and I'll be more comfortable after a few days. I have a 26 yr old daughter still at home and when we got back on Sunday the house had a look of just being spring cleaned - but the garden hadn't so I'm still going to be quite busy for while.
Here's a little Traveller's Tale. If it gets moved it gets moved. It's about Patrick who is a chef in a posh hotel in Biarritz but lives in a campervan and we got friendly over the weeks we were there. He has the French knack of making me feel I'm the nicest thing that's happened to him all day. Lots of French men seem to be born with this knack and keep it into old age. He's about 30 and I'm now 54.
One morning he put his arm round Tom and said "Tom, you are so lucky to be an Englishman in France. All French girls want an Englishman. They never say no to and Englishman". He was talking to Tom but I knew the words were meant for me and my brain was whispering, "Ask me Patrick, I won't say No". Actually, I would have said No but I would have dearly liked to say yes.
But I began to notice that it's true what Patrick said. So very often - in the street, in supermarkets, on the beach and so on - girls and women would flirt with him. The latest time was in Finisterre and we were crossing a pavement when an elderly lady was walking along it. Tom said, "Madame, s'il vous plait" and made that universal gesture that says "After You".
We soon caught up with her and she grabbed him. She grabbed him and they walked along arm in arm while I trailed along behind. My French isn't all that good but good enough to get the gist of what she was gushing to him. "Oh, there is no gentlemen like an English gentlemen. We don't see enough of them in this town. When our boys get to 16 we should send them to England to see how to behave" and so on. She wants to live where I live and she'd soon change her mind. Eventually, I was able to prise them apart but it wasn't easy.
However, the moral of this particular tale is that if you are a guy down on his luck with women then maybe you should try holidaying in France and you might find your luck changes. There might be anothe moral for the women - don't let your man go to France.
Mollie
Would like to be the one to say "Seeya!!!,,, I'm off to France for 5 months... "
But alas and alack I can't... Still I took an extended break from here too back now not with so much of a vengeance just slip a few snide comments in where I can... But it is a comforting thing to be a member,,, as it were...
Enjoyed your tale hope to hear more details...
But alas and alack I can't... Still I took an extended break from here too back now not with so much of a vengeance just slip a few snide comments in where I can... But it is a comforting thing to be a member,,, as it were...
Enjoyed your tale hope to hear more details...
Thenks to you three - I'l try another Traveller's Tale.
It starts two or three years ago in the ferry port of Ouistreham where we had to wait two or three days for a ferry. Plenty of ferries but we would have been charged and if we waited we would get a free transfer.
So we set up our camp in the town centre car park. When we were settng up the satellite dish (I like my East Enders) we gathered a few interested spectators - "televison anglais? Alors" - who invited us for a drink in one of the cafes surrounding the square. All our conversation was in French but we get by well enough and after a bit the conversation got around to all the German Second World War Invasion Defences littering the coast all the way down to the Spanish Border. Our hosts were outraged by the German occupation of four years.
Tom was getting a bit restless. Then he said (in French) "That's nothing - England has been occupied for a thousand years". Polite interest. "By the French". More interest. "Less than 40 kilometres from here, in Bayeaux, there is a tapestry depicting the French invasion of England. You killed our King Harold and put William, Duc de Normandie, also known as William the Bastard, on our throne" MIld discomfort in his audience. "For a thousand years we have been occupied by the French and they never went home - they are still there"
The audience was getting pretty well uncomfortable by now but Tom stood up, spread his arms wide to embrace the world then tapped his chest and proclaimed loudly "Je suis francais". (I am French). Instant hilarity.
Since then I have seen him use the same story maybe half a dozen times and it always provokes good humour. It always works.
Except when it didn't.
Patrick the Chef and us were free-camping on the norhern side (Riva Adroit) of the river Adour and we had all been invited to evening drinks and snacks by a group of fishermen. One of the snacks was "fish bellys" and our hosts were nothing less than charming so when I saw Tom launching into his French Occupation story I was a bit apprehensive. He got to the bit where the audience is starting to look uncomfortable when Patrick got to his feet, embraced Tom and said, "Tom, you don't have to worry. We won't do it again".
