I always look forward to a trip to France, I’ve been making regular visits here now since 08/09, thanks to Alain Fabre.
Plymouth - Roscoff. I do love to travel by sea, I never fail to get a little excited, even anxious (in a good way), as I drive onto the ferry, wondering what this journey holds in store, hoping I’ll play to packed adoring audiences and sell shedloads of my new CD - here’s hoping!
Being a Kent boy, originally, I do miss leaving from the white cliffs of Dover, blue birds singing… and all that. I’ll have to make do with the orange spots of street lit Plymouth disappearing into the foggy night, as ‘Amorique’ sets sail for Roscoff.
It’s a huge, monster of a ship with 10 - 11 decks, maybe more! It’s rammed to capacity with families on Easter breaks and coach loads of French teenage school kids. I’m thankful that I took the initiative and booked myself a cabin for the 8 hour crossing.
So, I decide to escape the melee of people making their way to the restaurants and bars and head for the plain but peaceful refuge of my cabin. An accented voice informs me over the tannoy that cabin numbers **** to **** aren’t yet available, which includes mine. Even so, I walk the 4 flights of stairs in hope that it’ll all be sorted by the time I get there, only to be met with half a dozen anvil faced passengers waiting their accommodation. We all shake our heads as if watching a sped up tennis game - I even throw in a ‘tut’!
FINALLY! After waiting an eternity of less than 5 mins, I dump my bag and decide to throw myself right back into the fray and head for the bar.
I order a pint of Guinness and manage to find a solitary seat, it’s absolutely heaving. I feel homesick already, I appear to be the only person on the entire ship sitting on their own. It’s always hard leaving my girls to go away on a trip, it’s made even worse watching all these happy, smiling faces at the start of their holiday. Poor me, poor me, pour me another drink!