As predicted, there was a certain amount of precipitation during our camping adventure. Not enough to cause us to flee to the nearest hotel, but just enough to remind us that we were camping.
The other reminder that we were camping came every night when I attempted to lie on an air mattress. This was a cheap and cheerful model which we were using to make up the full complement for our tent, but could just as easily been employed as a fairground ride.
Getting on the mattress was rather like trying to climb on an irate dolphin in a paddling pool full of lard. But the real fun came when I tried to turn over in the night. Plunging my fists into the mattress in order to shift my weight would result in my backside being thrown up in the air. As soon as this happened, I would lose my balance, causing me to land awkwardly and bounce off sideways. Once I had regained my dignity, the whole process would start again.
This worked well as a distraction from the pain in my legs which wakes me up most nights, but which was made worse by the cobbled streets of Chartres and the bumpy ground of the campsite.
Otherwise it was the usual litany of excess that France seems to subject me to. Lots of wine, cheese, and meat products topped and tailed with pastries and what must surely be the best bread in the world.
In fact, I didn't even manage to do much in the way of holiday reading, the calorific overload and the prospect of the effort involved in winding up the wind up lamp reducing me to idle thoughts, such as:
Why do so many people now lift the hose up and shake it after filling their car with fuel, when they have just used the trigger on the nozzle to turn the flow on and off?
and:
In dry cleaners, are those machines just behind the counter just pretend to give the whole place a cleaning vibe? There's never anything going around in them, and they look like a pimped up version of the machines in the launderette.
and, of course:
What's that crawling around outside? Should I try and get up to investigate, or will the airbed fire me out of the tent at high velocity, causing me to crush some kind of local endangered species?
So now we're back, and it's time to put the brain back into gear. For those that didn't see it, my weekly column for The Times finished this week with a look back and forwards.
It was great to have the opportunity to reflect on the fantastic stories, comments and support that I have received over the last six months, and I would like to offer my thanks to all of those who got in touch.
So now I'm getting ready to speak at a Symposium on Integration in Sport up in Nottingham tomorrow, of which more in due course...
The other reminder that we were camping came every night when I attempted to lie on an air mattress. This was a cheap and cheerful model which we were using to make up the full complement for our tent, but could just as easily been employed as a fairground ride.
Getting on the mattress was rather like trying to climb on an irate dolphin in a paddling pool full of lard. But the real fun came when I tried to turn over in the night. Plunging my fists into the mattress in order to shift my weight would result in my backside being thrown up in the air. As soon as this happened, I would lose my balance, causing me to land awkwardly and bounce off sideways. Once I had regained my dignity, the whole process would start again.
This worked well as a distraction from the pain in my legs which wakes me up most nights, but which was made worse by the cobbled streets of Chartres and the bumpy ground of the campsite.
Otherwise it was the usual litany of excess that France seems to subject me to. Lots of wine, cheese, and meat products topped and tailed with pastries and what must surely be the best bread in the world.
In fact, I didn't even manage to do much in the way of holiday reading, the calorific overload and the prospect of the effort involved in winding up the wind up lamp reducing me to idle thoughts, such as:
Why do so many people now lift the hose up and shake it after filling their car with fuel, when they have just used the trigger on the nozzle to turn the flow on and off?
and:
In dry cleaners, are those machines just behind the counter just pretend to give the whole place a cleaning vibe? There's never anything going around in them, and they look like a pimped up version of the machines in the launderette.
and, of course:
What's that crawling around outside? Should I try and get up to investigate, or will the airbed fire me out of the tent at high velocity, causing me to crush some kind of local endangered species?
So now we're back, and it's time to put the brain back into gear. For those that didn't see it, my weekly column for The Times finished this week with a look back and forwards.
It was great to have the opportunity to reflect on the fantastic stories, comments and support that I have received over the last six months, and I would like to offer my thanks to all of those who got in touch.
So now I'm getting ready to speak at a Symposium on Integration in Sport up in Nottingham tomorrow, of which more in due course...
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