Mollie
There is a bit of a postscript which has only occurred to me just lately. There may be some truth in Tom's story. Our aristocracy, which until recently had a birth-right to govern us, are allegedly interbred, own most of England and are the descendants of the French invaders of a thousand years ago.
It starts two or three years ago in the ferry port of Ouistreham where we had to wait two or three days for a ferry. Plenty of ferries but we would have been charged and if we waited we would get a free transfer.
So we set up our camp in the town centre car park. When we were settng up the satellite dish (I like my East Enders) we gathered a few interested spectators - "televison anglais? Alors" - who invited us for a drink in one of the cafes surrounding the square. All our conversation was in French but we get by well enough and after a bit the conversation got around to all the German Second World War Invasion Defences littering the coast all the way down to the Spanish Border. Our hosts were outraged by the German occupation of four years.
Tom was getting a bit restless. Then he said (in French) "That's nothing - England has been occupied for a thousand years". Polite interest. "By the French". More interest. "Less than 40 kilometres from here, in Bayeaux, there is a tapestry depicting the French invasion of England. You killed our King Harold and put William, Duc de Normandie, also known as William the Bastard, on our throne" MIld discomfort in his audience. "For a thousand years we have been occupied by the French and they never went home - they are still there"
The audience was getting pretty well uncomfortable by now but Tom stood up, spread his arms wide to embrace the world then tapped his chest and proclaimed loudly "Je suis francais". (I am French). Instant hilarity.
Since then I have seen him use the same story maybe half a dozen times and it always provokes good humour. It always works.
Except when it didn't.
Patrick the Chef and us were free-camping on the norhern side (Riva Adroit) of the river Adour and we had all been invited to evening drinks and snacks by a group of fishermen. One of the snacks was "fish bellys" and our hosts were nothing less than charming so when I saw Tom launching into his French Occupation story I was a bit apprehensive. He got to the bit where the audience is starting to look uncomfortable when Patrick got to his feet, embraced Tom and said, "Tom, you don't have to worry. We won't do it again".
Mollie
There is a bit of a postscript which has only occurred to me just lately. There may be some truth in Tom's story. Our aristocracy, which until recently had a birth-right to govern us, are allegedly interbred, own most of England and are the descendants of the French invaders of a thousand years ago.
By now you'll be getting the idea that I like France. It's a myth that "they" all speak English. "They" don't. And it's since we started speaking French that we get on so well in France.
Just as an aside - if you're in France and need help look for some boy or girl who looks about 15. Some of them might still have a bit of English in their heads from school.
Now, like a lot of my stories this one was initiated by Tom. We became friendly with two French men and a French woman. This was two years ago and I had the idea they were a threesome but of course two years ago we were still a twosome. They introduced themselves by the simple method of inviting us for aperitiffs and we became friendly. Then we met them again this year.
Another aside - this happens more often than you would think. Meeting people in campervans that you have met before.
Great pleasure at meeting them again and we went through the touching of cheeks and air-kissing that they go in for and I saw Tom's face take on what I think of his Edwina Currie look. "Quatre pour La France?" he said. "Oui" answered Madame Jocette". "Ah" said Tom, "En l'angleterre, malheureusment. seulement un." That translates as we kiss four times in France but only one kiss in England. "Alors" said Jocette and Tom took her in a bear hug and kissed her on the lips. "Voilla."
Her two guys just laughed and, in truth, she didn't look affronted.
When it got too hot in the sourh and we moved north - we did so on the spur of the moment but it was important to say goodbye to these nice people. Tom shook hands with Maurice and Claude and did the four air-kisses with Madame Jocette.
My turn. M'seur Claude said "Quatre pour La France? Peut etre un pour l'angleterre?" Well I told you it was my turn. I said "Un pour l'angleterre s'lvous plait" and I was soundly kissed on the lips by two very attractive french men.
And that's the story really. I never did find out if they were a threesome and I sort of hinted that we were but they never said they were. I think they were though.
