Mishaps of travel

Perhaps it is becoming older, or just the mishaps of travel, but we have barely begun our journey and already I have detonated a plug adaptor and left my only tube of toothpaste in an hotel. We have lost sunglasses and found them again and have even mislaid an autoroute’s toll ticket and rediscovered that, too. It was hiding deeply under a front passenger seat. How it got there remains a mystery.

At this rate, by the time we return to Blighty, there will be nothing left. We will stand starkers at UK immigration, swearing blind we are nationals but with nothing to prove it. I doubt the authorities would believe us. The border forces are clearly taking illegal immigration seriously, as on the outskirts of Calais we passed a uniformed lady officer complete with ferocious hound, patrolling open land near high fencing. Somehow, I suspect we would be left to rot.

This morning was no better when I thought to try some of the hotel’s moisturising cream I had found in the bathroom - various tubes of freebie were lying beside the basin. Some mysterious hand had formed a patch of flaky skin on a small portion of my leg. Moisturiser, I thought, was called for. The problem? As I applied the moisturiser, I realised it was frothing. It was not moisturiser at all. Forget the label - I was rubbing in a form of soapy gel. It was perhaps my eyes, or the bathroom’s early half-darkness, but within moments I was frothing, lathering, and cursing and had thrown the tube in the bin.

Breakfast was a classic - under there somewhere is a boiled egg

The hotel’s breakfast was divine, as we sat in a small dining area that overlooked a green and lush central courtyard, which carried a huge, towering hydrangea. The meal was more than a meal, but an experience - peaceful, well balanced, and the sort of food that makes you feel immortal. In an instant I had forgiven the hotel its frothing moisturiser. Before long we were on our way, tummies filled, and energies restored.

The journey south was reasonably painless, helped by a portion of chocolate Jubilee cake that I munched at the wheel. Today is the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee - 70 years is no mean feat and the first time for the United Kingdom - but I will wager Her Majesty has no idea that much of her chocolate Jubilee cake ended up on my lap. Melted chocolate and crumbs on a once pristine driver’s seat do not make for a happy combination, nor for the rear end of my trousers.

The countryside changed today. Tunnels appeared and mountains soared as we approached the Alpine town of Chamonix-Mont-Blanc. Happily, the number of wind turbines and pylons reduced. It escapes me how anyone thought such things could do anything other than destroy a once beautiful French landscape.

What makes the French think that piles of wind turbines are anything but ugly?

There was a time one could almost see forever over wide expanses of French field. Today it is different. Wind turbines by the thousand and pylons by the zillion disrupt what was once a perfect view. During the Second World War, the Special Operations Executive (SOE) spent much time blowing up pylons. Now there’s a thought for nearly 80 years later.

It rained today, and the wind picked up as it buffeted us from side to side. We drew into the town of Chamonix-Mont-Blanc glad that we had arrived but disappointed that the hot, sunny weather had vanished. The place has clearly struggled during the pandemic as there are several stalwart shops that have now closed, and the avenues carry fewer people than I recall. Restaurants open late, some not at all, and a few hotels are now opening for only part of the year. Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, a place I know well, or thought I did, still needs to recover.

Alpine mountains are appearing as well as an angry sky

I took a tumble today, while shopping for a new adaptor. I found a new one, so chalk that as a success, but at the expense of a gashed elbow. The shop has a metal moving walkway, my mind was somewhere different, and so backside over frontside I went. I think it is a plot dreamed up by the shop, as I may have found a new adaptor, but I also had to buy antiseptic, sticking plasters, and first-aid paraphernalia to patch up my wounds. Unsurprisingly perhaps, the shop’s medical supplies were almost beside electrics. I sense what happened to me has happened to others and the shop seems wise to a business opportunity.

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Stayed at:

Hotel Mont-Blanc

62 Allée du Majestic

74400 Chamonix Mont Blanc

Tel: +33(0)450530564

Web: https://www.hotelmontblancchamonix.com/en/

Email: info@hmbchamonix.com

Dinner at:

Le Sérac, 148 Rue du Dr Paccard, 74400 Chamonix Mont Blanc

Tel: +33(0)450558867

Web: www.leserac.fr