That’s it.
Holiday over.
No thanks to that fucker Roger though.
If you look at a map of France and try to plot a route from Anger to Caen, there are two obvious routes. The East route is via the motorway which is very fast and very bloody boring. To the West there is an alternate route using the Route Nationales, which are really motorways in all but name. Now which route do you think Roger chose?
Wrong.
He chose neither.
For some reason which I cannot fathom he decided to compromise and bring us on a route between the two.
I presume this was his warped sense of humour but in fact it backfired on him as we had a very pleasant trip meandering along back roads and passing through very beautiful villages. We stopped off in one of the towns for a very nice cuppa coffee [or three], and eventually arrived in Caen.
I thought that would be the end of it.
I was wrong.
Without thinking I let Roger do the navigation after we arrived in Ireland. Fucking hell, but he did it again. I have no idea what got into him, but before long we were driving down roads that had grass growing down the middle. Other roads obviously hadn’t been repaired in the last fifty years. I constantly had visions of us arriving at a farm gate with no further progress. He did eventually bring us back to the N11 somewhere around Gorey, after showing us some parts of Ireland I never knew existed.
We arrived in the end, but I’m still not quite sure how.
I’m going to have to have severe words with Roger before the next trip.
If there is a next trip.
Holiday over.
No thanks to that fucker Roger though.
If you look at a map of France and try to plot a route from Anger to Caen, there are two obvious routes. The East route is via the motorway which is very fast and very bloody boring. To the West there is an alternate route using the Route Nationales, which are really motorways in all but name. Now which route do you think Roger chose?
Wrong.
He chose neither.
For some reason which I cannot fathom he decided to compromise and bring us on a route between the two.
I presume this was his warped sense of humour but in fact it backfired on him as we had a very pleasant trip meandering along back roads and passing through very beautiful villages. We stopped off in one of the towns for a very nice cuppa coffee [or three], and eventually arrived in Caen.
I thought that would be the end of it.
I was wrong.
Without thinking I let Roger do the navigation after we arrived in Ireland. Fucking hell, but he did it again. I have no idea what got into him, but before long we were driving down roads that had grass growing down the middle. Other roads obviously hadn’t been repaired in the last fifty years. I constantly had visions of us arriving at a farm gate with no further progress. He did eventually bring us back to the N11 somewhere around Gorey, after showing us some parts of Ireland I never knew existed.
We arrived in the end, but I’m still not quite sure how.
I’m going to have to have severe words with Roger before the next trip.
If there is a next trip.
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