Mollie
Just as an aside - if you're in France and need help look for some boy or girl who looks about 15. Some of them might still have a bit of English in their heads from school.
Now, like a lot of my stories this one was initiated by Tom. We became friendly with two French men and a French woman. This was two years ago and I had the idea they were a threesome but of course two years ago we were still a twosome. They introduced themselves by the simple method of inviting us for aperitiffs and we became friendly. Then we met them again this year.
Another aside - this happens more often than you would think. Meeting people in campervans that you have met before.
Great pleasure at meeting them again and we went through the touching of cheeks and air-kissing that they go in for and I saw Tom's face take on what I think of his Edwina Currie look. "Quatre pour La France?" he said. "Oui" answered Madame Jocette". "Ah" said Tom, "En l'angleterre, malheureusment. seulement un." That translates as we kiss four times in France but only one kiss in England. "Alors" said Jocette and Tom took her in a bear hug and kissed her on the lips. "Voilla."
Her two guys just laughed and, in truth, she didn't look affronted.
When it got too hot in the sourh and we moved north - we did so on the spur of the moment but it was important to say goodbye to these nice people. Tom shook hands with Maurice and Claude and did the four air-kisses with Madame Jocette.
My turn. M'seur Claude said "Quatre pour La France? Peut etre un pour l'angleterre?" Well I told you it was my turn. I said "Un pour l'angleterre s'lvous plait" and I was soundly kissed on the lips by two very attractive french men.
And that's the story really. I never did find out if they were a threesome and I sort of hinted that we were but they never said they were. I think they were though.
Mollie
Sex God
Mollie, your a treasure - keep 'em coming!
Welcome back Mollie !!!
Love the stories, its like reading diaries or postcards from a foreign country... all very quaint and very nice.
I have always found that being an Englishman abroad is generally well recieved, not just in france. Its surpising really considering most countries are supposed to hate us these days, but I think we still have some currancy left to work with.
Love the stories, its like reading diaries or postcards from a foreign country... all very quaint and very nice.
I have always found that being an Englishman abroad is generally well recieved, not just in france. Its surpising really considering most countries are supposed to hate us these days, but I think we still have some currancy left to work with.
This is the second time I have tried to write this story. I pressed the "submit" button and everything disappeared. Ah well, try again.
People are very kind. Thanks for all the responses. Alexandra, I might PM you and we can maybe swap locations and experiences - or do it here.
One of the things people say to us is "What if you break down?" Well we don't break down. The van doesn't know it's out of England so why should it break down? But it did.
There was an incredibly loud bang, the van began to vibrate violently. I thought the engine had exploded and shouted at Tom to switch it off. He said later that he hadn't heard me. Concentrating too hard on controlling the van I suppose.
After steering the van onto the verge I could tell he'd had a near death experience and wasn't too happy. "What's wrong?" "Fucking flat tyre." He doesn't swear so I could tell the stress was getting to him. To me too. "What are we going to do?" "Change the fucking wheel." Still stressed - if you're sensitive like me you can see the signs. This guy was stressed.
We got the jack out. It wouldn't work. A bit unhelpful, I suppose, I said "Why didn't you check it?" "Because you don't fucking check it - just make sure it's there". Still stessed. But he's a very resourceful man and he worked out how to jack the van up.
But the problems continued. Out came the wheel brace but, unfortunately, the nuts holding the spare wheel were a different size. Still unhelpful, I said, "Why haven't you got a spanner to fit?" "Because you expect them to be the same fucking size". Still stressed. I could tell.
Then he said "We've just passed a garage I"ll go back and get them to come out." Unfortunately. 14th July. Bastille Day. France was closed.
My poor man was defeated. Sleep at the side of the road and get the garage out in the morning. Still unhelpful, I said, "Pity we can't get the AA out" and as soon as I said the words I realised I should have kept them in my head and I waited for the explosion.
