The more I hear from Hen, and I’m not trying to claim there has been a torrent of news, the more I’m inclined to buy a Winnebago and head off on my own tour of Europe one of these days. Sounds such fun, albeit, not a journey for the faint of heart,
For instance, I learnt, some weeks after the event, that when she arrived on her second night of the trip in Nantes, Mowgli developed an awful screeching noise and brown liquid was pouring from underneath the engine. I would have freaked. Hen feared an ignominious early return to Newmarket and I think it’s fair to say she was a wee bit rattled, but, with the help of some incredibly friendly locals, a temporary repair was effected and then a nearby garage replaced, overnight, a pipe and sorted the problem for the grand sum of 40 euros. You wouldn’t get that kind of service in Suffolk I can tell you. Oh Brexit maddens me!
Anyway, off she then went to a reggae concert in Bagnol sur Cezes, and, apart, from having to spend a couple of nights in a motorway carpark on the way there, things have gone relatively smoothly. Indeed she has recently met two young guys, who remind her of Bob apparently and are showing her how to sneak into campsites and shower for free. Useful life skills. Funnily enough Bob himself has just returned from a camping trip to Cornwall. High on his wish-for list had been to catch a sea-bass or failing that a mackerel. Sad to say over the course of a whole week he snagged a sand eel and caught one pollock which was barbequed, but “tasteless”. Pity that.
Whatever. Back to that “faint of heart” theme. An indication that something was up came when I noticed on my Find My Phone app that in place of “Hen’s” phone icon, located, as far as I could see on the satellite image, in a small dusty looking car park next to the Gard river, was one entitled “LEO”. When eventually I managed to get hold of her in person she explained that she had discovered, given her patchy French, she was unable to introduce herself as “Hen” other than to translate it simply as “Poule” at which point the person she had met would invariably give her a bemused or, worse, sympathetic look and the conversation would peter out. No, she decided, up with this she could not put, and anyway, even if she was feeling nervous, she certainly wasn’t chicken. She needed a name, however, with altogether bolder connotations and which would make her feel proud and sure of herself. The solution when it came to her was simple. Born in August she had always felt an infinity with her Zodiac sign. Frank, forthright, positive and energetic. So “LEO” she is, on her travels at least, though she seems fairly intent that this nomenclature might stick. It may well do, but in the immediate term, for that added sense of security, it seems she is also intent shortly to head over to Spain to acquire a Galgos. I’ll leave you to investigate that yourself. I think it’s madness. Not least I don’t know how she and a Galgos will fit into Mowgli, but more on that later no doubt
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