105. TGA/TGE (2/6)

 We are heading North. That is not so much of a surprise. We often head North. And we drive straight into a huge tail-back. Miles after miles of lorries, with a few cars dotted here and there. 

'That's a good start!' I say, thinking - too late - that I am not being positive enough. 'Have faith, woman!' is what my inner voice is shouting.

My husband makes some kind of noise. I hear that. I know what it says; I have been hearing this noise for years. It says:

'Please do not interrupt, I am concentrating, I am driving, I have to make fast important decisions on the spot after assessing the situation we are now faced with'.

So I just stare out of the window enjoying scenery: drenched fields and grey skies. The combined swish sounds of the tyres on the wet tarmac and the struggling wipers are making me drowsy. Not for long; the car swerves to the side of the gigantic coach (tourists? They cannot be tourists, can they?) in front of us and heads out, passing lorry after lorry and car after car but also so many policemen ... 

'Are you sure about this lane? Shouldn't we stay behind the lorries?'

'Yes, I'm sure.' He says. 'One lane for lorries, one lane for cars. It is just that the other cars do not know it.'

'Oh ... What about the police?'

'They're doing their job.'

Seconds later we are in the tunnel loading bay. 'Yyaayyy' as my kids say - or rather - write.

We go through customs and through tickets and still there are plenty of policemen everywhere.

One of them finally stops us.

'Vous arrivez d'où?'

We give the name of our little town.

'Et que faisiez-vous là-bas?'

My husband is puzzled by such a question and mumbles (again) something but the policeman is not so practiced as I am at mumbly-language. He simply detects an Englishman and starts to speak English.

He hasn't even uttered three words that the teacher I am jumps in and says:

'Nous habitons là!' I say quickly. I want to add: 'Please do not murder Shakespeare's language so'. 

'Aaaah!' The man sounds incredibly surprised (but why?) and the woman next to him also as she says:

'Ben alors, il faut déménager.' I am left wondering about the meaning of this until we get to an other bunch of police staff. They want to check the door handles and the steering wheel with a tool that looks like my daughter's hair-straightener.

They then give us a wipe - similar to the ones you get when you order sea-food - and order us to clean the wheel. Then we are allowed to drive off. I am relieved as I was beginning to imagine us being dragged into a room somewhere with human shaped robots covered in white boiler suits threatening to stick huge cotton buds, similar to the barbecue-size matchsticks, up our nostrils. 

The next is customs and they are are nice and human and they smile at us. I relax. We are told to go to the loo and told there are no more loos in the tunnel. Now I understand why there are so many huge placards about loos everywhere ...  Obediently we go to the loo in a once buzzing with life and now deserted hall. So pleased to see a shop open we buy a paper and a magazine for double the price we would pay if we waited an hour or so ...

'That's a good move!' But this time I am not saying it. My inner voice is shouting louder: 'Have faith, woman!'