But there wasn't an explosion - just a thoughtful look. Both of us had totally forgotten that our "rescue" organisation had European cover. We telephoned our organisation (we're with Britannia Rescur but I think GEM and the RAC and probably others also provide free European cover) and I could see my man visibly relax as a calm woman asssured us that somebody would be with us quite quickly. Leave our phone switched on.
Within about an hour a little white van turned up with three very young, very gorgous french men who set about changing the wheel. They took about ten minutes.
Sorry, it's not about "swinging" but I did kiss those young men most warmly. I will lhappily kiss them again.
Mollie
People are very kind. Thanks for all the responses. Alexandra, I might PM you and we can maybe swap locations and experiences - or do it here.
One of the things people say to us is "What if you break down?" Well we don't break down. The van doesn't know it's out of England so why should it break down? But it did.
There was an incredibly loud bang, the van began to vibrate violently. I thought the engine had exploded and shouted at Tom to switch it off. He said later that he hadn't heard me. Concentrating too hard on controlling the van I suppose.
After steering the van onto the verge I could tell he'd had a near death experience and wasn't too happy. "What's wrong?" "Fucking flat tyre." He doesn't swear so I could tell the stress was getting to him. To me too. "What are we going to do?" "Change the fucking wheel." Still stressed - if you're sensitive like me you can see the signs. This guy was stressed.
We got the jack out. It wouldn't work. A bit unhelpful, I suppose, I said "Why didn't you check it?" "Because you don't fucking check it - just make sure it's there". Still stessed. But he's a very resourceful man and he worked out how to jack the van up.
But the problems continued. Out came the wheel brace but, unfortunately, the nuts holding the spare wheel were a different size. Still unhelpful, I said, "Why haven't you got a spanner to fit?" "Because you expect them to be the same fucking size". Still stressed. I could tell.
Then he said "We've just passed a garage I"ll go back and get them to come out." Unfortunately. 14th July. Bastille Day. France was closed.
My poor man was defeated. Sleep at the side of the road and get the garage out in the morning. Still unhelpful, I said, "Pity we can't get the AA out" and as soon as I said the words I realised I should have kept them in my head and I waited for the explosion.
But there wasn't an explosion - just a thoughtful look. Both of us had totally forgotten that our "rescue" organisation had European cover. We telephoned our organisation (we're with Britannia Rescur but I think GEM and the RAC and probably others also provide free European cover) and I could see my man visibly relax as a calm woman asssured us that somebody would be with us quite quickly. Leave our phone switched on.
Within about an hour a little white van turned up with three very young, very gorgous french men who set about changing the wheel. They took about ten minutes.
Sorry, it's not about "swinging" but I did kiss those young men most warmly. I will lhappily kiss them again.
Mollie
I still have more tales to tell. I've ordered a scanner so if I can make it work then I might be able to publish a photograph or two. Of course, I fully understand that pictures of Naked Mollie might not be to everybody's taste.
But some people might remember that I have a liking for odd questions. So I thought it might be interesting, because I like France so well, to ask this.
How many countries have a land border with France?
I don't mean Bretons or Basques or Catalonians. I mean countries which really are countries - like they make their own laws, pay their own income tax and so on. Get the idea?
Most people come up with about six - and they might be right but they could be wrong. Use a map if you like.
Mollie
But some people might remember that I have a liking for odd questions. So I thought it might be interesting, because I like France so well, to ask this.
How many countries have a land border with France?
I don't mean Bretons or Basques or Catalonians. I mean countries which really are countries - like they make their own laws, pay their own income tax and so on. Get the idea?
Most people come up with about six - and they might be right but they could be wrong. Use a map if you like.
Mollie
I have a scanner.
If I can make it work then I'll bore you silly. But you never know - there might be things to help others in their travels.
Right now - what I think is the answer to how many countries have a land border with France. I think there are nine.
Starting at the top right (you can see my navigation skills, yes? Belgium, Luxemburg, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Monacco, Spain, Andorra, England.
Yes. England. Wasn't there a land border as soon as the channel tunnel was built?
Mollie
If I can make it work then I'll bore you silly. But you never know - there might be things to help others in their travels.
Right now - what I think is the answer to how many countries have a land border with France. I think there are nine.
Starting at the top right (you can see my navigation skills, yes? Belgium, Luxemburg, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Monacco, Spain, Andorra, England.
Yes. England. Wasn't there a land border as soon as the channel tunnel was built?
Mollie
It seems quite a lot of people are interested in what we have been doing so the next tale is quite a long one so I'll split it into two or three posts. Right? I haven't been able to get my scanner working properly - well I know quite well that it's me that isn't working properly - so this first post is without picture.
Tom is retired (early) with a small pension and my income is not much more so many people wonder (out loud sometimes) how we can afford the things we do. Well, we travel in a motor caravan and we sleep on car parks and, sometimes, on the side of the road. You can do what we do. If you want.
In England you'll get charged for parking. Also there are notices everywhere telling what you can't do. You can't park overnight, you can't camp, you can't do this and you can't do that.
So you ignore the signs, yes?
Until you get caught.
We have family in Devon so it is convenient to stay in Devon for a while and then cross the channel on the Plymouth to Roscoff route. In April we stayed on a a town centre car park. After two or three days, we were warned off. Stay in the day but not allowed to stay the night, yes? So we paid the fee and stayed on the car park through the day and parked on the roadside for the night, yes?
Off to France and back to Devon in September. Stayed on the same car park. Approached by the same car park wardens. But this time a bit different. Sometimes it's better if I talk to people, especially if it's a man, and so it was this time. I had noticed that there was a lot of rubbish on the side of the car park. "Why don't you clean it up?" "Because there is a young girl living there." "There" was a small brick building that was probably at one time a toilet. And there was somebody living in it.
"It's ok for somebody to live rough here but not ok for us to sleep in our van?"
And the answer was "You won't be bothered." But I have to wonder why we can have people living in cardboard boxes but the authorities ignore them and try to stop us sleeping in comfort without posing a threat or a menace to anybody.
A bit more to follow.
Mollie
Tom is retired (early) with a small pension and my income is not much more so many people wonder (out loud sometimes) how we can afford the things we do. Well, we travel in a motor caravan and we sleep on car parks and, sometimes, on the side of the road. You can do what we do. If you want.
In England you'll get charged for parking. Also there are notices everywhere telling what you can't do. You can't park overnight, you can't camp, you can't do this and you can't do that.
So you ignore the signs, yes?
Until you get caught.
We have family in Devon so it is convenient to stay in Devon for a while and then cross the channel on the Plymouth to Roscoff route. In April we stayed on a a town centre car park. After two or three days, we were warned off. Stay in the day but not allowed to stay the night, yes? So we paid the fee and stayed on the car park through the day and parked on the roadside for the night, yes?
Off to France and back to Devon in September. Stayed on the same car park. Approached by the same car park wardens. But this time a bit different. Sometimes it's better if I talk to people, especially if it's a man, and so it was this time. I had noticed that there was a lot of rubbish on the side of the car park. "Why don't you clean it up?" "Because there is a young girl living there." "There" was a small brick building that was probably at one time a toilet. And there was somebody living in it.
"It's ok for somebody to live rough here but not ok for us to sleep in our van?"
And the answer was "You won't be bothered." But I have to wonder why we can have people living in cardboard boxes but the authorities ignore them and try to stop us sleeping in comfort without posing a threat or a menace to anybody.
A bit more to follow.
Mollie
Well Part Two of this little story. Then I think, probably, only one more. I think I must be tapping into some sort of wanderlust because I see I have attracted nearly a thousand visits.
So you get on the ferry and, immediately, you're in France. We were directed into a parking space and a very nice man took me by the hand (I have a disabled sticker but you'd never know about it by looking at me) and took me into a lift. This was a lift without sides so when it moved it looked as though the walls were moving, yes?
"I 'ave to take care of you" and he did. He cuddled me into an embrace which was probably much closer than needed to keep me away from the walls -but it was far from unwelcome. Hello Sailor!
Then France. Another world. Away from the repressive instincts of tourist England where "they" are probably tryng to protect the owners of hotels,etc. Tourist France welcomes campervans and provides for them.
Like This:
There are more than two and a half thousand of little sites like this. Mostly they are free though some of them might make a small charge in July and August.
One more post and then I'll let this come to an end. But if there any questions I'll be pleased to give them a go
Mollie
So you get on the ferry and, immediately, you're in France. We were directed into a parking space and a very nice man took me by the hand (I have a disabled sticker but you'd never know about it by looking at me) and took me into a lift. This was a lift without sides so when it moved it looked as though the walls were moving, yes?
"I 'ave to take care of you" and he did. He cuddled me into an embrace which was probably much closer than needed to keep me away from the walls -but it was far from unwelcome. Hello Sailor!
Then France. Another world. Away from the repressive instincts of tourist England where "they" are probably tryng to protect the owners of hotels,etc. Tourist France welcomes campervans and provides for them.
Like This:
There are more than two and a half thousand of little sites like this. Mostly they are free though some of them might make a small charge in July and August.
One more post and then I'll let this come to an end. But if there any questions I'll be pleased to give them a go
Mollie
As you can see, I still haven't got the hang of this scanner.
But this will probably be my last post in this thread. I've just been trying to give a bit of information about how people on low income, like us, can travel a bit.
Now in a motor caravan you have four main problems. The first is obtain fresh water.
Then you have to get rid of stuff. Like empty beans tins, pizza wrappings, and that sort of stuff. The technical term for this rubbish is "rubbish"
Then you have to get rid of dish-water, washing water, vegetable water, shower water. The technical term for this is "gray water". Because it's water and it's gray.
Then there's something else. The technical term is "S**t".
Now, if you are in France there is not problem. There are about two thousand or more of these service points. You can get fresh water, empty the loo and get rid of waste water. Mostly they are free though yo might have to pay for the water. You can also get electricity but we make our own.
So if you want to travel I would recommend a motor caravan. Living can be cheap.
Mollie
But this will probably be my last post in this thread. I've just been trying to give a bit of information about how people on low income, like us, can travel a bit.
Now in a motor caravan you have four main problems. The first is obtain fresh water.
Then you have to get rid of stuff. Like empty beans tins, pizza wrappings, and that sort of stuff. The technical term for this rubbish is "rubbish"
Then you have to get rid of dish-water, washing water, vegetable water, shower water. The technical term for this is "gray water". Because it's water and it's gray.
Then there's something else. The technical term is "S**t".
Now, if you are in France there is not problem. There are about two thousand or more of these service points. You can get fresh water, empty the loo and get rid of waste water. Mostly they are free though yo might have to pay for the water. You can also get electricity but we make our own.
So if you want to travel I would recommend a motor caravan. Living can be cheap.
Mollie
Ric (and Alex),
I do have other stories - but some of your own maybe? All I wanted to do was show that there are things you can do even if you don''t have much money.
However, there is one thing. You need time. The ferry fare might be - well is - too large if you just cross the channel for a week. But if you are away for two months or more then it isn't such a large cost, yes? Don't forget, expenses at home are much reduced and there might be ways of reducing ferry costs. We have a discount scheme with Brittany Ferries and we get a third off. If you buy P and O shares, you can get a discount there too.
We are both retired. That's early retirement, yes? I'll say it again. That's early retirement. But we couldn't do what we do if it was just for a fortnight - the travel costs would be prohibitive.
To everybody who has responded, Thank you. I might just tell one or two more tales.
Mollie xxx
I do have other stories - but some of your own maybe? All I wanted to do was show that there are things you can do even if you don''t have much money.
However, there is one thing. You need time. The ferry fare might be - well is - too large if you just cross the channel for a week. But if you are away for two months or more then it isn't such a large cost, yes? Don't forget, expenses at home are much reduced and there might be ways of reducing ferry costs. We have a discount scheme with Brittany Ferries and we get a third off. If you buy P and O shares, you can get a discount there too.
We are both retired. That's early retirement, yes? I'll say it again. That's early retirement. But we couldn't do what we do if it was just for a fortnight - the travel costs would be prohibitive.
To everybody who has responded, Thank you. I might just tell one or two more tales.
Mollie xxx
Definitely my last post here. It's about insurance. We are brainwashed into thinking we have to have travel insurance. Well, it's true that I only have experience of needing medical treatment in France. So I can't speak for other European countries. By the time we got back to England there was a refund cheque waiting for us - we had to pay upfront!
Last week, I got this letter expalining what we had been charged and how much we had already got back.
It cost about the same as a prescription here and was much less effort than making a claim on an insurance policy. Also, the E111 is free. An insurance policy has to be paid for and the insurance company will impose an excess. - probably you will have to meet the first £50 or so yourself.
I've deleted anything the Mods might worry about.
I would hate to influence anybody into taking or not taking insurance. This is just my experience.
I don't think I'll be posting in this thread again. Our next trip is, provisionally, planned for January. But we have to back in England for late April/early May so we might delay it until May. We'll see.
I hope there has been things here that mighty be helpful.
Mollie
Last week, I got this letter expalining what we had been charged and how much we had already got back.
It cost about the same as a prescription here and was much less effort than making a claim on an insurance policy. Also, the E111 is free. An insurance policy has to be paid for and the insurance company will impose an excess. - probably you will have to meet the first £50 or so yourself.
I've deleted anything the Mods might worry about.
I would hate to influence anybody into taking or not taking insurance. This is just my experience.
I don't think I'll be posting in this thread again. Our next trip is, provisionally, planned for January. But we have to back in England for late April/early May so we might delay it until May. We'll see.
I hope there has been things here that mighty be helpful.
Mollie
Quote by Deviated Prevert
I think I can shed a little light here:
So with your permission:-
G-protein mutations have not been described in corticotophic systems. In view of the potential effects of adenylyl cyclase dysregulaton on POMC gene transcription, and the potential effects of gip on cell functions 32 corticotrophic adenomas for gsp and gip gene mutations using polymerase chain reaction followed by site-directed oligo nucleioteid hybridhdriization.
I hope this clears ups this matter once and for all.
Mollie
Not really. Please expand.
That's some serious gibberish there. It looks like it's been lifted from an abstract or a molecular biology textbook, though one would have thought that both of those sources would be able to spell nucleotide.
I really want to share this with you. That stuff above is taken from another thread but my response to it isn't really approporiate to that thread because people are taking it seriously and I couldn't.
So I;ll put it in here with my traveller's tales. Apologies to anybody bored to death with my ramblings.
I copied the gibberish from my step-daughter. A paper she once wrote. I truly don't know if I copied it exactly. I just put it on my knee and with slightly glazed over eyes just typed it. She's a Molecular Biologist and I think she's a genius.
When I first met her I was nervous. Here was a young woman with the title Doctor and I was a Dinner Lady. Also I was a new woman in her father's life. So I was nervous, yes? But I had no need - she has never been anything other than affectionate towards me.
I sat on the sofa. The hot-shot sat in the chair nobody uses but him and the PhD sat on her knees at her father's side. "Well", he said, "tell us what you are up to". And she started off - "Well, it's like this ...." I didn't understand a word and Tom's eyes started to glaze over but he had the sense to look at her now and again and nod encouragienlgy
After a while she stopped and I realised she was waiting for a response. The eyes unglazed and something approaching intelligence appeared in them and he repeated her last few words. I can hear them now. He said "half a cell".
She was triumphant. "Yes. And you can't have a half a cell. So if there's a cell lin there it must be a clone" And off she went again. And my poor man's eyes glazed over again. When it was over, the eyes unglazed and he said "Well, I think that is wonderful".
His daughter got off her knees and said, "You know Dad, there's not many people pick it up as quick as you did. ShallI I make a pot of tea?" And off she went to make a pot of tea.
I looked at Tom; I was fascinated. He had obviously understood no more than I had done.
He looked back at me and smiled his little smug smile that I should find annoying but actually find endearing and he winked at me.
Fathers and Daughters.
Mollie
